Chapter Seventeen: Grounded

News quickly spread that the plane had encountered trouble and made an emergency landing. In the workshop, everyone was so surprised they put down their work and stared at the messenger. Even Yang Hui paused, turning back to look at the man, hoping for more information. But disappointment settled in; the messenger knew only what he’d just reported and said nothing further, glancing at Chief Engineer Yu.

Recognizing the seriousness of the situation, Chief Engineer Yu promptly called several technicians and hurried outside. “You haven’t left yet?” he asked, noticing Yang Hui.

“I just heard about the plane’s problem. I’m from the Second Institute—can I come along?” Yang Hui asked urgently, his concern evident after hearing the report.

Yang Yue interjected, “Chief Engineer Yu, he really is from the Second Institute.”

“Alright, come along, keep up,” Yu replied, and without another word, strode quickly toward the truck towing the plane.

They climbed aboard and sped toward the runway. Cars were rare in the factory area, so they kept the horn blaring, and once on the runway, the truck accelerated as if it were chasing a plane rather than driving. The speed was dizzying, rivaling the car racers of later generations.

With a screech of brakes, everyone inside was thrown off balance. Yang Hui, the first to jump down, saw a J-7 fighter resting by the runway. The nose had overshot, plunging into the soft turf, and one wheel was half-buried in the earth. The landing gear, facing huge resistance, had snapped under the force; the tire exploded. The air intake was jammed deep into the soil; the cockpit canopy appeared properly opened, suggesting the test pilot was unharmed.

Indeed, the pilot was safe. Among the crowd nearby, the one in a flight suit was surely the pilot, though he looked dejected, sitting on the runway edge, clutching his helmet ten meters from the plane.

Yang Hui’s composure faltered as he took in the rear of the aircraft. The fire truck had extinguished the blaze, but the rear fuselage still smoldered, sparks occasionally flickering from shorted wires. Any flammable material could reignite the fire, though the absence of fuel meant it was unlikely.

The engine bay’s skin was torn open, revealing the battered engine inside. The left horizontal stabilizer had vanished, its whereabouts unknown. The trailing edge flaps on the main wing bore marks of impact, their deformation suggesting the missing stabilizer had grazed them. Still, control was possible—otherwise, a successful emergency landing would have been impossible.

Everyone disembarked, staring at the wreckage. Wreckage was the word; repairing this aircraft would be a monumental task, likely not worth the effort. The only option was to salvage parts.

Many were seeing such devastation for the first time, rendered speechless. Yang Hui had witnessed countless flight accidents in his previous life at the test flight center. In sixty-one years since the founding of China’s test pilot squadron, twenty-seven had sacrificed their lives. Add to that the successful emergency landings, and the number of incidents was staggering. Though the sight was jarring, Yang Hui managed to keep his thoughts clear.

“This test pilot was brave. He brought the plane back safely—most important of all,” Yang Hui remarked, his voice calm and emotionless.

Chief Engineer Yu continued, “The engine failed, one stabilizer was lost, and the pilot managed to control the aircraft enough to return—that’s a miracle.” He looked toward the pilot sitting at the runway’s edge.

As chief engineer and pilot, a subtle connection existed between them. When Yu gazed at the pilot, the pilot looked back. Their eyes met, and both understood.

“Can a plane in this condition really return?” Yang Yue, witnessing such a scene for the first time, was stunned, her thoughts muddled.

Yang Hui walked over to comfort her, gently saying, “The plane is here, it flew back—so yes, it could return.”

Yang Yue felt a sense of reassurance seeing Yang Hui, though she realized her question had been foolish. Embarrassed, she pressed forward.

Others, seeing her move, snapped back to attention and followed toward the crowd.

The pilot removed his gloves, placed them in his helmet, set them on the grass by the runway, and stood to approach Chief Engineer Yu.

“Chief Engineer Yu, I brought the plane back for you.”

A single sentence spoke volumes. Yu, a man past fifty, reached out and embraced the pilot, patting his back.

