Chapter 470 Nianhua's Voice

"Director He, the TV station wants Nianhua to work in the studio. What do you think...?"

Old Sun stood beside the control panel, speaking haltingly, clutching an invitation in his hand but not handing it over directly. He Yuzhu stared at the telemetry data on the large screen, not turning his head.

"I'm not going."

"They said we could record at night, it wouldn't be a problem—"

"I'm not going."

Old Sun stuffed the invitation back into his pocket, turned and took a couple of steps, then turned back again. "What about the reporters? Seven or eight have already called."

"I'll turn them all away. If anyone wants to interview Nianhua, tell them to come to me."

Old Sun nodded and strode out of the control center. His footsteps echoed down the corridor, fading into the distance.

He Yuzhu picked up the phone, intending to contact the Kunlun, but then put it down. Tan Wei had just reported that everything was normal, and he didn't want to bother them with his own emotions.

Lin Jianguo, sitting in the back row, glanced at He Yuzhu furtively before lowering his head to continue typing. Qian Zhiyuan paused for a moment while flipping through his notebook, then continued.

The only sounds in the control center were the operation of the equipment.

The television was on, but the volume was turned down so low it was almost inaudible. The evening news had finished, and they were starting that special program. The presenter sat at a mahogany table, a stack of envelopes in front of him.

He Yuzhu did not turn his head to look.

The host picked up the first letter.

The second letter.

The third letter.

"This is a letter written by a sixteen-year-old boy to his father."

He Yuzhu's finger stopped on the control panel.

"Dad, the day the Kunlun took off, I watched it disappear into the clouds from the stands. Mom said it would fly to the stars. I want to drive an even faster ship someday, flying to places farther than the stars."

Lin Jianguo stopped typing and stared at the screen. Qian Zhiyuan looked up, pen still between his fingers. Ma Yuejin stood up from the corner and stubbed out his cigarette.

"Dad, you never saw a spaceship when you were a child, but now you've built one. I never saw a faster ship when I was a child, but I will build one someday."

He Yuzhu stood up and walked to the television. His back was to everyone, his shoulders motionless. On screen, the host finished reading the letter and put the envelope down. The boy's name was uttered clearly and calmly by the host.

He stood there for a few seconds. Then he reached out and turned off the TV.

When he turned around, his voice was half a octave lower.

"Kunlun, report on cabin status."

Tan Wei's voice came through the quantum communication, tinged with a hint of doubt—"I just reported this, why are you asking again?"

"Control center, everything is normal on the Kunlun. Dr. Sun gave Wang Hao psychological counseling, and his sleep has improved. Zhao Mingyuan is analyzing cell data."

"it is good."

He Yuzhu put down the microphone and sat back down in his chair. He neither watched TV nor spoke again.

Lin Jianguo lowered his head and continued typing. Qian Zhiyuan opened his laptop. Ma Yuejin squatted back in the corner, holding the extinguished cigarette in his mouth without lighting it.

The control center returned to calm.

Qin Huairu sat on the living room sofa with the TV on. He Nianhua was doing her homework, her pen scratching on the paper.

When the host read the third letter, Qin Huairu glanced at He Nianhua. He didn't look up, but his ears turned red.

"Nianhua, your letter."

"Um."

"You read it very well."

"Um."

Qin Huairu stood up and walked to his side. He Nianhua's notebook contained a sketch of a spaceship, longer than the Kunlun, with two additional ring structures at the stern.

"Weren't you doing your homework?"

He Nianhua turned to a blank page in her notebook. "I'm done."

Qin Huairu did not expose him.

The phone rang. He Yushui's voice boomed from the receiver: "Sister-in-law! I heard Nianhua's letter! Nianhua is amazing!"

Chen Xinghai was crying in the background, and He Yushui was comforting him while talking to him.

"Don't praise him, he'll get embarrassed."

"Did you see that, brother?"

"I saw it. He called back to say he saw it."

"What did you say, brother?"

"I just said, 'I saw it.'"

