Chapter 206 The Mentor's Instructions

The night was deep.

The lights in the ICU had been dimmed, leaving only a small lamp at the head of the bed. A dim yellow halo enveloped the sickbed. The monitoring equipment ticked rhythmically, like some ancient timer.

Lin Mo sat by the bed, holding Wang Zhenguo's hand.

That hand was very thin, with loose skin, but there was still warmth in the palm. Lin Mo held it just like that, motionless, as if trying to transfer his own temperature over.

Wang Zhenguo had his eyes closed and his breathing was steady, as if he were asleep.

Lin Mo thought he was asleep.

But after a long time, Wang Zhenguo suddenly spoke:

"Lin Mo, you haven't left yet?"

Lin Mo shook his head. "I'm not leaving. I'll stay with you."

Wang Zhenguo opened his eyes and turned his head to look at him. Under the dim yellow light, this student's face was somewhat blurred, but he could see those eyes—clear, firm, and hiding many things.

"You've been tired all day, go back and sleep," Wang Zhenguo said.

Lin Mo shook his head. "I'm not tired."

Wang Zhenguo smiled, a very light smile. "You, you've been stubborn since you were a child."

Lin Mo didn't speak.

Wang Zhenguo looked at the ceiling, was silent for a while, and then suddenly said:

"Lin Mo, let me tell you a story."

Lin Mo nodded.

"That was 1965." Wang Zhenguo's voice was very soft, as if he were talking to himself. "I was twenty-five years old, had just returned from studying in the Soviet Union, and was assigned to the Fifth Academy to work on rockets."

Lin Mo listened quietly.

"Back then I was young and full of energy. I soaked in the laboratory every day, wishing I could sleep there. We were working on Liquid Rocket Engines; the thrust wasn't big, but at that time it was already the most advanced in the country."

He paused, his gaze becoming somewhat distant:

"Once, we calculated that if we increased the combustion chamber pressure of the engine by five atmospheres, the thrust could increase by twenty percent. Five atmospheres doesn't count for much today, but back then it was a huge problem. The materials weren't good enough, the craftsmanship wasn't good enough; every time we tried, it exploded. Every single time."

Lin Mo held his hand and did not interrupt.

"It exploded eight times," Wang Zhenguo continued. "On the ninth time, it finally succeeded. That night, several of us squatted by the test stand, looking at the spurting flames, as happy as children."

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, as if he had returned to that night.

"What happened later?" Lin Mo asked.

Wang Zhenguo's smile slowly faded:

"Later, the project was cancelled."

Lin Mo was silent.

"The country had no money," Wang Zhenguo said. "In those years, everything was in short supply. Our project, although there was a technological breakthrough, was still far from practical use. The higher-ups did the math, felt they couldn't afford to invest, so it was stopped."

He looked at the ceiling, his gaze somewhat empty:

"I remember the last test run was the winter of 1966. Beijing was particularly cold. We stood outside the test stand, watching the flames go out, and no one spoke. Later everyone dispersed, and I stood there alone for a long time."

Lin Mo's nose felt a bit prickly.

Wang Zhenguo turned his head and looked at him:

"Lin Mo, do you know what I was thinking then?"

Lin Mo shook his head.

Wang Zhenguo said, "I thought, in this lifetime, I'm afraid I won't see a Chinese person go into space."

The ward was quiet for a long time.

The ticking of the monitoring equipment, one by one, was like the footsteps of time.

Wang Zhenguo continued:

"Later, I switched fields to work on Nuclear Fusion. Someone asked me why I didn't continue with aerospace. I said aerospace needs money, which the country didn't have; Nuclear Fusion also needs money, but at least there's a bit of hope. Moreover, once Nuclear Fusion is successful, energy will be cheap, and then we can do aerospace."

He smiled, a very complex smile:

"Me, I've only done two things in this life—first aerospace, then Nuclear Fusion. When I was doing aerospace, I thought that with Nuclear Fusion we could do aerospace; when I was doing Nuclear Fusion, I thought that once Nuclear Fusion was successful, we could do aerospace. Circling around, I've been circling for decades."

Lin Mo said softly, "Teacher, you didn't circle in vain."

Wang Zhenguo nodded. "Right. Not in vain. The things I couldn't finish, you've accomplished."

He looked at Lin Mo, his gaze full of gratification:

"Room-Temperature Superconductivity, you did it. Lithium-Sulfur Battery, you did it. Lithium Extraction from Seawater, you did it. Nuclear Fusion, you also did it. Lin Mo, do you know how I feel every time I hear about your successes?"

Lin Mo shook his head.

Wang Zhenguo said, "It's as if I succeeded myself."

