Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Starting with the Korean War, returning home to take charge

"Thirty million? You want me to sign this just to weld a metal ring?"

He Yuzhu slammed the proposal onto the table. The papers slid off and spread out on the floor, a jumble of white graphs and tables. Seven people sat in the conference room: Lao Zhou from the Electrical Engineering Institute, Chief Engineer Liu from the Shipbuilding Industry, Qian Zhiyuan from the Materials Department, and two young researchers. All eyes were fixed on He Yuzhu's face.

Lin Jianguo bent down to pick up the proposal, dusted it off, and didn't rush. "Rain Column, that's not an iron ring. It's ten meters in diameter, has a magnetic field of fifty Tesla, and is cooled to 4.2 Kelvin with liquid helium. You've built houses before, with load-bearing beams. This thing of mine—to build a skyscraper on the permafrost of the Greater Khingan Mountains—the foundation has to be driven into the bedrock."

"Cost." He Yuzhu tapped the table, one tap at a time, neither too hard nor too slow. "How much does the superconducting wire cost? How much does liquid helium cost? How much does the cryogenic container cost? Let's break it down."

Lin Jianguo turned to the spreadsheet. "Superconducting wire is 12 million. The niobium-titanium alloy wire provided by the electrical engineer is not pure enough, so Director Qian needs to make a carbon nanotube reinforcement layer. If a pure carbon nanotube composite structure is used, the wire price will drop to 8 million. Liquid helium system is 6 million, cryogenic container is 4 million, and labor costs are 10 million. This is the lowest price; I negotiated it three times."

He Yuzhu turned to Lao Zhou. "Have you ever made the largest size?"

Old Zhou was in his early fifties, half of his hair was white, and his eyes behind his black-rimmed glasses were narrowed to slits. He took off his glasses, wiped the lenses with the hem of his shirt, and put them back on. "Two meters. One we did last year for high-energy physics, a magnetic field of fifteen Tesla, which barely got running after six months of debugging. Ten meters, fifty Tesla, we've never touched that before. It's not a matter of money, it's a matter of insufficient technical reserves."

"Then why did you come to this meeting?" He Yuzhu asked with a slight smile, it was hard to tell whether he was angry or trying to provoke her.

Old Zhou wasn't provoked. He adjusted his glasses and said slowly, "Let me tell you, taking too big a step will backfire. A ten-meter ring, fifty Tesla, liquid helium cooling—no lab in the world can produce that. The Americans worked on a five-meter one, forty-five Tesla, burning through twenty million dollars over four years, and it finally went out of control and exploded. The project leader was Schwartz, a tenured professor at MIT, with twelve PhDs under him. Tell me—how many PhDs do you have under you? Can the concrete walls of your underground lab withstand the shockwave of a fifty Tesla loss of control?"

The meeting room was silent for two seconds.

Chief Engineer Liu coughed. He wore faded blue overalls with frayed cuffs, short, thick fingers, and machine oil embedded in his fingernails. He spoke before roll call even began. "Dean He, Old Zhou is right. Ten meters is too large; we haven't even done five meters. But has Dean Lin calculated the lower limit for the magnetic field required for curvature verification?"

Lin Jianguo turned to another page. "Theoretical simulations show that at least 30 Tesla is needed to verify spatial perturbations. Below this value, the signal will be drowned out by background noise. The ring diameter corresponding to 30 Tesla can be reduced to six meters. But there is not much difference in manufacturing difficulty between six meters and ten meters; the liquid helium system and cryogenic container are all there. The cost would be reduced by about five million, but twenty-five million is still expensive."

He Yuzhu stood up, walked to the blackboard, and picked up the chalk. He wrote a number: 10. He crossed it out and wrote 8. He crossed it out again and wrote 5. Finally, he wrote a 3, tapped it hard with the end of the chalk, and the chalk broke in two and fell to the ground.

He turned around. "Three meters. Do the three-meter ones first."

