Chapter Five: Thesis Defense (Part One)

"Hey, why has Yang Hui submitted another paper? He’s so prolific!"

"Yang Hui’s papers are really exaggerated. He should be worrying about affairs in Zhongnanhai, because our field truly hasn’t taught him much," grumbled a committee member whose hair was streaked with grey.

A middle-aged man interjected, "Ah, Elder Lin, you shouldn’t say that. The paper doesn’t criticize our discipline, objectively speaking. I actually found his phrase, ‘If the thrust is strong enough, even a brick can fly,’ quite intriguing. Besides, he does mention that advanced aerodynamics are a key factor in excellent aircraft. We ought to recognize that."

"This paper is rather incisive; he discusses points he finds unreasonable and offers his own suggestions. I think making such proposals at this level is already quite rare, especially considering he’s still young," Director Wang stepped forward to defend Yang Hui. Regardless, it was necessary now to speak well of him.

If Yang Hui heard this, who knows how he’d react—a man with the soul of a fifty-year-old being called ‘young’ might laugh himself to tears.

"Incisive writing, rare for the young—are these grounds for his nonsense? It’s pure gibberish! How can you call this student’s work acceptable?" Elder Lin nearly jumped from his seat, his beard quivering with anger, leaving everyone torn between laughter and sympathy.

"Elder Lin, please calm down. Don’t stoop to the level of the young. The committee will treat this paper with utmost caution," someone consoled him.

"Regardless, this paper’s thinking is quite radical; it discusses systemic issues throughout, with barely any theoretical content. It reeks of grandstanding—is this the work of a science student? Utterly improper! A mess! I even doubt if he wrote yesterday’s paper himself." With that, Elder Lin stormed out of the office, the door slamming loudly behind him.

The remaining committee members exchanged helpless glances. This paper was proving to be quite the conundrum.

"How should we handle this? Should we allow him to participate in the defense?" The middle-aged man sought the group’s opinion.

"It is indeed tough to deal with. Perhaps we should let him attend the defense."

"Agreed. That’s sensible. We can listen to his explanations directly and ask questions on the spot," Director Wang said, gathering the papers.

"From the perspective of a theorist, his paper does have some valid points, though it doesn’t fit domestic conditions," Director Wang finally offered her assessment.

"That’s a fair evaluation. We’ll see at the defense."

"To enhance our professionalism, I’ve invited Elder Wu from the aero-engine department to join us. Elder Wu is truly a technical expert," Director Wang told the others.

"That’s not a bad idea, actually. Having a specialist present is good."

In this era, teachers were genuinely attentive and conscientious toward students. In later times, such matters would likely be dismissed outright—being the authority, who would need advice from others?

"Another troublemaker; he’s achieved his aim, but I wonder how he’ll handle the aftermath," the middle-aged teacher shook his head and continued reviewing other papers.

"Yang Hui, my paper was accepted with high praise."

His reputation as a workhorse in later generations was well earned. If Yang Wei’s paper had been subpar, that would truly have been a problem; his chosen research direction alone was formidable, so there was no concern at all.

"I’m ready. This afternoon will be a fierce battle. I will stand by my position," Yang Hui said as he walked, his eyes filled with unwavering conviction.

At one o’clock in the afternoon, Elder Wu arrived at the auditorium and calmly found a seat alone. He had come to hear the defense of Yang Hui, a student who had attended several of his lectures.

"Oh, Elder Wu is here. Good. He’s a professional; let’s see what Yang Hui has to say," muttered Elder Lin, clearly unimpressed.

"Alright, I’m going up."

Yang Hui strode confidently onto the stage. His gaze swept across the committee, pausing momentarily on an elderly man in his sixties, surprising him. He hadn’t expected Elder Wu to attend. But who was Elder Wu?

Wu Daguan, born in 1916 and originally named Wu Weisheng, was one of the principal founders of China’s aviation industry and aircraft engine design and development. He dedicated his life to researching new aircraft engine design methods and procedures suited to China’s needs, oversaw the development of numerous engine models, and trained generations of specialists. His contributions to the advancement of China’s aviation engine design and the broader aviation industry were immense. He was hailed as the "Father of China’s Aircraft Engines."

