In a certain city, an old man with gray-white hair stepped off a plane with a group of young people trailing behind him. Their faces looked like they'd been smeared with ashes, dark and sullen.
No one could really blame them. They'd gone to the global space conference full of excitement, only to come back feeling disgusted yet again by the same old attitudes from the foreigners. The fact that none of them were cursing out loud was already a sign of their restraint.
"Teacher, we all thought that with aliens invading, the Western countries would finally set aside their prejudices and work with us. At least let us use the space station. But it was the same old nonsense—they brushed us off again. Just thinking about it pisses me off. They even said the alien attack was America's problem and had nothing to do with us. I swear that NASA official must've been an alien in disguise."
"Jianhao, stop talking. Can't you see the teacher's already in a bad mood?"
The complaining man fell silent. In truth, Old Li wasn't really angry. As someone who had dedicated his life to China's space program, he was already used to the West's two-faced behavior—promising cooperation one day, then shutting China out the next. Over and over, they'd agree to work together on space projects, then take the money and kick China to the curb, blocking access to the space station and locking down technology. The US, Russia, Britain, France, even Japan could go to the station—but not China.
Through decades in aerospace, Old Li had poured his heart into every chance to work with the West, only to get ghosted or pushed aside each time. By now, anger wasn't even an option. What good would it do? The Western countries were ahead in space, held the monopoly, and simply refused to share. There was nothing he could do but keep striving to catch up.
"Let's go home," Old Li said. As he spoke, he remembered the soldier who had come to see him before he left the country. Back then, he'd been busy prepping for the conference and hadn't paid much attention. Now, thinking it over, he regretted going to that pointless meeting. He should have asked what the military needed help with instead. He'd always felt that working with the army was a waste of his talents, but the Westerners' arrogance this time was just too much. They didn't care at all about the crisis Earth might face—they were stubborn and selfish, wasting everyone's time. He decided he'd call that number as soon as he got home, and he'd never attend one of those foreign conferences again. Let them rot.
At lunch, they ate vegetables grown right there at the Kunlun Mountain base. The taste was amazing, fresh and flavorful even though it was mass-cooked. The General guaranteed there was no MSG—produce from Kunlun's fields just tasted that good.
In the afternoon, Liu A'dou went to visit the training base for space vehicle pilots. This included both fighter and utility spacecraft. The trainees were split into warriors and miners. Although they were from the same unit, their jobs were very different.
The training methods were similar to those for astronauts, but while astronauts needed science knowledge, these people needed to learn combat and mining skills.
"We already have our own space fighters?" Liu A'dou asked. He felt like he didn't remember that detail—he'd provided so much tech that he was starting to mix things up.
"This was something we'd been developing in secret long before your help," the General explained. It had started during the space race with the US and Russia: they'd modified satellites into manned space fighters. Essentially, they strapped a recoilless laser weapon onto a satellite, added fold-out solar panels, installed thrusters all around it, and stuck a pilot inside. It looked exactly like an ordinary satellite, just with someone driving it.
All three major space powers had these things, but they were mostly showpieces—brought out for intimidation, then shoved back into storage. Without the new technology Liu A'dou had provided, they wouldn't have been able to turn these old prototypes into something usable.
Liu A'dou thought that while these were crude, they were probably what humanity's first real space battles would look like. Satellite technology was already mature, and modifying them into fighters actually made a lot of sense.
The mining machines were similar—just swap out the solar panels for cables and add robotic arms. As Liu A'dou liked to put it, they'd basically turned excavators into orbiting satellites.
It was a tough first step, but the new tech Liu A'dou brought this time would definitely help.
Just then, the General stepped aside to take a call, leaving An Rong to continue the tour. He was headed straight for a certain city.
Old Li never expected that just three hours later, the military man would already show up at his door. "The army really moves fast," he said with a sigh.
The general took a seat. "Have you made your decision, Old Li?"
"I don't know what exactly you want me to do," Old Li replied. "If it's to design a fighter jet, count me out. But if you need me as a consultant, this old bag of bones can still contribute to the country."
"This is classified. I can't tell you the details," the general said. "But I can guarantee this is something that will change the fate of our nation. It's a mission that will put us ahead of the Western world."
Old Li was stunned. He'd only expected some ordinary task, not something of this magnitude. He wasn't a fool. He closed his eyes and thought for a moment, then asked slowly, "Compared to the Two Bombs, One Satellite project, how does it measure up?"
"It's every bit as important—if not more."
That answer made Old Li's eyes light up. He didn't know what exactly the mission was, but if it could achieve something on that level, then it was worth staking the rest of his life on.
"The level of secrecy—just like before?"
The general nodded silently. There was no need to spell it out. The Kunlun Mountain's confidentiality meant years of potential isolation from family, with all your sweat, tears, and even blood left behind there, becoming an unsung pillar of the nation.
Old Li had lost his wife long ago and never had children. He lived alone now, but he did have a few students… He thought about bringing them along, but immediately dismissed the idea. He was old—this could be his last contribution, his final mission. His students were still young, with lives ahead of them. Jianhao hadn't even married yet. He couldn't drag them into this. He'd go alone.
Old Li nodded firmly. "An old soldier still can eat; an old steed still dreams of a thousand-mile journey. I'll go with you."
"You won't regret this," the general promised. "Old Li, we can leave now. I'll have someone pack your things."
Old Li took one last look at his room. Then he straightened his back and declared, "Let's go!"
Three more hours passed, and darkness fell. Old Li remembered eating dinner on the plane. After that, they'd taken helicopters back and forth so many times he had no idea where they were anymore. Judging by the chill in the air, they had to be somewhere with high altitude—maybe Tibet.
"Old Li, don't blink. You're about to enter China's most secret base. There, you'll shine brighter than ever and leave the world in awe."
Whoosh—
Wind roared past his ears. Old Li heard it clearly. Then, the view outside suddenly changed. Light burst into the darkness, revealing ancient-style buildings all around him. The old man's eyes widened in shock. He couldn't understand what had just happened—how did everything change so suddenly?
"Welcome to the Kunlun Mountain Space Development Base."
Old Li's gaze was immediately drawn to a massive object in the distance: a spaceship fixed in a giant clamp. Under the bright lights, the craft gleamed, but it looked nothing like any rocket or shuttle he'd ever seen. It resembled an enormous kite with an exaggerated wingspan, yet also looked like a giant slab of brick. The sight was strangely familiar. He remembered an old friend idly sketching designs for a heavy-lift spaceship like this one. He'd seen those blueprints and even joked back then that it'd take a hundred years before something like that could exist. But here it was, just a few years later, standing before him. "What is this?" he asked.
"This is the Wugang," the general replied. "Wugang who chopped at the laurel tree on the moon—his unyielding spirit is our own."
In this Kunlun Mountain dimension, the sky cycled between day and night. Under the floodlights, the Wugang spaceship stood like a silent giant, ready for launch. In just one more month, it would soar into space.
Looking at it, Old Li was speechless. He felt a surge of certainty that his decision had been the right one. Maybe, just maybe, he would live to see his motherland sail among the stars and realize a dream.