Lin Jianguo stood up. "Three meters won't produce thirty Teslas. The highest we can get is twenty, which doesn't even reach the verification threshold."

"If we can't reach it, we can't reach it." He Yuzhu kicked the broken piece of chalk into the corner. "Once we've mastered the three-meter loop, we'll make a five-meter one, and once we've mastered the five-meter one, we'll make an eight-meter one. Each time it explodes, the losses must be kept under five million. If we go all in with thirty million in one go and it explodes, I won't even be able to afford to pay for my underwear."

Old Zhou nodded.

Lin Jianguo was about to say something when Chief Engineer Liu tugged at his sleeve.

He Yuzhu drew a circle on the blackboard, not quite a perfect circle, more like a flattened egg. "I'll approve ten million. We'll start by building a three-meter prototype, not to verify the curvature, but to verify the manufacturing process and cryogenic control system. Once the twenty-Tesla prototype is running smoothly, we'll scale it up. The funding will start at ten million, with additional funding added after each stage is completed and passes inspection. Even if it explodes in the middle, the losses will be manageable."

Old Zhou was the first to nod. "That's the right approach. We should start with a small size, thoroughly understand the manufacturing process, and then scale it up. I agree."

Chief Engineer Liu nodded. "Our shipyard can make cryogenic containers with three-meter rings. We don't need to import them; we weld them ourselves, perform flaw detection, and conduct pressure testing ourselves. We can keep the cost below two million."

Qian Zhiyuan remained silent. He sat in the corner, several performance curves of carbon nanotube composite materials spread out in front of him, a red and blue pencil in his hand, drawing lines on the graphs and then erasing them. His fingers were long and slender, white and clean, a stark contrast to Chief Engineer Liu's thick, dark fingers. Only after everyone had finished speaking did he raise his head.

"Dean He, I need two months to make a small sample. The niobium-titanium alloy substrate with carbon nanotube coating can increase the current density by three to four times, but the coating uniformity has been difficult to solve. I'm testing three process routes simultaneously, and the fastest one has reached 87% completion. Give me two months, and I'll try to achieve over 95% completion."

"I'll give you two months." He Yuzhu pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, on which the budget allocation plan was already written. "The Electrical Engineering Institute will take three million, the Shipyard two million, Chengshan three million, and Director Qian two million. Chengshan's three million will mainly be used for site renovation and liquid helium procurement. This money will not come from government appropriations, but from Chengshan's own funds. The contract doesn't need to be reported to the Ministry; I'll sign it myself. But there's one condition—every penny spent must have an invoice, an acceptance certificate, and a signature. If anyone tries to skim money from this, don't blame me for being ruthless."

No one responded.

He Yuzhu pulled Qian Zhiyuan aside. "Director Qian, besides using your carbon nanotube composite wire in this superconducting ring, does it have any other applications?"

Qian Zhiyuan thought for a moment. "Theoretically, high current density superconducting wires can be used in any equipment that requires a strong magnetic field, such as nuclear magnetic resonance, particle accelerators, and magnetic confinement fusion. However, the current technology level cannot support industrial production; it can only be produced in small batches."

"Then let's start by producing a small batch. Once the superconducting ring is working, your wire will have an application scenario. In the future, when the country develops nuclear fusion, your wire will be a strategic material." He Yuzhu patted Qian Zhiyuan on the shoulder. "Two months, I'll be waiting for you."

Qian Zhiyuan didn't say much, picked up the blueprints on the table, and left with his well-worn canvas bag. Old Zhou and Chief Engineer Liu also left one after the other. Only He Yuzhu and Lin Jianguo remained in the conference room.

Lin Jianguo sat in his chair, legs crossed, twirling a pen in his hand. "Ten million for a three-meter ring, you've got a good idea. But have you considered this problem—once you've mastered the three-meter ring, you need to scale it up to five meters, then to eight meters. Each step requires redesigning, remanufacturing, and recalibrating. What about the time cost? At this pace, it will take at least three years to make a ten-meter ring. In three years, the Americans might be ahead of us."

