Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Starting with the Korean War, returning home to take charge

The office window faces west.

The afternoon sun streamed through the glass, turning the room into a steamer. Lin Jianguo lay slumped over the table, his "Fluid Mechanics" book lying open in front of him, its edges curled up like a fan. He scribbled a few lines on the paper with his pencil, paused, crossed it out, then scribbled a few more. Sweat dripped from his forehead, soaking into the paper.

"wrong."

Sun Xiaomei sat opposite him, a mountain of calculation papers piled up in front of her. Some slipped off the table and landed on the floor, leaving footprints. She looked up, her glasses reflecting the light.

"What's wrong?"

Lin Jianguo pushed the paper over.

"The flow velocity at the combustion chamber inlet we calculated is twice as high as that in the book."

Sun Xiaomei took it and looked at it for a while.

"The one in the book is an ideal state. Ours involves friction and heat exchange; can it be the same?"

"But it can't be twice as bad."

"You calculate it once, then I'll calculate it once, and we'll see who's right."

The two buried themselves in their calculations. The scratching of pencils across the paper, mixed with the chirping of cicadas outside the window, was incredibly irritating. After calculating for the third time, Lin Jianguo slammed his pen on the table.

"It's still not right."

Sun Xiaomei looked up and rubbed her eyes.

"My data is different from yours."

She placed the two pieces of paper together and compared them. Lin Jianguo leaned closer, their heads almost touching, staring at the densely packed numbers.

Someone walked past the window; the footsteps seemed to come closer and then fade away.

Lin Jianguo suddenly said.

"Team Leader Ma asked, 'Can this thing really fly?'"

Sun Xiaomei was stunned for a moment.

"If the dean says it's possible, then it's possible."

"Is what the dean says always right?"

Sun Xiaomei did not answer.

Lin Jianguo took off his glasses and wiped them with the corner of his shirt. The lenses were covered in sweat, and they were still foggy after wiping.

"Forget it, let's start over."

The pilot production workshop was as hot as a boiler room.

Ma Yuejin squatted in front of the small combustion chamber, staring at the weld seam. It had been welded three times, and cracked three times. The first time, the weld seam cracked halfway through the burnt-out process, and high-pressure gas sprayed out, knocking over the nearby instruments. The second time, it lasted a little longer, but the cooling system couldn't keep up; the entire combustion chamber glowed red-hot, and it finally cracked again. The third time, they changed the materials, but the formula was wrong; the resulting product was as brittle as a biscuit, crumbling at the slightest tap.

He threw the piece of scrap metal on the ground and stood up.

Lin Jianguo came in through the door, clutching the calculation report in his hand.

"Team Leader Ma, the data has been adjusted again."

Ma Yuejin took it, glanced at it, and then handed it back to him.

"If the materials are wrong, adjusting the data won't help."

Lin Jianguo remained silent.

Sun Xiaomei, who was squatting next to her, looked up.

"The book says the Soviets used nickel-based alloys, which we don't have."

Ma Yuejin looked at her.

"The book is the book, and we are ourselves."

He took off his gloves and threw them on the ground.

"Where is the dean?"

Lin Jianguo said.

"I've been in the office all day."

Ma Yuejin walked out.

As I walked to the door, I turned back and glanced at the pile of scrap metal.

He Yuzhu sat in his office, the windows were closed, and the room was as stuffy as a steamer.

He brought up the system interface and flipped to the Materials Technology section. High-temperature alloys, high-temperature alloys, high-temperature alloys… He flipped through three pages and stopped.

[Nickel-based high-temperature alloy formulation (for rocket combustion chambers)]

[Includes: component ratios, smelting process, heat treatment procedures, and performance testing standards]

[Redeemable Points: 1,000,000]

He looked at the words and tapped his fingers twice on the table.

Ten million.

That's enough to replace the rocket crew's equipment for six months.

He remembered Ma Yuejin squatting in front of that pile of scrap metal, Lin Jianguo's bloodshot eyes, and Sun Xiaomei's back as she buried herself in calculating data.

