Chapter Fifty-Two: Permission to Remain on the Sixth Floor

“If what you seek is beauty, then I must board your pirate ship and mix it up with you.”

When she heard Yang Hui declare that he would pull her onto his ship, so they could work together for the revival of the aviation industry, Yang Yue was, of course, willing. Yet, Yang Yue knew all too well how difficult Yang Hui’s goal was to achieve. The more one understood the field, the clearer the gap became. There were few left with Yang Hui’s fighting spirit; most had resigned themselves to doing their best and leaving the rest to fate.

“If you don’t board my ship, then which ship will you board? Only my luxurious liner is worthy of your exquisite ticket!” Yang Hui, upon hearing Yang Yue mention boarding the ship, suddenly recalled a skit from the future and blurted out the joke.

Yang Hui’s words had a certain charm, but Yang Yue could not bring herself to be happy. He had touched a sore spot.

“Yang Hui, you say you want me to be the best aircraft designer, and I want that too, but it’s all so difficult. You know that better than I do, right? When I was in the capital, I secretly read your thesis.”

So that was it—she had secretly read his thesis, and the pessimism within had intimidated her. Yang Hui suddenly felt his thesis still packed a punch. The ancient scholars must have been the same; they wielded their pens like swords—perhaps this was the best example.

“What are you afraid of? You still have me. I’ve seen all these problems, so I’ll find a way. There will be a time when these issues are resolved.”

He spoke bravely, but at this moment, Yang Hui was still insignificant and powerless to effect real change.

At this point, Yang Hui’s thoughts drifted to Elder Wu, who should have been transferred back to the capital by now. Perhaps Elder Wu could find a way—after all, to be called “the Father of the Republic’s Aero Engines” he must have some influence.

Indeed, as Yang Hui guessed, far away in the capital, Elder Wu was organizing his manuscripts. Setting aside his reading glasses, Elder Wu looked at the two stacks of papers on his desk—one thin, one thick. After some thought, he placed the thinner manuscript into a file folder stamped with a red seal and a red star, then called for his secretary.

“Xiao Wang, deliver this to the Premier’s office. Tell them I wrote it.”

Once the secretary had left to carry out his instructions, Elder Wu picked up the much thicker stack of papers and headed out for the publishing house.

“Hello, I’m Wu Daguan. I’d like to see your director.” Arriving at the Capital Aerospace University Press, Elder Wu directly requested to see the head of the publishing house.

Soon, people inside hurried out to greet him.

“Ah, Elder Wu, what brings you here? If you needed anything, a phone call would have sufficed.”

For someone of Elder Wu’s stature, the director dared not offend him in the slightest and quickly came to greet him.

“No need. I can still walk perfectly well. I’m here this time to deliver a manuscript. I’ve already informed your university president, and the book number has been approved. This is the finalized manuscript—just typeset and prepare it for printing.”

Indeed, the thick stack of papers was the manuscript for Elder Wu’s book—a work inspired by Yang Hui’s thesis. Drawing on his own knowledge of engine development and the arguments in Yang Hui’s paper, Elder Wu had managed to write the book, “The Status and Preliminary Research of Aero Engines,” in just one month.

This book did not exist in the original timeline, but it was clear from Elder Wu’s surviving papers that his thinking was closely aligned with the content of this book. He simply had never systematized his thoughts into a book before. Now, with a clear idea, he had finally written it.

“Understood, Elder Wu. We’ll start typesetting and printing the proof copies immediately. Once they’re ready, we’ll send them to you for review.” The director hastily took the thick manuscript, promising to proceed as quickly as possible.

...

“Comrade Wu Daguan, please come with us. The Premier wishes to see you.” On the afternoon of the third day after the document was delivered, a summons from Nanhai arrived at Elder Wu’s office in the capital.

He stood, gathered his things, closed his book, and boarded the car from Nanhai, heading to the government compound.

“Come, Comrade Daguan, please sit. I’ve read the proposal you submitted. Now I’d like to discuss it in detail.” The Premier, sitting on a cloth sofa and speaking in his Sichuan dialect, invited Elder Wu to sit.

