UAAG CH74

COMAC, short for the Commercial Aircraft Corporation of China, Ltd.

From the moment airplanes became a common mode of transportation, the two major aircraft manufacturers, America’s Boeing and McFly, dominated the market, holding a near-monopoly on global civil aircraft manufacturing. By the 1970s, four European nations united to establish Airbus, developing their own civil aircraft in hopes of splitting the market share with American manufacturers. Aside from them, smaller manufacturers like McDonnell Douglas and Embraer occupied very small portions of the market.

China lagged significantly behind the West in aircraft manufacturing. It wasn’t until the beginning of this century that COMAC was established.

China wanted to build its own aircraft, and over the past dozen years, it had seen significant results. However, most domestic airlines still opted for planes from Boeing, McFly, and Airbus. Firstly, because the aircraft manufactured by the latter were high quality and cost-effective; secondly, because COMAC had only been established for thirteen short years, and its manufacturing level was indeed inferior to the West.

When Fu Cheng and Zhuo Huan arrived at COMAC’s T1 factory, staff were already waiting at the gate.

Unlike entering the McFly factory, where they had to switch vehicles at the entrance, they were led by COMAC staff and drove directly into the facility.

On the flat, expansive plain, massive factory buildings stood under the sunlight. Their exteriors were high walls painted white, with only a large, blue-and-green COMAC logo printed on the top corner of each building.

They first toured the factory to see the specific manufacturing process, then, led by the staff, the two arrived at the laboratory.

Inside the lab, technicians in white lab coats were constantly communicating with their colleagues, discussing data. Various aircraft components were disassembled and categorized within the lab.

An airplane is a massive whole, but to design it well, one must attend to every detail.

From the millimeter thickness of the fuselage’s outer surface to the operation and calculation of the fly-by-wire system.

Fu Cheng’s gaze swept over these components one by one. Unlike the cold, assembly-line style of McFly’s experimental manufacturing, the designers in the COMAC lab discussed things more. However, their movements were also much slower than McFly’s. It was visible to the naked eye that these people were excellent talents in aircraft manufacturing, but their experience fell far short of the established aircraft manufacturers across the ocean with their decades of history.

Passing through two laboratories, a middle-aged man in a suit walked toward them. He extended his hand, stating his identity: “I am Wu Hui, the head of COMAC’s S1 Laboratory. I am primarily responsible for the CR939 project. Hello, Mr. Zhuo.” Then he turned to Fu Cheng. “Major Fu.”

Zhuo Huan also extended his hand, and the two shook.

Zhuo Huan went straight to the point: “Where is the current progress?”

Chief Designer Wu replied, “The CR939 is being self-developed by us, referencing the experience from the joint design of the CR929 with the Russians. Currently, we have completed the construction of the main fly-by-wire system, but regarding the airfoil of the wings, there are still some areas worth discussing.” He paused, looking at Zhuo Huan, and added, “Regarding the distribution of vortices and chord lines you mentioned earlier…”

Yes, this morning Fu Cheng had suddenly received a call from his old leader in the military, ordering him to assist Zhuo Huan by coming to the COMAC factory to help design and manufacture the CR939 large wide-body commercial aircraft.

Every airplane, from the moment its design preparation begins, is not just the concern of a single aircraft designer.

It requires an excellent chief designer to lead hundreds or thousands of designers through thousands of days and nights to bring it to life. At the same time, the ones who grow with it, witness its inspections, and execute every one of its flight missions are the test pilots.

Test pilots join the team the very day the aircraft design begins. Based on their understanding of the aircraft, they coordinate with the designers’ work. Both sides join forces to build the plane.

Zhuo Huan first listened to Chief Designer Wu introduce the current progress. As the other man spoke, his frown deepened. when Chief Designer Wu reached a certain part, he interrupted directly: “Take me to the lab.”

“Now?”

“Mn.”

“Uh, alright, please follow me.”

The staff member swiped a key card to open the security door. Zhuo Huan followed behind, striding out of the lab. Just as he was about to leave, he seemed to remember something. He turned back and said to Fu Cheng, “You should know the people on the test flight team. I’m more familiar with you, and our cooperation is more seamless, so the test flight mission for the new wing—I’m leaving it to you.”

Fu Cheng paused slightly. He looked at Zhuo Huan and nodded. “Okay.”

Thus, the two split up. One went to the wing laboratory, and the other, led by staff, went to the hangar where the test pilots were located.

When he saw the two young test pilots, Fu Cheng finally understood why Zhuo Huan said he would know them.

China placed great importance on the COMAC CR939 aircraft and had specially transferred excellent Air Force pilots from the military to serve as test pilots. One of them was Zhuo Huan’s junior, Du Sen.