Yang Hui hadn’t expected this! Yet, thinking back, Elder Wu was overseeing the localization of the Spey 202 engine at Factory 0430 during this period. His presence was logical, especially since the Spey project was nearly canceled.

Not daring to waste time, Yang Hui composed himself and began. "Good afternoon, everyone. I am Yang Hui from the Aerodynamics Department. My paper is titled ‘The Status and Future of China’s Aviation Industry’." The title alone was explosive. Addressing the current situation was one thing, but a university student discussing the future was intriguing.

China’s aviation industry had inherited Soviet practices. Due to historical factors, until the WP-14 engine, most products were based on Soviet technology transfers, with some modifications, but always on Soviet foundations. By the 1980s, these products had become somewhat outdated.

"My first topic is the greatest current challenge facing our aviation industry."

"Most domestic aviation products come from Soviet assistance. The Soviets only gave us finished technical documentation, permitting us to manufacture directly from those documents. They never mentioned independent development, clearly withholding vital information."

At this point, Yang Hui grew animated. The so-called "big brother" never truly intended to impart the essence of industrialization to China. The Russians were always wary of teaching the apprentice too well, lest they starve the master.

"So, our aircraft still haven’t surpassed what the Soviets left us; we can only make minor modifications. Why? Because we lack comprehensive data and documentation from the development process. Any change causes issues, since we don’t understand why the aircraft was designed a certain way—especially with engines, even minor modifications require immense effort. Independent development is extremely difficult. Therefore, I believe we must conduct deep research on promising current projects, so we understand not only the results but also the reasoning."

Some committee members nodded, others shook their heads—Yang Hui couldn’t decipher their reactions. Since no one questioned him, he prepared to continue.

"You make it sound easy. Can you suggest some measures? What you describe is factual, but what we need now are practical methods," the middle-aged teacher finally spoke up as Yang Hui was about to continue.

"Certainly, I’ll share my perspective—two points. First, conduct thorough test flights of existing aircraft, gradually modify them, advancing step by step to continuously improve performance. Second, concentrate top-tier technology and personnel, provide ample funding, and carry out research on a new aircraft project from start to finish, building an excellent team and establishing a development path suited to our national conditions."

He outlined two lessons drawn from countless experiences in later generations. There was nothing wrong with this approach—development demanded it.

"Your first point is already being implemented domestically. As for the second, ultimately, it’s a matter of funding!" the middle-aged teacher sighed, seeming to agree with Yang Hui’s views but feeling somewhat powerless.

"Indeed, funding has always been a core challenge. That’s why I suggest focusing resources on a single major project," Yang Hui explained. Later, the Tenth Project would follow this model, though its first years were fraught with difficulties, nearly canceled several times. Only intervention from the highest authorities ensured its completion, but it took eighteen years, and by the time the aircraft was ready, newer models elsewhere had created a generation gap.

"I will continue with my paper. Besides lack of foundation and insufficient funds, the dispersion of research strength and poor communication between research and production are also limiting factors for our aviation industry. China’s aero-engine sector alone has six factories, leading to redundant products and scattered research efforts. This is a persistent problem for the engine industry, though the airframe industry is somewhat better. Therefore, I believe we should consolidate the engine factories, retaining two or three, and concentrate our efforts. As for the disconnect between factories and research institutes, we should promote integration."

This was a crucial issue—the engine sector remained fragmented even into the new century, with six factories and even trends toward expansion, such as the creation of a naval gas turbine factory.

"Yang Hui, your thinking is dangerous!" Elder Lin finally spoke, pounding the table in anger. "What do you mean by scattered research strength? That’s for preparing for war! If everything is centralized, a Soviet nuclear strike would wipe it all out. Dispersion is for risk mitigation. You, young man, are just talking nonsense!"

"That was true in the past. Now, we have nuclear weapons too, capable of reaching the Soviet Union. They dare not use theirs, and the likelihood of war is nearly nonexistent. Nuclear powers going to war means world destruction," Yang Hui retorted, countering a once-popular domestic argument. By 1985, such reasoning would lose favor.

"So what do you mean by integrating factories and institutes? Are you advocating a return to special wartime measures? Your thinking is truly dangerous."