“Yes, Premier. I’ve had more free time these past few months, so I’ve been thinking a lot. I felt it necessary to report some of my thoughts to the central government.”

“That’s important. I think your proposal makes a lot of sense. While I may not understand the technical details, I grasp the general points.” As he spoke, the Premier opened the file folder Elder Wu had submitted and pulled out a page.

“For example, here—you analyze the profitability of the aviation industry and later discuss vigorously developing aviation product trade. I agree with this most.”

The Premier was always attentive when it came to economics and trade.

Hearing the Premier focus on his economic proposals, Elder Wu felt both frustrated and helpless. His main hope was that his proposal would catch the leaders’ attention and, ideally, secure more funding for the projects he mentioned. But it seemed that would be wishful thinking.

Still, regardless of his frustration, he dared not show it. He could only smile and say, “Yes, Premier. Vigorously developing aviation product trade is absolutely beneficial to economic development. But our products currently lack competitiveness, and our technology is lagging behind. That’s why we need the state’s support—at least in key areas.”

Today, he was here to seek funding and support. Without money, nothing could be accomplished.

The Premier saw through his intentions immediately. The proposal was a bid for funding. The reason for inviting Wu Daguan for a discussion was mainly because the Premier found his economic ideas for the aviation industry interesting.

So the Premier brought the conversation back to the point: “Comrade Daguan, I know what you’re after. But the country has no money. I’ve called you here because I see you have some ideas for the aviation industry’s economy. My thought is for you to take charge of foreign trade for the aviation industry. Now that you’ve been transferred to the capital, you can take responsibility for this. There’s a shortage of economic talent in the country, especially in aviation. At this time of national transformation, we need experienced veterans like you to shoulder the burden.”

This was completely unexpected. Wu Daguan hadn’t meant this at all—he simply wanted to secure some funding, not end up responsible for economic matters at the center.

“Premier, I...”

But before he could finish, the Premier interrupted, laying out his final offer.

“Comrade Daguan, I know you want funding for technology, but let me tell you: the country has no money and can’t provide it. In the end, you’ll have to rely on yourselves. I’ll make you a promise: any foreign trade profits your aviation system earns on your own, you can keep sixty percent. You can use it for the technology you need.”

Upon hearing this, Elder Wu hesitated. Sixty percent of foreign trade revenue retained within the system was unprecedented. Previously, all income after costs was turned over to the state, and every year they had to go begging for allocations. If they could keep sixty percent, it would be a windfall.

“Premier, do you mean it? That our aviation system can keep sixty percent of our foreign trade profits?”

“Of course not all. I’m only referring to the business you land yourselves. Business brought in by other departments still belongs to the state.” The Premier was careful to leave no loopholes.

“Then one last question: Will the sixty percent we retain be kept as foreign currency or converted to renminbi?” This was a critical issue, as the aviation system was a major consumer of foreign exchange every year. If they could keep foreign currency, all the better.

Hearing such a bold request, the Premier was taken aback—he hadn’t expected Elder Wu to want all of it in foreign currency.

“That won’t do. It’s impossible to keep it all as foreign currency. At most, two-tenths of the sixty percent can be kept as foreign currency; the rest must be converted to renminbi.” The Premier had originally intended to give none, but recognizing the aviation industry’s substantial need for foreign exchange, he relented—this was his greatest concession.

To be allowed to keep two-tenths as foreign currency, Elder Wu could hardly contain his joy. Were they not in Nanhai, he might have cheered aloud.

“Very well, Premier. I accept the task. You can count on me to do my utmost for economic development and to answer the nation’s call.”

“All right, you may go now.”

Watching Elder Wu leave, the Premier allowed himself a meaningful smile.

In truth, the Premier hoped that the aviation industry could seize this opportunity for transformation. The country’s economy was what it was; the domestic market alone could not support such a vast aviation industry. The only way forward was to look outward, to the world beyond.