He Yushui laughed on the other end of the phone. "My brother rarely praises people. Saying 'I saw it' is already a compliment."

After hanging up the phone, Qin Huairu went to the kitchen to turn off the stove. Porridge was bubbling away in the pot. She stirred it with a spoon and then put the lid on.

In the living room, He Nianhua had already put the notebook into her schoolbag and stood up.

"Mom, I'm going to bed."

"Wait a minute." Qin Huairu poked her head out from the kitchen. "The TV station wanted to interview you, but your dad turned it down for you. Do you want to go?"

He Nianhua stood at the bedroom door, his back to her. "I don't want to. I'm not some extraordinary person."

Do you think you'll be extraordinary in the future?

He Nianhua turned around. The blush on her face had faded, and her eyes were bright. "Yes."

Qin Huairu didn't laugh. "Then finish your homework first."

He Nianhua pushed open the door and entered the bedroom. The door wasn't closed properly.

Qin Huairu walked over and peeked through the crack in the door. He Nianhua sat on the edge of the bed, took out the notebook from his schoolbag, flipped to the page with the sketch, stared at it for a while, then turned to the next page and started drawing again.

She didn't disturb him and turned back to the living room.

The phone rang again. She picked it up.

"Qin Huairu? I'm a reporter from the China Youth Daily. We'd like to interview He Nianhua. Could we schedule a time?"

Qin Huairu tightened her grip on the receiver. "The child is still young. It's not convenient."

"We won't take up too much time—"

"It's inconvenient." She hung up the phone.

The phone rang again. The same number. She didn't answer.

When it rang for the third time, she put the receiver aside and didn't pick it up again.

In the control center, He Yuzhu glanced at the clock on the wall. 8:40 PM. He stood up and put on his military overcoat.

"Lin Jianguo, you keep an eye on things. I'm going out for a bit."

"Dean He, the materials for the Yanhuang II project approval meeting are all on your desk tomorrow morning."

"I know."

He walked out of the control center, and the motion-activated lights in the corridor turned on. As he reached the main entrance, Yang Xiaobing walked towards him, the scars on his face appearing dark red under the lights.

"Director He, a reporter has sneaked into the launch site."

He Yuzhu stopped in his tracks. "Where is he?"

"He was detained in the guardhouse. He said he was from the China Youth Daily and wanted to interview Nianhua. He had sneaked in from the train station by following Lao Sun's car."

He Yuzhu entered the guardhouse. A young man wearing glasses sat in a chair, a camera hanging around his neck, a press pass clutched in his hand, his face pale.

"Leave the camera. Expose the film. Send the person away."

"Director He, I just—"

"You do not have permission to conduct interviews. This is a military restricted area. We will not pursue this matter since it is your first offense. If you come again, you will be prosecuted for espionage."

Yang Xiaobing took the camera from the reporter and retrieved the film. The reporter opened his mouth but didn't dare speak, stood up with the empty camera, and was taken away by the guards.

He Yuzhu stood in the guardhouse, watching the reporter's figure disappear into the night. Yang Xiaobing stood beside him, not leaving.

"Director He, Nianhua's cotton-padded coat is still in the guard's locker; it's the one Yu Li gave her. Would you like to take it with you?"

He Yuzhu glanced at the cabinet. "Leave it for now."

He walked out of the guardhouse and got into the old jeep. He started the engine, and the headlights illuminated the dirt road ahead. He didn't step on the gas immediately; instead, he took out the crumpled invitation from his pocket, unfolded it, looked at it, and then crumpled it up again.

A system notification flashed through his mind. He didn't open it, but he caught a glimpse of the message: "Yanhuang II Progress 5%".

He threw the crumpled paper on the passenger seat and stepped on the gas.

The car drove out of the base.

In the rearview mirror, the lights of the launch site grew farther and farther away.

He gripped the steering wheel with one hand, and with the other, he retrieved the project proposal for Yanhuang II from the system space, glancing at it for a few seconds. Five percent progress. Five years, perhaps longer.

It might be just the right amount of time before Nianhua is old enough to pilot a spaceship.