He clicked "redeem".

[Redeem successful. Points consumed: 1,000,000]

Current total points: 155,330,000 - 1,000,000 = 154,330,000 points

The documents emerged from the system space, a thick stack spread out on the table. The words printed on the cover reflected the light in the dim glow.

He stood up, took the documents, and walked out.

When I arrived at the entrance of the trial production workshop, Ma Yuejin was squatting there, clutching a piece of scrap iron in his hand.

He Yuzhu placed the stack of documents in front of him.

"Try this."

Ma Yuejin took it and turned to the first page. As he looked at it, his eyes lit up.

"Dean, where did this come from?"

He Yuzhu did not answer.

"Is it possible?"

Ma Yuejin nodded.

"able."

He stood up and shouted into the workshop.

"Lin Jianguo! Sun Xiaomei! Come and see!"

Three months later, the first version of the rocket engine design drawings covered the long table.

Ma Yuejin stood in front of the table, staring at the drawing, his hands trembling slightly. On the drawing, the combustion chamber, turbopump, nozzle, and cooling channels were densely packed together with lines and numbers.

Lin Jianguo stood beside him, his glasses reflecting light. He was still clutching the tattered copy of "Fluid Mechanics" in his hand, with dozens of slips of paper tucked between the pages.

Sun Xiaomei stood behind, holding a cup of tea that had been brewed since morning. The tea had long since gone cold, and she hadn't drunk it.

Ma Yuejin raised his head and looked at He Yuzhu.

"Dean, this thing... can it really fly?"

He Yuzhu didn't say anything.

He recalled that year at Changjin Lake, lying in the snow waiting for the bugle call to charge. It was minus forty degrees Celsius, his hands and feet were numb with cold, and he had only one thought in his mind: if he could make it back alive, what would he do afterward?

Now I know.

He lowered his head and looked at the picture.

"able."

Sun Xiaomei's teacup wobbled, spilling tea onto the floor.

She ignored it and just stared at the picture.

Lin Jianguo took off his glasses and wiped them with the corner of his shirt. After wiping them, he put them back on and stared at every number on the chart.

Ma Yuejin was looking for something on the blueprints, his finger tracing from the combustion chamber to the nozzle and back again.

"Here, and here, we need to count again."

Lin Jianguo leaned closer.

"I'll do it."

In the pilot production workshop, the first engine began to be assembled.

The workers piled the parts together, tightened screws, welded seams, and tested for air tightness. Ma Yuejin stood nearby, his eyes fixed on the work, and whenever he saw an uneven weld, he would go over and touch it. Lin Jianguo squatted in a corner, staring blankly at a blueprint. Sun Xiaomei ran in and out, fetching tools and handing over materials.

They were busy until dark when someone turned on the lights.

The light shone on the unfinished engine, its metal surface gleaming coldly.

Lin Jianguo stood up and stretched his stiff neck.

"If the computing speed could be ten times faster, we could save one month's work in three months."

Sun Xiaomei said from the side.

"Dream on, where would you find ten times the computer?"

Lin Jianguo didn't say anything and continued looking at the blueprints.

Sun Xiaomei ran in. She ran so fast that she tripped at the door and had to hold onto the door frame to steady herself.

"Team Leader Lin! Team Leader Lin!"

Lin Jianguo raised his head.

"What's wrong?"

Sun Xiaomei was panting, and her words were incoherent.

"The computer group...it's done over there!"

Lin Jianguo stood up. As he stood, he knocked over a teacup on the table, spilling water onto the drawings, which then splattered widely. He didn't pay attention to it, his eyes fixed on Sun Xiaomei.

"How many?"

Sun Xiaomei leaned against the door frame, her eyes reddening.

"ten times."

Lin Jianguo stood there, stunned.

He looked at the water-soaked blueprint, at the blurred numbers on it, and at Ma Yuejin's figure running towards him from the other end of the workshop.

Suddenly I laughed.