When they parted, Yu broke the silence, looking firmly at the pilot. “Rest assured, I’ll find out what went wrong. Not a single plane will fly until the issue is resolved.”

With that, Chief Engineer Wu turned toward the aircraft.

“Chief Engineer Yu, the plane is still dangerous—it could explode. Please wait a bit longer,” a site supervisor urged, holding Yu back.

“What’s there to wait for? We must report to the higher-ups immediately—this is a major issue.” Yu insisted, shaking off the supervisor’s hand and heading toward the sparking wreckage, undeterred. Seeing the veteran engineer about to approach, others quickly pulled him back; it was still too hazardous.

Yang Hui had already reached the plane. After surveying it, he walked silently to the toolbox brought by the truck, picked it up, and headed toward the aircraft.

Yu watched Yang Hui in surprise. A Second Institute staff member so eager—he’s a promising candidate.

Setting the toolbox down, Yang Hui deftly found the maintenance hatch and opened it. An acrid smell of burnt wires rushed out, assaulting his nose.

Yang Hui frowned. He’d expected the mid-fuselage to be intact, but it had burned; the fire after landing must have spread there.

Yu, still uneasy, could only ask from a distance, “How is it inside?”

“It’s bad. The fire after landing spread to the mid-fuselage. The wiring is melted into a mess. I’ll remove the power supply first.” Shaking his head, he reached inside and began clearing the charred wiring.

The other institute members began their tasks—dismantling, photographing, handing over tools.

At last, Yang Hui disconnected the final wire from the power supply and removed it.

“All done. No further danger; the aircraft can be handled now.” He patted his blackened hands in relief. But seeing the crowd around the plane, he realized his words were unnecessary and moved toward the tail.

Peering through the breach at the engine, he saw the casing torn open, with the entire high-pressure compressor blades destroyed. It seemed the blades had punctured the casing, severed the fuel line, and caused a fuel leak that triggered the explosion.

This was a major failure. Compressor blade detachment was extremely dangerous and not uncommon; finding the cause could take a long time. When the F-15 was still the “queen of the hangar,” it often suffered engine blade failures that punctured the casing, forcing Pratt & Whitney to reinforce the engine cowling for safety. That problem lasted for years.

On site, only Yang Hui understood engines well. Yu approached him, seeing Yang Hui staring at the engine, and asked, “Is this engine a serious problem?”

Yang Hui didn’t shy away; he spoke his mind, welcoming the chance for discussion.

“To put it plainly, this engine issue is clearly the key to the aircraft’s failure.”

Yu, a veteran of aviation, could see it was the engine. He sighed, “Yes, I think so too. The compressor blades seem to be the culprit.”

Yang Hui, emboldened, said, “Chief Engineer Yu, the cause behind this engine failure is unknown—it could be defective blade manufacturing or a design flaw. I suggest reporting to the higher-ups and grounding all J-7 fighters equipped with Turbojet 7YB engines.”

Yu nodded. Yang Hui lacked authority to call for grounding, but Yu, as chief engineer, could. He turned to the site director, evidently preparing to call the Air Force for grounding.

Just then, a cargo truck arrived from the far side of the airfield. Yang Hui recognized Captain Zhang’s vehicle—he had come as well.

With a screech, Captain Zhang jumped out and approached the plane. He seemed surprised to see Yang Hui but quickly remembered Yang Hui was from the Second Institute; it would have been odd if he hadn’t come to such a major incident.

Captain Zhang placed his hands on the wing, staring at the engine wreckage, understanding precisely where the problem lay.

“Comrade Yang Hui, can you identify the issue? I don’t know much—I’m just in charge of transport. The engine has already been refused for acceptance. We’ll wait for the problem to be identified.”

This was routine; such a major incident meant nobody dared accept the engine. If this batch was problematic, accepting it would transfer responsibility to the factory. Even if repairs were possible, who would trust it? Refusing acceptance now avoided future trouble.

A flatbed and crane arrived as dusk descended. The group loaded the wreckage onto trucks, transporting it to a spacious workshop to await further handling…