Chapter Seventy-Three: The Airshow (Part Two)

Earlier, when Yang Yue powered up her control system, it immediately interfered with the nearby model aircraft. Though she realized the issue and quickly shut down the system, in that brief interval, a propeller-driven old lady crashed. Fortunately, it was flying low and slow, so the damage was minor.

The operator of this model was an elderly gentleman. He walked over to the fallen model, examined it, and saw it was nothing serious, then picked up the wounded old lady.

“Hello, beautiful lady. Your ground controller’s output is too strong—it severely disrupts our normal flying. In fact, its power far exceeds the needs of a model aircraft. I suggest you lower it.” The base’s military-grade equipment was designed to outclass ordinary ground control systems, so it was no surprise that it suppressed their signals.

Looking at this elderly man, who spoke awkward Chinese as he offered advice, Yang Yue saw the damage she’d caused to his model and offered an apologetic explanation.

“I’m truly sorry. I overlooked that you were flying as well while I was testing. But for our model's reasons, the power can’t be too low.”

The lady from the Republic refused his suggestion, which displeased the old man. “But this is a public space. You can't hinder everyone else’s flights just for your own.”

Knowing she was at fault, Yang Yue was at a loss for words. At that moment, Yang Hui emerged from the tent, having heard the commotion outside. He saw Yang Yue and the elderly man standing together and went over to investigate. Suddenly, he spotted the damaged American P-40 model beside the old man, and upon closer inspection, realized it sported the Flying Tigers livery. Given the man’s age and his distinct, clumsy Chinese, it was not hard to deduce his former identity.

“Honorable Flying Tiger pilot, as a citizen of the Republic, I thank you.” During World War II, the Flying Tigers were a squadron sent by America, and their pilots were called “aviators.”

The old man was surprised that this young man immediately recognized him, and continued in halting Chinese.

“To fight fascism is the duty of every cowboy with a sense of justice.”

Seeing the old man’s mood had eased, Yang Hui seized the opportunity.

“Yes, please come with me into the tent. Once you see what’s inside, you’ll understand everything.”

The old man had already noticed the unusual tent and was interested; now, being invited in, he gladly obliged.

Yang Hui quietly instructed the three outside, “All right, set up the system, but hold off on testing for now.”

He led the elderly guest into the tent. It was early summer, and inside was noticeably warmer than outside. But the old man, upon seeing the massive model inside, was stunned. Ignoring the heat, he walked over to the aircraft and examined it closely—it was truly a beautiful beast.

After a long while, still smiling, the old man stepped out of the tent and hurried over to the model pilots performing flight demonstrations, murmuring a few words to them and instructing them to land their models. Having lived in Paris for decades, he was highly respected in the French and European model aircraft circles. When he spoke, the others followed without question. With just a few notifications, others caught on and landed their models as well.

Inside the tent, the model was fully tested. Outside, Yang Yue saw the sky had cleared of models and quickly began system calibration.

The elderly man rushed to the event commentator, grabbed the microphone, and spoke excitedly:

“Fellow model aircraft enthusiasts, ladies and gentlemen, we are about to witness a revolutionary model aircraft. Its arrival will sweep all our current models into the dustbin. Let’s wait and see!”

The control system was now ready. Yang Hui and Xie Lianfa sat on wooden crates behind their respective control consoles, preparing for the flight demonstration. For this day, they had trained relentlessly at the base, crashing five or six models in the process. Now was their moment to shine.

Old Wu at the tent relayed the status to Yang Hui and Xie Lianfa.

“Both models have successfully connected to the control system.”

“Engines started.”

“Control surfaces normal, ready for takeoff.”

Upon hearing this, Director Bai and another young man slowly lifted the tent wall facing the runway, instantly revealing a hangar-like opening. As the tent opened, the roar of the jet engines echoed from within.

The Flying Tigers veteran, still at the commentator’s station, was ecstatic. “Quiet, everyone! Listen to this magnificent sound—it’s truly heavenly, heavenly!”

The scene fell silent; not even the usually noisy audience spoke a word.

“Ready for rollout, cleared for takeoff.”

As lead pilot, Yang Hui gently pressed the throttle pedal. The engine’s roar intensified, now best described as a fierce growl. As the model emerged from the mysterious tent, the crowd erupted.

“My God, it has no propellers!” The commentator, suddenly remembering his role, snatched the microphone and spoke with a trembling voice.

“My God, it has no propellers!” This was the very phrase Allied pilots uttered during WWII upon seeing Germany’s first jet fighters, and the last words received by ground radar stations. Now, that phrase echoed once again in the skies over Western Europe.

No one cared what the commentator said; all eyes were fixed on the model. Its silver-gray paint reflected dazzling sunlight, so bright that few could gaze at it for long. As the proud aircraft rolled slowly from the tent, cameras turned in unison, capturing every moment.

Yang Hui gently pushed the control stick forward with his left hand. The wings, which had been at their minimal sweep angle, began to unfold and extend forward. Driven by two engines, the model taxied onto the runway.

The commentator, with his advantageous position, spotted another model emerging from the tent. “Heavens, there’s another—two in total!”

Indeed, right behind Yang Hui’s lead model, Xie Lianfa piloted his own from the tent.

Xie Lianfa’s model was even more striking in appearance, adorned with a vibrant Tiger Squadron livery. The upper fuselage and leading edges of the tail were painted with bold tiger stripes, while the rest was silver-gray. Compared to Yang Hui’s low-visibility scheme, Xie Lianfa’s model delivered a powerful visual impact.

The hobbyists who had previously flown their propeller-driven old ladies now understood why they had been asked to land. Their own obsolete machines were useless in the sky, merely cluttering the airspace. The stars of this airshow were undoubtedly these two giants. A surge of emotion arose from within—envy, jealousy, or perhaps an intense desire to possess these magnificent machines.

As Yang Hui piloted his model, he caught a glimpse of the hobbyists’ expressions—their eyes nearly aflame with envy. He couldn’t help but feel delighted. Ha! You little guys better start saving your pennies. He quietly instructed Xie Lianfa.

“Lianfa, prepare for a twin formation takeoff. Let’s give them a memory they’ll never forget, and show them that the skies of Western Europe belong to us too.”

“Understood, Team Leader Yang. Watch closely.”

The two models taxied to the takeoff position, three meters apart. Both planes spread their wings, ready to soar.

Now, exposed to all eyes, someone finally recognized their type.

“Tornado fighter—the European joint fighter! It’s the Tornado!”

What? A model of our European fighter? This was unprecedented, and another round of fervent photography began—it was livelier than if the real Tornado had arrived.

Seeing the crowd snapping away, they decided to give them a good angle for the takeoff.

“Takeoff.”

With just those two words, the flight demonstration began. Yang Hui floored the throttle and released both brakes. The model shot forward like an arrow, with Xie Lianfa’s model following at the same speed.

Model aircraft require little runway; today, the weather was perfect and the wind just right. After only seventy meters, Yang Hui sensed the model’s eagerness. He gently pulled the control stick with his right hand, and the horizontal stabilizer immediately rotated downward.

“Look, twin formation takeoff! They only needed seventy meters—this is an outstanding fighter. With their guardianship, Europe’s skies will be safer than ever.”

Clearly, the commentator was overly excited, treating the model as if it were a real Tornado fighter. But the passionate audience didn’t find it laughable; watching the two models climb, so lifelike, it felt as if real Tornado fighters were taking off in the distance—so powerful, so majestic.