Chapter 124: Give Them Plane Tickets

Professor Zhu was a cultured man, refined enough to step aside and not argue with these so-called “generals.” Yet these “generals” were by no means easy opponents; seasoned by years of storms and trials, they were well-versed in such situations.

One of the “lieutenants” began to ask, “Brother Jianguo, what do you think we should do? That old fellow is about to leave.”

“Yes, yes, Brother Jianguo, how should we handle this? Everyone is waiting for you to make the call.”

Originally, Zhou Jianguo intended to pause, take stock, and see how things unfolded. But hearing the lieutenants now turn to him for guidance, he realized everyone wanted him to take the lead—they were giving him face. If he gave up now, wouldn’t that mean losing his standing? Judging by their expressions, his colleagues still supported him.

Reviving his spirits, General Zhou Jianguo pressed on, carrying everyone’s expectations, and launched another salvo.

“Professor Zhu, you’re leaving now, so you’re agreeing with my suggestion, right? I, Zhou Jianguo, am not one to be unreasonable. So let’s stick to the plan—tackle one project at a time.”

Sticking to the plan, Professor Zhu personally had no objection. He knew the need for aerodynamics was urgent, and he understood the bigger picture. He truly wished to avoid any further exchange with such people, but ultimately, he spoke—rarely, and with deliberation.

Without turning his head, Professor Zhu tossed out a light remark: “Step by step as planned, I have no objection, but you’d better first ask your team leader how much time your project actually has.”

The palpable disdain in Professor Zhu’s tone enraged Zhou Jianguo completely—it was too blatant.

“Heh, what’s so high and mighty about you, old bookworm? Even your words are abrasive. Back in the day, we’d have dragged you out and put you through struggle sessions hundreds of times. Don’t think just because you’re in favor now you can look down on us and not even bother to make eye contact.”

The term “old bookworm” carried more than the usual sting; it not only angered Professor Zhu, but also roused his students’ fury.

Before Professor Zhu could respond, one student stepped forward. “What do you mean by that? It’s not the fifties or sixties anymore. Listening to you, it sounds like you did plenty of misdeeds back then. Today, we’ll have a word about it.”

Yang Hui observed the student, bristling and ready for a confrontation. It was time to intervene, even by force if necessary.

“Zhou Jianguo, what do you mean by that? Let me tell you, you’re lucky to have such a good job now. Don’t forget yourself—you haven’t settled your old accounts. Apologize immediately.”

---

Yang Hui’s words were resolute, but at his age, they held little authority in the eyes of Zhou Jianguo and his bold “generals.” To them, it was a classic case of someone waving a feather as if it were a command baton.

Zhou Jianguo sneered, shaking his head with a rebellious air. “Who do you think you are? Really think you’re someone? Every one of us is a big name around the base. If we had to answer to you, what face would we have left among the crowd at 0011? Right, everyone?”

With the “general” leading the charge in mockery, the “lieutenants” naturally followed suit, firing off in unison with Zhou Jianguo.

“Exactly! Acting like that feather is a command baton. Don’t overestimate yourself—just stay out of the way.”

“It’s cooler in the wind tunnel. Go rest there, and leave things here to us. Young man, learn carefully. We’ve got years of experience.”

Ah, hearing these words, Yang Hui realized the battle prowess of these former “generals.” To have thrived in those chaotic times, they were certainly not ordinary men. Their “artistry” in speech was impressive—Yang Hui felt as if he’d traveled two thousand years into the future.

Such words were masterful. The popular saying from later years came to Yang Hui now: “It’s not that today’s elders have turned bad, it’s that those who were bad back then have grown old.”

And in the future, that saying would ring true—the “lieutenants” would indeed be old, and their logic sound. But now, in the 1980s, they were in their prime—Zhou Jianguo and his cohorts were the archetypes.

With these thoughts, Yang Hui decided not to spare them any more courtesy. It was best to clear them out sooner rather than later; if left unchecked, who knew what trouble would follow.

“Very well, carry on. Let’s see how long you can keep this up.”

He said no more. It was time for Chief Engineer Yu to hand them some supersonic plane tickets—kick them out, and the team would finally have peace. A research group needs scientific talent, not powerful loudmouths.

Coming up beside Professor Zhu, who had been watching coldly, Yang Hui saw the professor was thoroughly exasperated by Zhou Jianguo and the “generals”—his beard practically bristled with rage. It was easy to guess that Professor Zhu had once been forced to sleep in cow sheds himself.

“Professor Zhu, please calm down. Let’s step aside; I need to find a phone. Chief Engineer Yu must handle this. He already warned me to clear out the troublemakers here, and now...”

No more words were needed; Professor Zhu nodded in understanding and led Yang Hui to a phone.

“Here you go—the phone’s right here. It was installed many years ago.”

Caressing the old telephone, Yang Hui carefully picked up the receiver, got through, and had the operator connect him to Chief Engineer Yu. In these days, unless it was a hotel open to outsiders, you’d never find a phone in every room.

---

“Hello, this is Yu Ximing.”

Upon hearing Chief Engineer Yu’s voice, Yang Hui succinctly explained the situation: “This is Yang Hui. The troublemakers have surfaced; now it’s up to you to handle them.”

Chief Engineer Yu, on the other end, hadn’t expected things to develop so quickly. He felt both pleased and saddened—these fellows were truly troublesome. He’d hoped they would keep their heads down, but a “general” would always be a “general.” The phrase “a dog can’t stop eating filth” fit perfectly.

“Good, I’ll come deal with these people right away. I’ve been wanting to clean house for a long time.”

With that, Chief Engineer Yu hung up and, without even returning to his office, headed straight for Beihang.

Professor Zhu, who had overheard the entire phone conversation, was surprised. “You all planned this, didn’t you? These men were already on your radar?”

Yang Hui didn’t disagree; it was the truth.

“Yes, before coming, Chief Engineer Yu intended to sort out the aerodynamics group. Most of the base’s aero team came through special channels in those days—unqualified university students, masters of causing trouble but little else. Chief Engineer Yu’s patience has run out.”

Professor Zhu was well aware of the peculiarities of education in that era. Appointing pig-keepers and gate-guards as university lecturers was nothing; the origins of the students were even more interesting. The most active agitators could simply write their own recommendation letters to attend university, regardless of their academic foundation. Entrance exams? Such “inequality” had no place then.

After hearing Yang Hui’s explanation, Professor Zhu suddenly realized something. “So your aerodynamics group is just a group that exists for its own sake, isn’t it? For future projects, if you kick these people out, it’s fine, but how did you maintain the group’s basic capabilities before?”

He’d fallen into the trap—Professor Zhu had asked the very question Yang Hui was waiting for.

“Ah, there was really no other way. You know, at 0011, we always built planes using blueprints provided by our brother units—no need to worry about aerodynamic design. As for future needs for the base’s aero group, that depends on whether you, Professor Zhu, are willing to lend us a hand.”