Chapter Eleven: The Practical Exam

A low rumble rolled across the ground as the rocket engine’s scorching exhaust blasted out with a thunderous roar, completely enveloping the ceramic tile. White steam instantly erupted from the water trough beneath the test stand. Shang Lu watched from a distance, adjusting the sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, thinking how few materials in the world could withstand such a test.

Fifteen seconds later, the rocket fuel was exhausted. Once the smoke and steam cleared, the test team saw from afar that the ceramic tile remained intact on the test stand.

“How’s it looking?”

“Still there! The item survived! But the heat sensors all burned out…”

“Check the thermal conductivity first. Hey, you guys—take it back to the engineering lab, measure the tensile and tensile strength, and get the results back as soon as possible.”

“Truly a trial by fire,” Shang Lu murmured.

“Hafnium carbide is originally a material for rocket nozzles. When it comes to high-temperature resistance, it’s number one. But resources are scarce nowadays; it’s not easy to get this much,” said the test group leader standing beside him. A colonel from the equipment department, roughly in his forties, he asked Shang Lu, “Shang Gong, what did Commander Ji say about this?”

“Commander Ji plans to make a shield out of it, requiring it to withstand direct exposure from the Lighthouse Angel for at least twenty seconds,” Shang Lu replied. “If this test passes, the shield can start production.”

“Shang Gong, have you ever seen that thing?”

“I have,” Shang Lu nodded.

“Shang Gong, you know better than we do. Let me ask you something—if you don’t want to answer, just don’t,” the leader pulled Shang Lu aside and lowered his voice. “How confident do you think we are... about this?”

Shang Lu was taken aback.

“The Lighthouse Angel?”

The leader nodded.

Shang Lu thought to himself, who could really know? Only one person in the world knew the odds—the pilot of the Red Lotus. But he looked up at this weary middle-aged man, whose long eyebrows were tightly furrowed, his eyes tinged with faint worry and anxiety, hands clenched as if trying to squeeze some secret from him—probably because his wife and children were still in Chongqing, and the success rate of this operation was uncertain. He wanted to gather information early, just in case things went badly, so he could send his family to the rear in advance. Many people in Unit 151 did the same, placing their wives and children in the city for easier visits and care.

Shang Lu thought, in this era, having a complete family was both a blessing and a burden. Why bring the next generation into this world?

What good was knowing the news early? Everyone understood: if Chongqing fell, the rear would fall too. No matter where you sent them, it was the same. Such a simple truth. Yet, watching those men with families, they clung to absurd hope, expecting a miracle at the last moment.

“I…” Shang Lu’s phone suddenly rang in his pocket.

“Sorry, I need to take this call,” he said.

A crisp female voice came from the other end.

“Supervisor?”

Shang Lu was momentarily stunned before realizing she was calling him.

“Yes, this is me.”

“Where are you now?”

“I’m testing high-temperature ceramic…”

“Enough, enough. I don’t care what you’re testing. Come to Room 110,” Shen Jiang said. “You have five minutes to show up.”

“What’s so urgent?” Shang Lu smiled apologetically at the leader as he walked out, speaking on the phone. “I’m at the Chongqing University playground; there’s no way I can get there in five minutes… Hey! Comrade, are you from the equipment department? Is the vehicle heading back to base?”

“Move it! If you’re late, you’re dead meat!”

“Huh?”

…

Shang Lu hurried to the workshop, where Shen Jiang was already waiting on the work floor. She greeted a girl breathlessly, thankfully not too late.

This time, Shen Jiang was no longer in a blue coverall. She was fully armored in a bulky, heavy black suit, resembling a spacesuit or a heavy diving suit. This was the second time Shang Lu had seen her in this gear; the first was at the entrance to the cockpit of the giant mech. Clearly, this was the equipment worn to pilot the Red Lotus. She held a helmet in her hand, scanned Shang Lu up and down, then said coldly:

“Take it off.”

Shang Lu froze. What? Take it off?

“Take off your clothes,” Shen Jiang repeated without expression. “If you don’t want your clothes to become sticky and impossible to clean, you’d better take them off.”

Shang Lu stepped back nervously, clutching his collar. What was going on? Even if I’m not late, am I still going to get grilled?

“Commander Ji arranged this. I’ll continue guiding you through the Red Lotus’s major structures and modules today. Before the test starts, we have thirty minutes,” Shen Jiang pointed to the giant mech behind her. “I’ll take you into the cockpit.”

Shang Lu’s heart skipped a beat.

The massive head of the Red Lotus loomed before him. He never imagined he’d have the chance to enter the mech’s interior so soon, let alone operate the colossal machine. It was unbelievable. Two days ago, he was just an ordinary man with nothing to do with any of this. If fate had a traceable path, it surely was too complex for anyone to unravel.

“Do I really have to take off my clothes?”

“If you don’t, you’ll have to run naked back,” Shen Jiang said. “Your choice.”

Though entering the mech’s cockpit was a once-in-a-lifetime experience for an ordinary person, Shang Lu glanced around. People came and went in the workshop; would it be too strange to strip here?

“We don’t have much time,” the girl urged.

Shang Lu steeled himself, closed his eyes, gritted his teeth. So what? A man stands tall; taking off his clothes is nothing to fear. Just pretend he’s on the Maldives!

He pulled off his short sleeves and hung them over the railing of the workbench.

“Did you read the maintenance manual and Riemann geometry I gave you?” Shen Jiang stood nearby, leisurely asking.

“I did,” Shang Lu said, loosening his belt, “but I couldn’t get through it. Too much math—it gave me a headache.”

“Slow-witted,” she retorted.

Shang Lu had no comeback. Who could argue with a genius chosen from hundreds of thousands? She could mentally calculate partial differential equations like no human, probably because she had a higher-dimensional brain that could handle high-dimensional objects. Everyone looked dull beside her.

Shang Lu took off his trousers and hung them aside. Now he was down to just his boxers. No one paid him any mind—it seemed normal here, as if nothing unusual happened in this place.

“Put this on,” Shen Jiang handed him a breathing mask. “You can’t breathe inside.”

The breathing apparatus was a deep red vest with an oxygen tank on the back. Shang Lu put the vest on and donned the transparent mask, testing his breath. He looked like he was about to go diving.

“Can you hear me?” a clear voice came from the mask’s microphone.

Shang Lu nodded.

“Good,” Shen Jiang gave a thumbs-up and grinned, “Let’s get on board.”