"No matter how fast the Americans run, they still have to solve the physics problems first. Warp drive isn't like building an atomic bomb; you can't just throw money at it. Breakthroughs in basic theory, progress in materials science, and accumulation of manufacturing processes—every step has to be taken step by step, there are no shortcuts." He Yuzhu sat down opposite Lin Jianguo. "We chased Pu Zheng's case for ten years before we finally caught up. What's three years for a superconducting ring?"

Lin Jianguo threw his pen on the table, stood up, walked to the window, and drew back the curtains. The sky outside was overcast, the sun hidden. "Alright, I'll do as you say. I'll start assembling the project team tomorrow. I'll borrow people from the electrical engineering department if they need them. I'll personally oversee the shipyard's manufacturing plan. I'll follow up with Director Qian on the wire material progress every week."

"Don't rush him. The more you rush Qian Zhiyuan, the slower he'll go. He has his own rhythm."

Lin Jianguo turned around, a wry smile on his face. "You seem to know him quite well."

"Having dealt with him for so many years, how could I not understand him?" He Yuzhu stood up, gathered the scattered proposals and drawings on the table, stacked them, and stuffed them into his briefcase. He pressed the clasp—it wouldn't fasten. He pressed it again, and it popped open. Looking down, he saw that the spring in the clasp was loose.

He tossed his briefcase onto the table. "By the way, how's Nianhua doing lately?"

Lin Jianguo was taken aback. "Nianhua? You're asking me about your son?"

"He's been going to your place a lot lately, I thought you knew."

Lin Jianguo leaned against the windowsill, his hands in his pockets, and thought for a moment. "He borrowed a few books from me, all about aerospace medicine and flight physiology. I thought he was helping your institute's astronaut selection team organize data."

He Yuzhu's hand stopped on his briefcase. "Astronaut selection?"

"You don't know?" Lin Jianguo's expression changed, from casual to serious.

The conference room door was pushed open from the outside. Ma Yuejin poked half his body in, his dark face covered in sweat, an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth, his words muffled. "Dean He, I've been looking everywhere for you."

He Yuzhu pushed his briefcase aside. "What is it?"

Ma Yuejin walked in and stood next to Lin Jianguo. He glanced at Lin Jianguo, then at He Yuzhu, his lips opening and closing repeatedly. He took the cigarette from his mouth, tucked it behind his ear, and rubbed his hands together.

Lin Jianguo couldn't stand it anymore. "Old Ma, spit it out!"

Ma Yuejin took a deep breath. "Dean, that kid Nianhua..." He paused, his voice suddenly lowering as if afraid of being overheard, "...he wants to become an astronaut. Just these past few days, he's been coming to ask me about the selection criteria, writing them down one by one in a notebook, like it's the real deal."

No one spoke in the meeting room. He Yuzhu stood by the table, his fingers pressing on the broken clasp of the briefcase, pressing it down, it popped open, pressing it down, it popped open. Metal against metal, click, click, one after another, like the ticking of a second hand.

Lin Jianguo opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Old Zhou and Chief Engineer Liu had already left, and Qian Zhiyuan had also left. Only the three of them remained in the conference room.

He Yuzhu was still pressing the clasp. Click. Click.

Ma Yuejin swallowed hard. "Dean, I just wanted to let you know, nothing more. That child, Nianhua..."

"I know," He Yuzhu finally spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but the clasp stopped rattling. He pushed his briefcase aside and looked up.

"You all go out. Leave me alone for a while."

Lin Jianguo glanced at Ma Yuejin. Ma Yuejin took the cigarette off his ear, put it back in his mouth, but didn't light it. The two walked out of the conference room one after the other. The door closed behind them.

He Yuzhu sat in the chair, staring at the broken briefcase clasp. The sky outside the window was a hazy gray, the sun hidden. He thought of something, but didn't dwell on it. Outside, the wind stopped.