Chapter Three: Life Choices

As they left the cafeteria, Tang Changhong, who was a few years older than Yang Hui, remarked with a solemn air, “Xiao Hui, you’ve really talked yourself up in Haikou this time. In the end, it’s all down to your own abilities. Go back and revise your thesis carefully!” Yang Hui’s face immediately darkened at his words.

Suddenly, someone hurried after them from behind. “Yang Hui, you’re impressive academically, I admit. All four of you in your dorm are top-notch. But since I, Zhao Ziqiang, started studying aerodynamics, you and I have never seen eye to eye in our academic pursuits. My thesis will prove what I’m capable of. I hope you don’t let me down—don’t give those other useless guys a reason to laugh at you. I don’t want my rival of four years to end up a nobody. I’ll be waiting for your thesis.” With those words, Zhao Ziqiang strode off quickly, giving Yang Hui no chance to reply.

“Heh, that guy’s still as arrogant as ever, but I must admit he’s got some skills,” Yang Wei commented as he watched Zhao Ziqiang walk away.

“It doesn’t matter. You two have been at odds for so long. Soon you’ll have a real showdown. As long as your thesis is impactful enough and you get into graduate school, you’ll surpass him, and the grudge between you two will be settled,” Liu Changqing, usually the quiet one, unexpectedly spoke up, surprising the others.

“Let’s go back and get to work. I need to rewrite my thesis,” Yang Hui said, leading the three of them back toward their dorm.

“Xiao Hui, your earlier thesis on large aspect ratio wings was quite impressive, but a lot of people are studying that now. It probably won’t cause much of a stir. What’s your plan?” Tang Changhong asked, puzzled.

“I was conflicted about that too,” Yang Hui replied. “You know we study aircraft design, and now I’ve started researching aerodynamics as well. I often attended lectures on aircraft propulsion in the Aero Engine Department, so I actually have two thesis options.” With that, he dropped a bombshell—he had written two theses. The others marveled at his energy.

“One is the one you know about. The other is broader in scope. But I worry it might be too controversial, maybe even ahead of its time. If I publish it, there’ll surely be more criticism than praise,” Yang Hui explained patiently. He was still uncertain whether to go through with it. He wanted his thesis to be significant, but not just for the sake of attention.

“Wow, you quietly wrote two graduation theses? Let’s hear about them. Maybe we can help you decide,” they urged him.

“Well, the other thesis mainly discusses the relationship between aircraft engines and airplanes, as well as some of the problems I see in our country’s aviation industry. The main issue is that my views don’t align with the mainstream in the domestic aviation field, so strictly speaking, it’s not a traditional research paper. But I still want to give it a try,” Yang Hui explained.

“Why worry? The mainstream isn’t always right. If you believe you’re correct, publish it. It’s just a thesis—what’s the worst that could happen? Don’t let it hold you back. Chairman Mao said, ‘The future belongs to the young!’ What’s there to be afraid of?” Yang Wei stood up, dismissively grabbed his own thesis from the cabinet, and sat down to continue writing.

Yang Hui suddenly realized that his life was all about making up for past regrets, and to do so, he had to challenge outdated ways of thinking and obsolete systems. But so what? That was his mission—his unwavering goal.

He made up his mind, a new clarity in his heart. “Dawei, your words are sharp, like a bolt of lightning cutting through endless darkness. They struck right to my soul—enlightening!” He was so moved he even changed the way he addressed Yang Wei, drawing surprised looks from the others.

“Haha, that was invigorating. Maybe I’ll find even more inspiration for my thesis now. But don’t say things like that too often, or I’ll get used to it and it won’t have the same effect,” he added after a moment. “Actually, ‘Dawei’ sounds pretty good. It seems heartfelt, so I’ll accept it. From now on, you can all call me that.” Yang Wei was quite pleased with the new nickname, surprisingly unbothered by it. Tang Changhong and Liu Changqing had no objections and agreed with a nod.

“When do you think our country will be able to launch digital fly-by-wire systems? I’ve been paying close attention to this,” Yang Wei asked.

“My thesis is on this topic. The more I write, the more I feel we should take this technology seriously,” he added after a pause.

