Chapter Fourteen: Arrival at the Base

From Shudu to Pingba, the two of them sat drowsily on the train for more than a day before finally arriving.

“Yueyue, we’ve finally made it. It’s been a real ordeal these past few days,” said Yang Hui, who, accustomed to air travel in his previous life, found the trains of this era nearly unbearable.

“Yes, it was quite long. This is the longest train ride I’ve ever taken.” It seemed Yang Yue had also suffered through the endless journey.

As the train pulled into the station, they followed the crowd out. Glancing back at the station, Yang Hui felt a pang of nostalgia for airplanes. But in this era, domestically produced Chinese airliners couldn’t fly this far, and as for foreign planes—would Yang Hui dare to board one?

“Yueyue, we have to work hard. If we can build large passenger planes in the future, we’ll never have to suffer like this again. That’s our job.” Gritting his teeth, Yang Hui hefted their luggage and beckoned Yang Yue to follow him out of the station.

Pingba was a new place for Yang Hui—he hadn’t been here even in his past life. This city, perched on the Yunnan-Guizhou Plateau, was both ancient and young. Its history was long, but true industrialization had only begun in the past decade or so.

“Yang Hui, the Second Institute is here, right? Why don’t we head over now? It’s almost dark,” suggested Yang Yue, who was supposed to report to Anshun, some seventy or eighty kilometers away—no way she’d make it today.

“Alright, let’s go to the Second Institute first. Since we’re new here and don’t know anyone, it’s better to get settled at the base. After I report in, I’ll go with you to Anshun tomorrow.”

After some thought, Yang Hui decided he couldn’t let Yang Yue go report by herself—he’d worry too much.

Their first time in this unfamiliar city, it took some time, but finally they found the Second Institute. As a base for the Third Front construction, the institute had its own history and spirit.

“You two, what are you doing here? This is a military base—strictly confidential. You can’t come in.”

The gatekeeper was no kindly uncle, but an armed member of the institute’s security department, who blocked them without any courtesy.

“Hello, comrade. I’m a university graduate here to report for duty. Here are my documents, please have a look.” With that, Yang Hui quickly handed over his papers.

After verifying the documents, the security officer said, “Hello, Comrade Yang Hui, welcome to our Second Institute. Since you’re here to report, register first and you may enter.” He handed the documents back.

“And this comrade, is she here to report as well?” He shifted his gaze to Yang Yue.

“Oh, this is my girlfriend. She’s also here to report, but she’s assigned to the First Institute in Anshun. She’s coming with me today because the guesthouse at the base is safer.”

Yang Yue retrieved her own documents from her bag and handed them over. Sure enough, after verification and registration, both were allowed in. After all, they were from the same system—it made sense to be accommodating.

Inside, they asked a friendly researcher for directions and headed for the office area. The new institute had been built just over a decade ago, and lacked the towering old trees of older institutes that shaded the roads and blocked the sunlight. Instead, it exuded a sense of youthful energy—everything was developing rapidly. In recent years, some military enterprises and institutes had already begun to show signs of decline.

They reached the three-story office building, which looked much like all other office buildings of the time. Yang Hui climbed to the second floor and headed for the personnel department.

Knocking on the door, he heard a strong, northern-accented middle-aged man call, “Come in.” Clearly, he was someone who had come to support the Third Front years ago.

Yang Hui and Yang Yue entered, and the middle-aged man sized them up.

“You look unfamiliar—here to report?” He immediately guessed their purpose.

“Yes, I’m here to report. Here are my documents.” Yang Hui handed over his papers and stood aside.

“Have a seat. No need to be formal. My surname is Tang—I’m from the north too, been here more than ten years now.”

Hearing the pure northern accent, Director Tang was clearly pleased. Over the years, even the northern accents at the Second Institute had begun to sound local.

He glanced over the documents and noticed there was only one set. Looking up at Yang Yue, he asked, “Can I see this comrade’s documents as well?” Seeing them arrive together, he naturally assumed she was reporting to the Second Institute too.

“Oh, I’m not assigned here—I just came with him. I’ll be working at the First Institute in Anshun,” Yang Yue quickly explained.

“Oh, so you’re together! Are you a couple?” The personnel director’s sudden turn to gossip left them both bemused.

