Chapter Twenty-Six: The Proton Storage Ring

All through the noon, Zhang Mingyang led his team in inspecting the entire pipeline, and, following the procedures in the manual, replaced the cooling “liquid helium” as well.

When lunchtime came, Zhang Mingyang stepped out of the laboratory. The weather was beautiful; the midday sun hung high in the sky, its warmth enveloping him.

“Mingyang!”

His instructor, Lin Guangming, hurried over.

Seeing his teacher rushing, Zhang Mingyang quickly went to meet him. “Sir, what’s the matter? Why the hurry?”

“How’s your cold?” Lin Guangming asked, panting.

Zhang Mingyang patted his teacher’s back, letting him catch his breath, and replied, “I’m fine. Just a mild cold, almost gone now.”

“Good. I have a task for you. Our materials will arrive soon—go and check them upon delivery.”

“Materials? Graphite ore?” Zhang Mingyang couldn't help but ask.

Lin Guangming pulled a document from his briefcase and handed it to him.

Zhang Mingyang took the document, a logistics form. Written on it were the words: “Mobile Proton Storage Ring”—five units, totaling fifty tons, scheduled to arrive at 1:30 this afternoon.

“A mobile proton storage ring? Such a thing really exists?”

He had only ever seen the fixed “proton storage ring” in the laboratory. He’d never seen a mobile version.

“This was a product of the ‘Halo Project’ back then,” Lin Guangming explained. “To support the construction of antimatter, five transportable ‘proton storage rings’ were specially built. Our base can produce protons on its own, but time is tight and tasks are heavy. So, we reached an agreement with other facilities: they manufacture the protons, and we transport them in these storage rings. It greatly reduces the time needed to create antimatter.”

“Sir, just how much classified tech is left from the ‘Halo Project’?”

Lin Guangming shook his head. “I only found out after joining base management. If you really want to know, ask Wang Bowen. I always feel he’s keeping something from us.”

“Grandpa Wang, hiding something from us? I don’t believe he’d do that.”

“If he didn’t, would you even be here? Mingyang, you’re sometimes too trusting. One day that’ll cost you.”

Zhang Mingyang nodded, taking his teacher’s advice to heart.

“All right, I have other matters. The plane arrives at 1:30. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t.”

With that, Lin Guangming left, already making a call as he walked away.

After he left, Zhang Mingyang looked over the logistics form again to confirm the time.

During lunch, as usual, Zhang Mingyang listened to the older colleagues gossip about the base’s latest rumors, showing none of the airs of esteemed professors or academicians—no technical talk at all.

“Did you hear? Old Wang at Factory Two’s wife is divorcing him because he’s been missing for too long—she had an affair!”

“Old Zhang, that happened years ago. Everyone’s known for ages.”

“Oh, you all knew?”

The others nodded, indicating it was old news.

“All right, let me tell you something even more peculiar. Last night, with the heavy rain, someone actually stood out on the northern hillside all night. Did you know?”

Damn, wasn’t that me? Zhang Mingyang thought awkwardly, shaking his head and feigning ignorance, as did the others.

“See? No one knows.”

Old Zhang grinned with satisfaction and continued, “I heard that kid was trying to pursue Bai Muqing from the logistics department—the base’s top beauty. They’d arranged to meet on the hillside, but she stood him up, so he waited in the rain all night. I bet he caught a cold by morning.”

Laughter erupted from the group. “What a fool.”

As they laughed, everyone’s eyes drifted to Zhang Mingyang.

He was swallowing cold medicine when he suddenly felt the weight of their stares.

“What’s wrong?”

“Mingyang, did you catch a cold today?”

Glancing at his double-layered coat and the cold medicine in hand, Zhang Mingyang knew he couldn’t argue.

“Uh-huh.”

Another asked, “Were you on the northern hillside last night?”

Zhang Mingyang scratched his head with his left hand and started packing up with his right, pretending to glance at his watch. “Well, gentlemen, it’s almost 1:30 and I have a task to finish. Please, carry on.”

With that, he bolted out of the cafeteria.

One thirty? Old Zhang checked his watch—it was just past half-past twelve.

“That rascal, I knew it was him.”

...

Out of the cafeteria, Zhang Mingyang wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling his back soaked—his cold nearly cured by now.

“These old guys gossip with more enthusiasm than anyone. But how do they get their news so fast? Who saw me?”

Puzzled, he headed for the airfield. He dared not return to the cafeteria—those old hands could probably unearth the secrets of his entire family if he did.

Crossing the 800-meter tunnel and passing the robotic checkpoint, Zhang Mingyang reached the airfield once more. The first time he’d come here, he was a rookie, nearly shot at the tunnel gate. Now, just days later, he already carried himself with the casual confidence of a seasoned veteran.

On the runway, Zhang Mingyang spotted Commander Liu—the very same he’d met on his first day at the base.

“Commander Liu!” Zhang Mingyang called out.

“Zhang Mingyang?” Liu Ming hurried over.

“Haven’t seen you in days,” Liu Ming said, shaking his hand.

“Don’t mention it,” Zhang Mingyang grinned sheepishly. “I’ve been swamped lately, barely any time to breathe.”

“So what brings you here today?”

Zhang Mingyang handed over the logistics form.

“Oh, the proton storage rings. They’ll be here soon,” Liu Ming said as he led Zhang Mingyang to the airport lounge.

Once seated, Liu Ming poured him a cup of hot tea.

“Commander Liu, does Bai Muqing work at the airport?”

At the mention of Bai Muqing, Liu Ming paused, thinking Zhang Mingyang, like the others, was simply after information about her.

“Yes, our logistics office is at the airport. The valley inside is part of the base’s core area—most of our logistics staff can’t access it. Only management and key personnel can enter. The rest live and work near the airport.”

“I see.”

Zhang Mingyang nodded, finally understanding how Bai Muqing could move freely in and out of the base’s inner area.

He asked a few more questions, which Liu Ming explained patiently.

“Commander, five Air Force transport planes request permission to land,” came a report through Liu Ming’s communicator.

“Brother, your delivery has arrived.”

The two walked to the tarmac as five massive Air Force transport planes descended from the sky.

“Open the cargo bay.”

With a groan, the hatch opened, revealing an enormous circular machine inside.