This made the others fall silent. They all worked in aerospace and knew its importance. Yang Hui broke the silence. “Fly-by-wire, in essence, only reveals its full potential on aircraft with statically unstable designs. As far as I know, there aren’t any such aircraft in development domestically, so the prospects don’t look great for now. Still, it’s good to get ahead—when the time comes, we’ll be ready. Fly-by-wire is definitely the direction of the future, so Dawei, have faith in your research focus. We’re looking forward to tomorrow!”

After saying so much at once, he felt parched and took a sip of water to moisten his throat.

Though Yang Hui said all this, he was actually not very optimistic about domestic research in this field. Was it important? Absolutely. Starting with third-generation aircraft, nearly all of them used this system (except for the MiG-29). Airbus’s pioneering A300 owed much of its success to fly-by-wire, enabling it to capture a share of the civilian airliner market from the Americans and become one of the world’s two aviation giants. Without fly-by-wire, it’s hard to build a good plane, and embarrassing to claim otherwise. Yet, current conditions in China did not allow for the development of such a system.

Yang Wei pondered for a long time before responding, “You’re right. Domestic aircraft don’t need it now, but just because we don’t need it yet doesn’t mean we won’t in the future. This will definitely become a core technology in aircraft design. I’ve decided I’ll pursue this in graduate school—I’ll make something of it.” With that, he set his resolve.

“Dawei, have you decided to go on to grad school? You’re the best student in our dorm, so you have a good shot. Work hard. I plan to start working right after graduation and gain experience in practice. If necessary, I can always go back for further study later,” Tang Changhong outlined his plans for the future, showing he’d already made up his mind.

Liu Changqing turned to them. “Since we’re talking about the future, I’ll share my plans too. I’m also going straight to work, but I’ll definitely stay in the aviation field. I love it—if I left, I wouldn’t know what else to do!”

“After graduation, you two will go to your assigned jobs. Be sure to work hard and don’t let us or our university down. Xiao Hui and I will go on to grad school, hone our academic and research abilities, and then join the workforce,” Yang Wei summed up.

“I’m not planning to go to grad school either. I’ll start working,” Yang Hui said calmly, dropping a bombshell.

“What? Didn’t you say you wanted to go to grad school many times? We all thought you were set on it—why the sudden change? Did you hit your head jumping in the river?” Tang Changhong stared in disbelief.

Seeing everyone waiting for an explanation, Yang Hui thought back to his previous life, when he had spent three years in graduate school and learned a few things. But this time was different. The knowledge he now possessed far surpassed what was currently available. He no longer needed further academic study—it would be a waste of time, not just for himself, but for the country as well. Everything pointed to him joining the front lines of research and production, solving real-world problems, and participating in practical work.

“There’s nothing surprising about it. I’ve thought it over these past few days. I should go straight to work. For me, further study isn’t necessary. What I need is real-world experience,” Yang Hui explained to the three. As his roommates and future leaders of the nation’s aviation industry, he felt they deserved an explanation.

“Are you sure? Don’t you want to reconsider? You already told your advisor, and everything’s been arranged. Are you really not going?” Yang Wei tried to persuade him one last time.

“No, I’ve made up my mind. Once my thesis is published, you’ll understand. There’s no need to try to change my mind,” Yang Hui replied firmly.

“All right, then. I need to rewrite my thesis. If all goes well, it’ll be big news—I hope it can make a difference,” Yang Hui said quietly, picking up his fountain pen.

“Hey, did you hear? Someone from the Aerodynamics Department tried to jump in the river yesterday—supposedly over a heartbreak. Honestly, how can a college student have such little resilience?” muttered a slightly disreputable-looking guy to his companion.

“You’re spreading rumors. Let me tell you what really happened. Someone from Aerodynamics—Yang Hui—dropped his thesis in the river, and then he jumped in after it. It had nothing to do with romance. We students of the University of Science and Technology wouldn’t lose our heads over love. We devote ourselves to our country. Who has time for infatuation?” the bespectacled student, annoyed by the rumor, corrected him. After all, he knew the truth, and with that knowledge came the right to rebuke the ignorant.

“Oh, really? So that’s what happened. The students in that elite dorm truly are pillars of the nation. We’re nothing compared to them,” the first guy sighed, clearly regretful about his earlier words.

“Well, Yang Hui’s thesis is said to be explosive and highly confidential. I really want to know what it’s about,” the bespectacled one, now transformed into a gossip, chimed in.

“So that’s why he was so anxious about his thesis. I knew it—no one would risk their life over just a paper.”