"Composites make up 63% of the 787, eight percentage points higher than the 787." Zhenbei turned the holographic projector toward his father, and pale blue data streams intertwined in mid-air to form a three-dimensional anatomical diagram of the wing skeleton. "But the FAA requires us to disclose the patent details of our carbon fiber weaving process."
A cold wave suddenly hit, and the hem of Xiao Zhen's coat was lifted up by the draft.
He caught a glimpse of the gold-rimmed nightclub VIP card sticking out from the edge of his son's suit pocket, and the corners of his mouth curled up slightly.
This playboy who has learned to use champagne towers to build dominoes is now using his slender fingers to accurately draw the stress curve in the holographic projection.
"Dr. Makarov is waiting for you." Zhang Huiwen appeared at the right moment, holding a steaming cup of Ceylon tea. The steam created a white mist on the bulletproof glass. "The latest test report from the Moscow Institute of Aviation Materials just arrived this morning."
While walking through the composite material workshop with constant temperature and humidity, Xiao Zhen noticed that Zhenbei's Oxford shoes left shallow shoe prints on the epoxy resin floor.
The soles of shoes that have walked on the dance floors of all the nightclubs in Wukesong are now measuring the most precise pulse of China's civil aviation industry.
"Academician Xiao!" Makarov's signature Russian hug reeked of jet fuel. His age-spotted hand clapped against Zhenbei's shoulder. "Your little wolf cub nearly dismantled my wind tunnel yesterday—to verify wing flutter data, he actually had the test pilot perform a Cobra maneuver!"
Zhenbei's ears flushed, and his fingertips unconsciously rubbed the third button of his suit. Xiao Zhen recognized this gesture—a few years ago, when he was negotiating the hatch patent in Houston, he would touch the same spot every time his technical shortcomings were exposed.
"This is a 3D carbon fiber weaving machine." The old expert suddenly lowered his voice, his bloodshot eyes flickering behind his protective goggles. "It's modified using your Huakang Medical's nanorobots. The woven skin can withstand seven times the speed of sound." The moment he lifted the dust cover, the wing skin being weaved by sixteen sets of robotic arms glowed with the phosphorescence of a school of deep-sea fish.
The searchlights on the workshop ceiling suddenly blazed, and the roar of the test bench pierced the soundproof walls. The fourth prototype, undergoing final assembly, suddenly deployed its flaps, its titanium alloy actuators gleaming with a faint blue luster, like a giant prehistoric bird spreading its wings.
Xiao Zhen watched Zhenbei walk quickly towards the flight control system that was being tested, his young back stretched straight under his overalls.
"The airworthiness certificate isn't a technical issue." At the luncheon, Xiao Zhen cut into a medium-rare steak with a silver knife, blood seeping into the dark veins of the bone china plate. "The White House approved the import license for Pfizer's oral COVID-19 medication yesterday."
Zhenbei paused his fork on the truffle mashed potatoes. He recalled how the keys to the Boeing Asia Pacific president's private jet had accidentally fallen at his feet in the rooftop bar of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Hong Kong last week. The gold-plated 787 keychain was clearly engraved with the personal number of a senator's aide.
"Huakang's mRNA vaccine Phase III data will be released next week." Zhenbei displayed a cold chain logistics map on his tablet, showing deep blue shipping routes forming a network across the South China Sea. "Indonesia Airlines just placed an additional order for 20 aircraft, with the condition that they provide priority vaccine supply."
As dusk fell, father and son stood beneath the starry sky in the domed cabin. One hundred thousand micro-LEDs simulated the spiral arms of the Milky Way, and Zhenbei's custom watch rippled beneath the faint blue starlight. "Paris Air Show invitation," he projected the holographic invitation onto the window, where the shimmering waves of the Seine and the neon lights of Pudong merged in a digital river. "But Airbus requires us to share the source code for the fly-by-wire system."
Xiao Zhen's fingers traced the honeycomb structure of the cabin wall panels, the carbon fiber texture leaving a subtle burning sensation on his fingertips. He recalled the 787 assembly line he had seen at the Everett factory twenty years ago, when the Boeing engineers' blue scarves were still stained with the proud smell of engine oil.
"Tell the Europeans we're planning the maiden flight of a twin-engine wide-body aircraft at the Zhuhai Air Show." As the flame of his windproof lighter shot up, Xiao Zhen saw the light dancing in his son's eyes. "Have Osa prepare the airworthiness agreements with the five Southeast Asian countries and trade vaccines for airspace."
The red glow of the nighttime navigation lights filled the cabin as Zhenbei's custom-made leather shoes stepped onto the automatic gangway again. Behind him, ground crew spray-painted the prototype with a new registration number: B-0019. This number, the date of his last whip-torn service, now shone brightly in the fragrant scent of polyurethane paint.
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