When the young pilot with a buzz cut saw Fu Cheng, he was stunned for a moment, then ran over in pleasant surprise: “Major Fu? Senior?!”

Hearing this, the other person also hurried over. “You are Major Fu Cheng?”

Fu Cheng nodded.

Du Sen grinned, saying happily, “I heard from the squad leader a long time ago that Senior might be transferred here to help for a while. I didn’t expect to actually see you in person.” Before Fu Cheng could speak, this honest and simple young man scratched his head, suddenly realizing something. “Eh, maybe Senior doesn’t know who I am. I’m Du Sen! I’m also a student of Captain Qi. I only entered the training camp two years after you graduated, but I always heard Captain Qi talk about you.”

Fu Cheng smiled. “I know. You are excellent. I often heard your name when I was in the unit. You broke many records in the training camp.”

Du Sen: “Not as many as you broke, Senior.”

The other pilot chimed in, “Um, Du Sen, ask your Senior to give us an autograph?”

Once these words dropped, the two young men in their early twenties looked at Fu Cheng in unison. In their fervent, simple gazes, there were no superfluous emotions—like the clean, clear eyes of young animals, filled only with reverence and intense admiration.

Du Sen: “Senior, is it okay…”

Fu Cheng laughed. “Sure!”

Fu Cheng signed autographs for both young pilots. The two folded the papers carelessly and stuffed them into their uniform pockets.

Knowing Fu Cheng’s purpose for coming, Du Sen enthusiastically introduced him to the situation of the previous few test flights.

“Old Zhou and I joined the CR939 project early last year. Old Zhou has been following the progress the whole time, while I sometimes get transferred back to the military for other missions…”

Fu Cheng nodded as he listened.

Commercial aircraft are different from fighter jets. The former focuses more on economic viability and cost reduction. The latter relies more on the pilot, so during the design process, the demands on the test pilot are also higher.

Within just one hour, Fu Cheng understood the flight history of this aircraft over the past two years and the current design progress.

Old Zhou said, “We just finished a test flight last week. According to the schedule, I think the next one will be at least a month away.”

Fu Cheng looked up at the simulator standing in the center of the hangar. His gaze was firm as he said, “It won’t be.”

“Hm?”

“At most one week. He will definitely provide a new design plan.”

The two test pilots looked at each other, confirmed that their companion was equally confused, and didn’t ask further.

With work matters discussed, Du Sen couldn’t help but ask, “Senior, why did you suddenly retire?”

Fu Cheng looked at him. He thought for a moment and didn’t answer directly, but asked instead, “What version did you hear?”

Before Du Sen could speak, Old Zhou said, “I know this one. The version I heard is that something happened in your family, Senior. Your family didn’t agree with you continuing as an Air Force pilot, so you discharged.”

Du Sen: “Hey, why are you calling him Senior too?”

Old Zhou: “Hehe, we’re all Chinese Air Force pilots. What’s wrong with calling him Senior?”

Fu Cheng: “Something like that.”

Both young pilots looked at him curiously.

Fu Cheng looked at Du Sen. “What do you think?”

Du Sen thought for a moment and asked, “Does it have to do with Captain Qi?”

Fu Cheng looked at him quietly for a few seconds, smiled, and nodded. “Mn, I guess it has a little to do with that.”

By the time they came out of the lab, the sky was filled with stars.

On the desolate, open plain, the pitch-black dome covered the earth, with stars twinkling within it. Looking west, the edge of the sky was still a warm reddish-orange—the night sky illuminated by city lights, the direction of downtown Shanghai. The COMAC factory was located by the East Sea, and rarely, in such a dense night, could one still see starlight untainted by modern civilization.

Zhuo Huan walked to the car. Not long after, Fu Cheng also walked out of the factory building.

Zhuo Huan glanced at him and unlocked the car.

No one spoke; they both got into the vehicle.

Inserting the key into the ignition, Zhuo Huan first opened the windows for ventilation to dispel the heat baked in by the scorching sun all day. The cool evening breeze blew over them. Once the heat had mostly dissipated, Zhuo Huan closed the windows, turned on the air conditioning, and stepped on the gas. Amid the roar of the engine, the immense inertia threw Fu Cheng backward, his back pressing tightly against the seat. It took a few seconds for him to stabilize.

After leaving the COMAC factory, Zhuo Huan reached out and turned on the car stereo.

Amidst the melodious, gentle English female vocals, Zhuo Huan asked indifferently, “Did the work handover with the test pilots take that long?”

As if realizing what this person was going to say next, Fu Cheng lowered his eyes. It was a long time before he answered, “The handover was finished two hours ago.”

“Oh.”

Another long silence.

Three minutes later.