“Yes, she’s my girlfriend. She’s also graduating this year. I was planning to take her over after I finish reporting in, since it’s not safe for her to go alone,” Yang Hui explained.

“I see,” replied the director, returning to the documents. This new graduate was interesting—an aerodynamics major assigned to the engine institute, which was a bit odd. Had he offended some big shot? Director Tang wondered.

Still, he continued reviewing the documents. When he saw the second letter—a recommendation from Elder Wu—he was even more puzzled. Clearly, this wasn’t someone who had made enemies. Was there some higher-level personnel struggle at play? Unable to resist, Director Tang asked, “Your name is Yang Hui, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Yang Hui replied.

“According to your file, you studied aerodynamics. Why were you assigned here? Normally, you’d be going to the aircraft institute with your girlfriend.”

Yang Hui had explained this many times before. “I studied both aerodynamics and took aero-engine courses, so I’m competent in both fields.” Patiently, he repeated what he’d said countless times.

Director Tang nodded—now he understood, and Elder Wu’s recommendation made sense. Still, assigning Yang Hui a position was a bit of a puzzle. His fingers tapped the desk rhythmically—clearly, it was a challenge.

“Here’s what we’ll do. Wait a couple of days—we’ll assign you a position then. You still need to take your girlfriend to the First Institute anyway.” He decided to consult the director tomorrow about this transfer student.

To reassure Yang Hui, he added, “Once your post is assigned, we’ll see how much of Elder Wu’s skills you’ve picked up.”

“As for accommodation, I’ll write you a note. You can stay at the guesthouse for a couple of days until we get you a dorm room. We’ve had a lot of new students arrive lately—housing is tight.”

With a few swift strokes, he wrote out a note and handed it over.

“Oh, and if you have time, you can go to Liyang Factory. There’s a batch of engines being shipped to Anshun soon—you could go with them. It’s much better than squeezing onto a passenger bus, and not any slower.”

Yang Yue glanced at Yang Hui—taking a freight car? Not a bad idea, at least it would take them directly to the base without having to search around. Anshun was a city, after all.

“Haha, don’t worry. Once you’ve tried it, you’ll see our base’s dedicated freight cars are no worse than passenger trains—and they go straight to the aircraft factory.” Seeing their skepticism, Director Tang patiently explained.

“Thank you, Director Tang. If there’s nothing else, we’ll take our leave,” said Yang Hui. Picking up their luggage, the two headed for the guesthouse.

“The personnel director seems like a good person—he even arranged a train for us. That’ll make traveling between the two places much easier,” Yang Yue remarked, recalling his help.

Handing out a “good person” label so easily—Yang Yue was truly naïve.

“He’s not bad. But we may not see each other often. Between work and waiting for the right train, I doubt we’ll have many chances,” Yang Hui replied, his rational pessimism dashing Yang Yue’s hopeful thoughts.

The institute was large, but the guesthouse wasn’t far away. Soon, they arrived. Yang Hui handed over the note and was quickly assigned a room. But when it was Yang Yue’s turn, there was a problem.

The woman in charge of the guesthouse eyed Yang Yue, then Yang Hui. “Young lady, we’re a bit crowded right now. A lot of new arrivals have been put up here, and the rooms are just about gone.”

She looked at Yang Hui as she spoke, making him uncomfortable.

“Honestly, you two don’t look like siblings or just colleagues or classmates. Why not squeeze in together? I’ve just given him the last double room.” In places like this, the local government really didn’t interfere with the base guesthouses—nor could they. There were never inspections for ‘illegal cohabitation,’ and the guesthouse manager was utterly unbothered.

Both Yang Hui and Yang Yue stared wide-eyed—what did this woman mean? Even though Yang Hui had lived many years, he still blushed.

“Don’t worry, there won’t be any police checks in the base’s guesthouse. The base isn’t under local jurisdiction,” the woman assured them, as if to say, “You can trust me.” Yang Hui’s worldview was shaken—since when did guesthouse managers sound like old hands at more dubious establishments?

“How about you take your things up first, and I’ll see if anyone checks out this afternoon,” she said, then turned and walked away, leaving them standing there.

After a long silence, Yang Hui ventured, “Why don’t we just go put our things in the room, then ask about the train?” But he’d already picked up both their bags and was heading for the room.