His voice trembled slightly:

"In this life, I have many regrets. Projects cancelled, lack of funding, not enough time—but these regrets have all been made up for in you."

Lin Mo's eyes turned red.

Wang Zhenguo squeezed his hand hard:

"But Lin Mo, I still have one regret."

Lin Mo looked at him.

Wang Zhenguo's gaze became somewhat distant:

"I haven't been able to see a Chinese person go into space with my own eyes."

He paused and continued:

"In 1965, I stood in front of the test stand, thinking I probably wouldn't see it in this lifetime. Now, I'm over eighty, and I still haven't seen it. But I can see you all—I can see you working on Carbon Nanotubess, the space elevator, things I didn't even dare to think about when I was young."

He looked at Lin Mo, his gaze full of expectation:

"Lin Mo, go and see it for me."

Lin Mo's tears finally fell.

Wang Zhenguo raised his other hand and gently wiped his face:

"Don't cry. I am happy."

Lin Mo took a deep breath and held back his tears:

"Teacher, recover well. When you're better, I'll take you to see it."

Wang Zhenguo shook his head:

"Silly child, with this body of mine, I can't go to space. But you can."

He held Lin Mo's hand, saying word by word:

"You go. Go and see for me. See what the Earth looks like from space, see if there's a Chang'e on the moon, see if potatoes can be grown on Mars. See—how far we humans can go."

Lin Mo looked at him and nodded solemnly:

"Teacher, I promise you."

Wang Zhenguo smiled, very happily:

"Good, good. Then I can rest easy."

The night grew deeper.

Wang Zhenguo said he was tired and closed his eyes to rest. Lin Mo did not leave, still sitting by the bed, holding his hand.

He looked at his teacher's face—that face was full of wrinkles, marks carved by time. His lips were somewhat chapped, his hair was all white, even his eyebrows were white.

He remembered the scene when he first met Wang Zhenguo four years ago.

At that time, Wang Zhenguo was in high spirits and full of vigor. He pointed at the Tokamak drawings and said, "Kid, you want to do this?" He nodded, and Wang Zhenguo smiled, saying, "Good, I support you."

Four years.

Teacher had grown old.

But teacher's heart was still that heart—holding aerospace, holding Nuclear Fusion, holding the country, holding this group of students.

Lin Mo held his hand and said in his heart:

Teacher, please rest easy.

I will go.

To space.

To see it for you.

At four in the morning, Wang Zhenguo suddenly opened his eyes again.

"Lin Mo," he called out.

Lin Mo leaned in: "Teacher, I'm here."

Wang Zhenguo looked at him, his gaze clear:

"I just dreamed of you."

"What did you dream about me?"

Wang Zhenguo smiled: "I dreamed you were standing in a very high place, with the blue Earth below. You looked back at me and waved at me."

Lin Mo was stunned.

Wang Zhenguo said: "That place was space, right?"

Lin Mo nodded: "Yes."

Wang Zhenguo smiled like a child:

"That's good. Then I'll consider that I've seen it in advance."

He closed his eyes, and his breathing gradually became steady.

Lin Mo looked at his face and didn't move for a long time.

Outside the window, dawn was approaching.

At seven in the morning, the doctor came for rounds.

Lin Mo stood up and stepped aside. The doctor checked various indicators and nodded:

"The recovery is going well. Observe for two more days, and then he can be transferred to a general ward."

Lin Mo breathed a sigh of relief.

Wang Zhenguo waved at him: "Hear that? I'm not dying. You go back, don't let it delay your work."

Lin Mo nodded and walked to the bedside:

"Teacher, I'll come to see you again in a couple of days."

Wang Zhenguo waved his hand: "No need to keep running here. Work hard on your things. Remember, go to space and see."

Lin Mo nodded solemnly:

"I'll remember."

He turned and walked out of the ward.

At the door, he looked back once more.

Wang Zhenguo was lying on the bed and waved at him.

That movement was very light, very slow.

But Lin Mo knew that it was an entrustment.

An entrustment to be fulfilled with a lifetime.

Walking out of the hospital, the morning sun in Beijing was bright.

Lin Mo stood at the entrance and looked up at the sky.

The sky was very blue, with a few white clouds floating.

Further up was space.

The place his teacher wanted to go but couldn't.

The place he promised his teacher he would go and see for him.

He took a deep breath, took out his phone, and sent a message to Li Xiao:

"Teacher is fine. I'm coming back today."

Li Xiao replied instantly: "That's great! Be safe on the road!"

Lin Mo put away his phone and walked toward the parking lot.

Behind him, the hospital building stood quietly in the sunlight.

Behind a certain window on the twelfth floor, someone was watching his back as he slowly walked away.

That person was his teacher.

That person's dream was now on his shoulders.