Zhuo Huan: “Was it difficult?”

Fu Cheng: “Not difficult.”

Zhuo Huan: “Then why did you wait for me for two hours?”

Fu Cheng: “This place is quite far from downtown Shanghai.”

Zhuo Huan held the steering wheel with one hand. He raised his eyes to look at the rearview mirror. Through the light reflected by the car lamps, he looked at Fu Cheng’s blurred features. The slender, handsome eyes were slightly lowered, and his eyelashes were extremely long, casting a faint shadow beneath his eyes. The young man looked calm, answering him in an unruffled tone: “It’s so far; getting a taxi isn’t convenient either.”

The fingers gripping the steering wheel tightened. A few seconds later, Zhuo Huan laughed. “Tsk, then do you want to pay me a taxi fare?”

Fu Cheng looked up and glanced at him.

A minute later, a phone rang. Zhuo Huan looked down at it.

“…Fuck! Are you fucking sick?”

Fu Cheng replied in an indifferent voice, “You said it yourself—taxi fare.”

Zhuo Huan was extremely irritated. He opened the car window and reached into his pocket with his other hand to fish out a cigarette pack. However, looking up, he saw in the rearview mirror that the young man in the passenger seat had turned his head to look out the window. He had also opened his window, seeming to know that the person next to him was about to smoke, so he opened it for ventilation.

Watching quietly for two seconds, Zhuo Huan closed the car window and put the cigarette pack he had just taken out back into his pocket. He unwrapped a piece of gum and started chewing.

The drive took two hours. After returning to downtown Shanghai, Zhuo Huan dropped Fu Cheng off at home first before driving back himself.

Early the next morning, Master Zhuo opened his eyes before 8:00 AM, a rare occurrence. He walked into the bathroom to wash up with a face full of exhaustion. Only when he was finally awake did he remember to check his phone, and then he saw the message Fu Cheng had sent.

[Fu Cheng: I’ve already taken a taxi to COMAC. I got familiar with the terrain yesterday, Teacher Zhuo, so I won’t need to borrow your car today.]

Zhuo Huan: “…”

For five consecutive days, Fu Cheng and Zhuo Huan didn’t see each other again.

Actually, if one insisted on being technical, they did see each other. Whenever new results came out of the lab, the test flight team would be informed, and the two sides would exchange opinions. But aside from that, there was no other contact.

On the afternoon of the sixth day, Fu Cheng was reconfirming tomorrow’s test flight mission with Du Sen and the others. Du Sen suddenly looked behind him. Fu Cheng’s heart skipped a beat, and he turned to follow his gaze. He saw Zhuo Huan wearing sunglasses, chewing gum, walking over.

Zhuo Huan: “I need to go back to UAAG to pick up some things.”

Fu Cheng: “Hm?”

Zhuo Huan: “Help me move some stuff.”

“…Okay.”

Getting into the Ferrari, the two headed west. This time they were facing the setting sun. Before the sky turned dark, they returned to downtown Shanghai.

Along the way, no one spoke.

After arriving at the UAAG headquarters building, Zhuo Huan parked the car in the public parking lot on the first floor, and the two took the elevator upstairs together.

Fu Cheng remembered that when they left last week, Old Joseph and the others had gone ahead, leaving only the renovation workers busy. Returning this time, the moment he entered the door, his eyes widened in surprise.

During the week they were away, the renovation workers had almost completely transformed the UAAG headquarters. Originally, UAAG had very few rooms; Lina’s design philosophy was open cooperation. Except for places like the conference room and the database, no other walls were built, allowing for a sweeping view of everything.

But now, Lina had designed many separate rooms. Although their purposes weren’t yet apparent, this once-open space had completely changed.

The renovation workers had long since gotten off work and left. Only Lina’s desk remained, covered with many documents.

Fu Cheng looked at them for a moment, paused, and looked at Zhuo Huan. “The airfoil change direction for McFly’s F475?”

Zhuo Huan gave a lazy hum of affirmation. “Move them to my car.”

Fu Cheng fell silent, then began helping to move the boxes of documents.

This massive pile of data was what they had painstakingly calculated over five days and nights in Los Angeles last month, plus more than a month of preparation beforehand. Although this was just a direction and didn’t constitute actual theft of McFly’s trade secrets, Fu Cheng naturally realized by now that the airfoil modification technology Zhuo Huan wanted to use on the new COMAC model shared the same origin as the work for McFly. Though not identical, the inspiration was derived from it.

There is no such thing as plagiarism in the realm of science.

From the same experiment, what you can obtain depends entirely on your aptitude.

This is the world of geniuses.

After three trips back and forth, they finally moved all the boxes of documents downstairs and put them into the front trunk of the car.

