Chapter Eleven: The Space Administration

Stepping out of the airport, Zhang Mingyang was about to hail a taxi when someone tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

“Hello, are you Mr. Zhang Mingyang?”

A tall, burly man in a black suit, nearly two meters in height, smiled as he spoke.

“And you are…?”

As he spoke, Zhang Mingyang instinctively took a step back.

“Hello, Mr. Zhang. I’m from the Aerospace Bureau’s driver department. I’m here to pick you up.”

“You know me?”

Zhang Mingyang’s face was full of confusion.

The driver took out his phone, showing him a photo of Zhang Mingyang.

“Mr. Zhang, we have your photo.”

Looking at his own image, Zhang Mingyang sighed, “It’s true, in the information age, there’s nowhere to hide!”

After confirming the driver was indeed from the Aerospace Bureau, Zhang Mingyang handed over his luggage and got into the car.

During the ride, Zhang Mingyang sat in the back seat, taking in the sights of the capital.

Tall buildings everywhere—do the people living here never feel oppressed by all this?

He couldn’t help but wonder.

“Mr. Zhang, I’ll take you to the hotel first so you can drop off your luggage, then we’ll go to the bureau.”

Zhang Mingyang nodded in agreement.

The car wound its way through the city for nearly an hour before finally coming to a stop.

Getting out, Zhang Mingyang retrieved his luggage and looked up at the nearly hundred-meter-tall hotel, pursing his lips, “The Aerospace Bureau must be rich—just visiting and they put you up in a seven-star hotel!”

Thinking about money, Zhang Mingyang suddenly remembered something important and hurriedly turned to ask the driver, “Brother, I have a question—will you reimburse the hotel expenses?”

The driver smiled, “Mr. Zhang, the bureau has already paid for your stay. You just need to show your ID at the reception and you can check in.”

“Really?”

Zhang Mingyang was a little skeptical, but went inside anyway.

At the front desk, he presented his ID. The receptionist smiled, quickly tapping away on her computer.

“Mr. Zhang, welcome to the Capital International Hotel. Your room is on the 30th floor, room 3001.”

“And the room card…?”

After retrieving his ID, Zhang Mingyang awkwardly asked, noticing the receptionist hadn’t handed him a key.

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The receptionist smiled, “Mr. Zhang, there’s no need for a room card here. The elevator uses facial recognition and will automatically take you to your floor. At your room, facial recognition will grant you entry.”

“Alright, thank you.”

Having learned the process, Zhang Mingyang walked toward the elevators.

He stood up straight inside, afraid the system might not scan his face properly.

“Twenty-fifth floor,” the elevator chimed.

Stepping out, Zhang Mingyang followed the room numbers along the wall to the right, finally finding room 3001 at the end of the corridor.

Outside the door, he watched as the camera scanned his face.

A soft sound, and a voice: “Welcome, esteemed guest, to the Capital International Hotel.”

The door opened and Zhang Mingyang stepped inside.

“My goodness, it’s a suite!”

Three bedrooms, a spacious living room, an open kitchen, a private bathroom, even a sauna—the total area nearly 120 square meters.

He set down his luggage, preparing to explore the room, but his phone rang—a call from an unfamiliar number.

Who could it be? Zhang Mingyang answered.

“Mr. Zhang, have you arrived at your room?”

“Who is this?”

“I’m the driver downstairs. If you’ve dropped off your luggage, we need to head to the bureau; they’re waiting for you.”

“Alright, I’ll be right down.”

He hung up, took one last look at the room, reluctant to leave, and stepped out.

Outside, the driver had parked and, seeing Zhang Mingyang, quickly opened the rear door for him.

The gesture made Zhang Mingyang uncomfortable; he’d never experienced such treatment before.

“Mr. Zhang, please fasten your seatbelt. We’re ready to depart.”

“Ah, yes.”

Zhang Mingyang followed instructions, buckling up.

With a roar, the car sped toward the Aerospace Bureau.

All the way, Zhang Mingyang admired the capital’s scenery, afraid to miss anything—he didn’t want his trip to be wasted.

Before he knew it, half an hour had passed and the car stopped in front of a blue building.

---

“Mr. Zhang, we’ve arrived. You can go up on your own.”

“Oh, alright.”

After Zhang Mingyang got out, the driver drove away.

Looking at the building ahead, Zhang Mingyang could hardly believe his eyes—was this really the Aerospace Bureau?

Five stories high, peeling paint on the walls, a staircase riddled with potholes—it looked more like a hazardous structure. If not for the sign by the door proclaiming “Aerospace Bureau,” he would have thought he’d come to the wrong place.

Climbing the uneven steps, Zhang Mingyang noticed that those coming and going all wore blue work uniforms, while he was dressed in sporty casual clothes, making him stand out awkwardly.

Inside the lobby, the ceiling was decorated with images of the cosmos, various aircraft and rockets adorned the space. Zhang Mingyang looked around curiously but couldn’t find the elevator.

“Hey, brother,” he called to a staff member, “where’s the elevator?”

The man looked at Zhang Mingyang in confusion, “It’s just five floors—why do you need an elevator? If you want to go up, use the stairs at the front.”

Following the direction pointed out, Zhang Mingyang hurriedly thanked him and went over, but couldn’t help thinking—such a big, wealthy organization, and the office building is so shabby, not even an elevator!

Seems he’d have to climb the stairs.

Lacking exercise, Zhang Mingyang was breathless by the fourth floor, searching for room 145.

But after circling around, he couldn’t find it.

“Did I come to the wrong place?”

He grabbed a passing staff member and asked, “Sir, how do I get to room 145?”

Hearing the number, the staff member looked him up and down, a look of admiration on his face. He pointed to the right, “Young man, impressive! If you’re entering that room, you’re definitely ‘talented’—over there, there’s a door marked ‘Department 11.’ Go inside and you’ll find room 145.”

With that, the man gave Zhang Mingyang a hearty pat on the shoulder and walked away.

Watching him leave, Zhang Mingyang was bewildered. “What does it mean, ‘entering makes you talented’? What…what kind of logic is that?”

Though confused, he still had to go. Heading in the direction indicated, Zhang Mingyang found the Department 11 room.

He gently pushed open the door and looked inside—there was indeed a room marked 145.

Knocking politely, “Tap tap tap…”

“Come in!”