Chapter Twenty-Five: The Expected Reason

On stage, a man of about fifty, the head of the investigation team, nodded to the crowd. He appeared somewhat like a sage from beyond the world, carefree and unrestrained. To put it kindly, he was nonchalant; to put it less kindly... Clearing his throat, he coughed twice, testing the equipment, which seemed to be working just fine. “I am Liu Pingjie, appointed from above as the leader of this investigation group. After several days of analysis, our team has reached a conclusion: the cause of this accident lies in the manufacturing process of the engine, not in its design.”

He had barely finished speaking before a palpable sense of relief swept through the audience. Voices of exclamation filled the air:

“Oh, I knew it—there couldn’t possibly be so many design flaws.”

“Exactly, as long as it’s not our problem, it’s fine,” someone whispered to their neighbor.

Seeing the meeting descending into disorder, the host felt his authority challenged, his face darkened as he intervened to restore discipline.

“Everyone, quiet down. No discussions. If you have questions, raise them later. Listen to the experts first.”

With the host’s intervention, the hall instantly fell silent.

“I’ll begin by recounting the accident process: the crash during the factory test flight was due to the engine. Here’s what happened: the first-stage high-pressure compressor blade broke, rupturing the casing. The fragments then shattered the subsequent disk, ultimately destroying the entire engine and damaging the tail section.”

Indeed, the accident unfolded exactly as Yang Hui had previously analyzed. Listening to this, Yang Hui felt deeply moved—it was truly a chain reaction, where a single flaw could bring ruin. The aviation industry brooks no negligence; even the smallest issue can have grave consequences.

“Next, let me explain the cause of the blade fracture. Frankly, it’s almost laughable.” He hadn’t even stated the reason yet, but his tone was already laced with sarcasm, hinting at a tale worth hearing.

At this point, a few members from Liyang Factory blushed, though it was barely noticeable and quickly concealed.

Without pausing, he continued: “The facts are plain. The assembly line mixed up the parts. During segmented assembly, components from different groups were mistakenly installed together. As a result, the disk ended up with a blade whose precision didn’t match the group. The blade’s actual size exceeded the upper limit for its group, so when the engine operated at high speed, the oversized blade and casing rubbed violently, causing the root of the blade to reach its fatigue strength prematurely and eventually fracture.”

Note: The segmented assembly method involves grouping parts of similar sizes and precision. Smaller disk components are paired with smaller casings to achieve higher overall precision.

At this revelation, the entire auditorium was dead silent—the cause was so absurd, a classic case of carelessness. Discussion soon erupted, and even the host was too stunned to interject, still processing the shock.

The investigation team had expected such a reaction. The leader stopped speaking, giving the crowd time to digest the news—it was, after all, quite astonishing. The Liyang Factory personnel hung their heads so low they might have buried themselves under the table, embarrassed beyond words. With such a mishap, how could they face their colleagues from the Second Institute?

After a chorus of sighs, the audience settled down. The host, finally regaining composure, coughed awkwardly.

“Er, everyone, please quiet down. Let’s continue—maintain order in the hall.” Clearly, the host had been caught off guard and now felt awkward about enforcing discipline too sternly.

Meanwhile, Yang Hui’s mind was racing: He had considered countless possibilities, but never imagined something so elementary—a mistake so basic it was almost unbelievable. One slip, a regret lasting forever. If the assembler had been more attentive, perhaps the error wouldn’t have occurred; if the inspector had checked more carefully, the issue might have been caught; if the parts manager had better distinguished each group of components, the accident could have been avoided.

Such negligence was the root cause. It showed that worker discipline needed reinforcement. Yet none of these were fundamental problems. In mass production, the segmented assembly method itself was unreasonable; with higher manufacturing precision, the issue wouldn’t have arisen. Direct interchangeability would suffice. Foreign manufacturers, with their superior precision, wouldn’t encounter such errors.

His thoughts drifted to the “Project 82”—the Sino-American collaboration to upgrade the J-8 interceptor. When China flew two prototype planes across the ocean, their parts turned out to be non-interchangeable. If a plane broke down, they had to wait for special parts from home. The embarrassment was unforgettable—the thought of the Americans’ expressions was simply...

“This accident is a profound lesson, demanding strict attention to detail and zero tolerance for negligence. Liyang Factory has already severely disciplined those responsible, is reinforcing work standards, and the entire plant is undergoing a thorough review to prevent a recurrence.” At this point, the factory representative declared their resolve before the assembled crowd, a display of determination.

Unexpectedly, his speech drew scattered applause from the audience, suggesting that many still had faith in Liyang. Yet for the factory members themselves, the words must have sounded harsh, even grating.

“All right, that’s the full story of the accident. What I want to say is that Liyang’s lesson is universal. I hope all factories and institutes will learn from this, enforce strict discipline, and examine themselves with an attitude of responsibility to the Party, the nation, and the people. Never be careless.” With the analysis concluded, there was nothing more for the Second Institute. The review meeting was kept brief.

Afterwards, the investigation group packed up and departed; their work was far from over, with much still ahead. Naturally, the institute’s secretary was tasked with seeing them off.

Finally, it was the director’s turn to speak. Director Bai’s mood was visibly positive—after all, this accident wasn’t his institute’s responsibility, so a hint of relief was understandable. Smiling, he addressed the crowd sternly: “This time, it wasn’t our fault, but there’s no reason to celebrate. Since the issue arose at the base, higher-ups will only see it as a problem with our 0011 base. Therefore, to learn from this and prevent future incidents, the institute will conduct a comprehensive review. Each department must reassess their responsible designs.”

Indeed, after such a major event, even with little direct responsibility, the institute couldn’t avoid a bout of busy self-examination—a fine tradition, essential for assigning work to the departments below. Having something to do is always preferable to idleness.

Seeing the lackluster response below, Director Bai felt resigned—such was life without funding, and he could only press on: “All departments must take this seriously. Next time, evaluation for advanced departments will heavily weigh this review.”

With that, he waved to signal he was done, and the host, seeing nothing left to add from the others, declared the meeting adjourned. The crowd rose in scattered groups and began to leave. Yang Hui followed two colleagues from his department toward the exit.

“That was a pointless meeting—learned nothing. I thought the experts would offer some brilliant analysis, but it turned out to be such a trivial cause,” Wu Dabao complained as he descended the stairs, clearly dissatisfied, thinking his time would have been better spent drafting designs.

Yang Hui, new to the team, kept his thoughts to himself, but Wu Hongjun, from the same department, didn’t hesitate to continue: “That’s exactly it. No expert insights, just more work—now we have to reassess our designs.”

His bitter expression resonated with many nearby. “Exactly. Since the WP7 model was finalized, how many times have we reviewed it? I could redraw the whole thing by memory now.”

A chorus of agreement followed: “Yes, indeed…yes…”

Clearly, the outlook was grim. Every department was short on funds, and getting support for profitable projects was urgent. With this in mind, Yang Hui turned and hurried after Director Bai, who had just left…