By this time, the sky was getting dark. The sun was setting, and many white-collar workers working in the building were trickling out of the main entrance.

UAAG headquarters was very close to Fu Cheng’s home.

After moving the things, Zhuo Huan rolled his wrist and took the car keys out of his pocket. Fu Cheng looked at his back. After a moment of silence, just as he was about to say that he wanted to go home alone and that Zhuo Huan didn’t need to drive him, he heard a pleasantly surprised female voice from behind: “Fu Cheng?!”

Fu Cheng froze abruptly. He turned around and saw the newcomer. “Su Qiao?”

A beautiful woman wearing a Chanel suit, carrying an LV chain bag in her left hand and walking on high heels, approached them. She glanced at the car behind Fu Cheng and asked in surprise, “Is that your car?”

Fu Cheng looked back. “No, it’s my friend’s.”

Hearing this, Zhuo Huan stood by the car door, hands in his pockets, looking at Fu Cheng’s back with a faint, ambiguous smile.

However, Fu Cheng seemed to notice none of it.

Su Qiao gave a soft “Oh.” Her gaze flickered over Zhuo Huan’s face, showing a hint of amazement, but she quickly withdrew her gaze. She looked up earnestly and smiled at Fu Cheng. “Since we had coffee at the cafe last time, we haven’t been in touch. I sent you a WeChat message two weeks ago; why didn’t you reply?”

Fu Cheng was silent for a moment. “Sorry, I probably didn’t see it.”

Su Qiao: “I know you’re busy. You’ve lost so much weight. Do you work in this building?”

Fu Cheng: “Mn.”

Su Qiao: “What a coincidence, I’m next door! I’ve never seen you before.”

Fu Cheng: “I travel frequently and am rarely at the company.”

The dazzlingly beautiful woman tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and smiled slightly. “I see. Then do you have time for the class reunion next month? I sent you the WeChat message for this exact reason. I told them I would definitely be able to bring you this time.” She blinked pitifully. “You won’t skip it again and make me lose face, will you, Fu Cheng?”

Suddenly running into Su Qiao caught Fu Cheng completely off guard, and then she mentioned the class reunion.

Fu Cheng was stunned and didn’t speak for a moment.

Su Qiao curved her red lips. “Let me tell you about it in detail. This class reunion is because a classmate’s family is in a bit of trouble, and everyone wants to help him. We haven’t seen each other in a long time anyway. How about we have dinner together? I can tell you about it then.”

Fu Cheng’s lips moved. Just as he was about to speak, a man’s careless voice came from behind him.

“Hey, Fu Cheng.”

His body stiffened, and Fu Cheng turned around.

The sunglasses had been pushed up to the man’s forehead, revealing those clear, elegant eyes. Zhuo Huan leaned one hand on the car roof, propped his chin with the other, tilted his head to look at him, and said in a loose, casual tone: “Didn’t you say you were eating with me?”

The afterglow of the setting sun sank below the horizon, blocked by skyscrapers. The night deepened, and his heart sank bit by bit.

Their eyes met. Fu Cheng looked quietly at Zhuo Huan. Zhuo Huan wore a smile, watching him silently as well.

Those few short seconds felt like a lifetime.

Fu Cheng smiled. “Did I say that? Teacher Zhuo, are you remembering incorrectly? I’m going to eat with a friend. Is there anything else?”

His gaze lingered on the young man’s smiling face for a long time. Zhuo Huan reached out and pulled his sunglasses down with an understated motion.

Zhuo Huan: “Oh, then maybe I remembered wrong.”

Fu Cheng: “I’m leaving first, Teacher Zhuo.”

Zhuo Huan: “Mn.”

In the gloomy night, many office workers got off work and walked out of the building. Among those young figures were men and women, and many couples walking side by side.

Among so many men and women walking together, the handsome young man and the pretty woman were undoubtedly the most outstanding.

She must be a very conversational woman; she looked up at Fu Cheng from time to time. She loved to smile when she spoke, revealing two cute, sweet pear dimples.

Zhuo Huan watched them disappear, step by step, at the entrance of the parking lot.

He took a silver cigarette case from his pocket and pulled out a cigarette.

With a click, he lit it.

Leaning against the car door, watching the intersection where the two had disappeared, he smoked silently in the night wind.

Ten minutes, twenty minutes, half an hour…

The lights in the building turned off floor by floor, and fewer and fewer office workers came out.

The last cigarette in the case was gone.

Zhuo Huan looked up at the sky. He took off the sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His light-colored eyes were filled with confusion, a hint of helplessness, and a childish innocence—like a lost child who didn’t know where he was.

His lips parted, and finally, slowly closed again.

Author’s Note:
Zhuo RIP: Does he not want me anymore?

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