World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"Your Excellency, this is Mr. DuPont, the representative of Blériot Company," Wang Wenwu introduced, then turned to the French pilot, "This is Mr. Charles Lefebvre, our flight instructor."

DuPont, who spoke a little English, warmly shook hands with Chen Feng: "Mr. Chen, it's a pleasure to meet you. These two Blélio XIs are our company's finest products; they just set a record for transatlantic flight last year!"

Charles simply nodded and mumbled something in French. The translator beside him whispered, "He said it's too rudimentary here; the runway is substandard, there's no hangar, and not even refueling equipment."

"Tell him the equipment will be ready within a week," Chen Feng said calmly. "Now, let's take a look at the aircraft."

The wooden crate was carefully opened. The moment the canvas was lifted, a gasp of amazement rippled through the crowd.

This is a real airplane.

With its streamlined fuselage, smooth skin, slender wings, and exquisite propellers, this is a work of art compared to the bulky wooden frame of the "Young Eagle-1".

"The fuselage is 8 meters long, the wingspan is 9 meters, the empty weight is 300 kilograms..." DuPont introduced it as if it were a treasure trove, "Equipped with a 50-horsepower Anzani engine, the top speed is 120 kilometers per hour, and the range is 400 kilometers..."

The trainees crowded around, wanting to touch but not daring to.

Zhou Afu squeezed to the front, his eyes wide with disbelief: "My God... this thing can really fly?"

Ali murmured in Arabic, "God, this is faster than the fastest horse..."

Charles pushed through the crowd and said in broken English, "Make way! Make way! I need to inspect the plane. You people, stay away, you can't afford to pay for any damage!"

Chen Feng gave a signal, and Master Ma immediately led the engineers back, but their eyes never left the plane.

For the next three days, the base was like a holiday.

Charles directed the ground crew to assemble the aircraft—in fact, he did most of the work himself, with the Lanfang staff only assisting. He had extreme distrust of the skills of "these Asians," personally tightening every bolt and repeatedly checking every lever.

Chen Feng wasn't in a hurry. He instructed Master Ma's technical team to split into two groups: one to watch Charles assemble the first aircraft and record every step; the other to secretly measure the dimensions of the parts, draw sketches, and record data while Charles rested.

"The wing frame is made of spruce wood... the skin is linen coated with shellac..."

"The landing gear is made of welded steel tubing... the wheels are pneumatic rubber tires..."

"The control system is a steel cable... the rudder is controlled by foot pedals..."

Every evening, the engineers would gather in the conference room to compile the data they had secretly observed and measured during the day. Sketches were drawn up, and questions were raised one by one.

Why do airplane wings have dihedrals?

"For lateral stability."

Why is the tail wing designed this way?

"For longitudinal stability."

As Chen Feng explained, he drew force analysis diagrams on the blackboard. These engineers were all intelligent; they grasped things immediately. After three days, their understanding of aircraft had surpassed what they had gained in the previous two months of trial and error.

On the morning of the fourth day, the first aircraft was assembled.

Charles donned his flight suit and goggles, and climbed into the cockpit under the watchful eyes of the crowd. The engine started, emitting a crisp hum—much better than the makeshift car engine of "Young Eagle-1."

The plane taxied on the runway, so light it seemed to float away. In less than a hundred meters, the wheels left the ground.

"It's flying! It's really flying!"

Everyone cheered. The trainees jumped for joy, the engineers clenched their fists, and even the usually serious Li Te smiled.

The plane circled above the base at an altitude of about two hundred meters. Sunlight shone on its milky-white wings, reflecting a dazzling light. It turned, climbed, and swooped down, like a free spirit.

Zhou Afu looked at the sky, his lips trembling: "My God... people really can go to heaven..."

Ali was kneeling on the ground, praying in the direction the plane was flying—it was unclear whether he was praying to God or to science.

Ten minutes later, the plane landed smoothly. Charles jumped out of the cockpit, a slight smile finally appearing on his face.

"It's alright," he said in English. "Although the runway is too rough and the sandstorm is too strong, the plane is a good plane."

Chen Feng stepped forward: "Mr. Charles, could you give someone a ride around?"

The French pilot raised an eyebrow: "Who are you with? You?"

"No, my student."

Charles glanced at the young faces and shook his head: "Too dangerous. They're all novices; if they make any sudden movements in the air, they could kill me."

"I can pay more," Chen Feng said bluntly. "One hundred pounds for taking one person on a flight."

The price made Charles waver. He thought for a moment: "Only one can be brought. And they must obey my orders and not move around."

"make a deal."

Chen Feng turned to the trainees: "Who wants to be the first to go into space?"

More than thirty hands were raised. Every pair of eyes burned with longing.

Chen Feng's gaze swept across the crowd, finally landing on Zhou Afu: "Zhou Afu, step forward."

"Yes!" Zhou Afu practically jumped out.

Are you scared?

"Reporting to the President! We are not afraid!"

"Okay." Chen Feng patted his shoulder. "Once you're up there, look with your eyes, listen with your ears, and remember with your brain. When you come back, I'll ask you what you saw, what you heard, and what you felt."

"clear!"

Zhou Afu was helped by ground staff to put on a spare flight jacket—it was too big and wobbled around. He climbed into the back seat, and Charles gave him a few simple instructions: "Hold on tight, don't move around, if you feel nauseous, vomit on the side, not on me."

The engine restarted.

This time, as the plane took off, everyone's hearts were in their throats. Zhou Afu, sitting in the back seat, was initially so nervous that his whole body stiffened, but soon he was stunned by the sight before him.

The earth unfolded beneath my feet, the sand dunes transformed into tiny waves, the base shrank to the size of a matchbox, and the silhouette of Dubai was faintly visible in the distance. The wind whistled in my ears, but not the dusty gale typical of the ground; it was a clean, powerful airflow.

"How are you feeling?" Charles shouted from the front seat.

"That's...that's amazing!" Zhou Afu didn't know any other words, so he could only repeat, "That's amazing!"

The plane made several gentle turns. With each tilt, Zhou Afu could feel the centrifugal force pressing him into his seat. He looked down at the ground and found everything so small and so far away.

So this is what flying is.

So this is what the world looks like from the sky.

It turns out that humans really can conquer the sky.

Five minutes later, the plane landed. When Zhou Afu was helped off the plane, his legs were weak, but his eyes shone like stars.

"How was it?" The students gathered around.

"I can't explain it..." Zhou Afu shook his head. "I really can't explain it... You'll have to fly it yourself to know..."