Chapter Fifteen: What Are You to Red Lotus?
After the power system test concluded, it was nearly eleven in the morning. Shen Jiang slept soundly through to when Honglian returned to Workshop 110, still unconscious. It was Shang Lu who carried her out, limbs and equipment heavy as lead.
The base was clearly accustomed to this; they had wheeled the stretcher bed all the way to the massive machinery boarding gangway. Shang Lu placed his sister on it, and a group of people immediately whisked her away.
Shang Lu fetched a dry towel to wipe himself down, then put back on the clothes left at the worksite. The zero-gravity cushioning fluid inside the cockpit was of unknown composition, slightly more viscous than water. Floating in it offered greater buoyancy. Shang Lu tasted a bit—tasteless and likely non-toxic.
With testing done, Shang Lu had little to do for now. He was only on his third day at the post, still in probation. For three days, he had been wandering, eating and drinking, wearing a white hat as a mere passerby. Not officially an engineer, without a fixed position or rank, and with no assignments from Old Ji, he found himself idle. Watching others busy about, Shang Lu felt like a hindrance in the workshop and slipped out.
He exited through the small passage by the vertical transfer gate and was greeted by a refreshing green. The tall peaks of Spring Ridge stood against the clear sky. The breeze carried scents of grass and osmanthus. Cicadas buzzed restlessly in the air. Nearby, young soldiers stood guard at the gate; in the distance, trucks were parked roadside. A row of people sat on the curbside, enjoying the shade. Shang Lu found a patch of grass under a tree, lay down, propping his head on his crossed arms, pulling his helmet down to partially shield his face.
He still wasn’t sure if choosing 151 Base had been the right decision. Life here still resembled a furry puppy, not yet showing its fangs. There was still room to retreat. The dispatch support system gave him the option to reconsider. As long as the one-week probation wasn’t over, Shang Lu could pack up and leave—being from the automation institute, he wasn’t worried about finding another place. There were plenty of research units in the rear desperately needing people. But that didn’t necessarily mean going elsewhere was better.
He thought that if not for that catastrophic red line, many would enjoy life here.
Here was a clear blue sky, soft grass, mountains covered in osmanthus, and gentle, warm breezes. Anyone would believe the fragrance of osmanthus on the wind was the smile of fate itself, even if it greeted a life resigned to idleness and dullness.
Why leave?
Shang Lu recalled the girl sleeping in the pale blue fluid—the cushioning liquid filtered out other colors, so the sky inside the cockpit was an omnipresent blue. Against such a backdrop, she seemed to slumber in a vast sapphire sea. She slept so sweetly, making it hard to tell if she was Honglian’s pilot or a child cradled in her embrace.
What was she dreaming of? Her lips curved in a slight smile.
There was absolutely no need to leave.
Stay here.
Stay here.
Stay here.
Stay here.
Before the apocalyptic fireworks ignited to destroy the world, surely he still wanted to sink into that endless blue deep, to catch one last glimpse of that serene smile.
Suddenly, something wet brushed against his fingers. Shang Lu opened his eyes and got up, finding Ji Old Man’s Chinese rural dog.
“Commander Huang!” Shang Lu grabbed its front paws, pulling it into his arms. “Where have you been?”
The golden-haired puppy nuzzled against him. At the base command, Ji’s dog ranked just below the chief of staff because it was the only one bold enough to nip at the chief’s trouser legs.
“Commander Huang—” Shang Lu rubbed its head vigorously. “We’re going to be together a long time now. What do you want to eat? Do you want to eat shit?”
Commander Huang blinked its innocent black eyes, ears perked.
“Eat?”
“Or not?”
Suddenly, his phone vibrated in his pocket.
Shang Lu answered.
It was Ji Old Man.
“Kid, had enough fun? Come to Meeting Room 201. We need to assign you a post.”
·
·
·
The post assignment felt like an interview. Several political officers sat across the table from him, with paper and pens laid out. They smiled as they engaged Shang Lu in a lengthy conversation, touching on family, education, personal interests, choice of college major, and work feelings. Only Ji Old Man sat on the side, impatiently urging them to hurry up, complaining about the pointless chatter. Finally, Ji waved his hand and assigned Shang Lu to the heavy machinery core operation maintenance team in Workshop 110, granting him a technical level of eleven, with treatment equivalent to a deputy battalion officer.
Ji said that great ministers arise from local posts; the operation core was the most critical system of the massive machinery. Shang Lu was to master that first, laying the foundation for future leadership.
Shang Lu felt dizzy. Under Ji Old Man’s persuasive words, he confirmed his intention to stay early, signed the agreement, and ended probation prematurely. Ji mentioned a reward policy for early probation termination—an extra year added to his work experience.
Looking back, it all seemed like nonsense. How had he believed such tall tales?
That afternoon at four-thirty, Shang Lu reported to the operation core office.
The door bore the number 1102, and a weathered plaque read “Operation Core Office.”
Shang Lu took a deep breath, feeling nervous, and knocked.
“Come in!” a voice called from inside.
He turned the handle, the door clicked open, and with a slight push, he stepped in.
The office was spacious and bright, with white marble floors and four fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling. Eight desks were arranged in pairs, piled with computers, books, telephones, and various sundries. Along the opposite wall, a row of small observation windows overlooked the cranes and cables in Workshop 110. This office was next to the massive machinery cavern, roughly at the eleventh floor.
Four people sat inside—three men and one woman. The moment Shang Lu opened the door, they burst into applause.
The sudden clapping baffled him. He instinctively thought he had entered the wrong room.
This scene looked like a leader’s inspection. Was this a welcome for him?
“I… I’m Shang Lu. I was just assigned here today, to the operation core maintenance office. I came to report,” he said, glancing at the plaque to confirm he hadn’t made a mistake.
All four rose in unison and lined up neatly before him. The tallest man stood at the front, the petite girl at the end.
The show of formality startled Shang Lu.
“May I ask what’s going on here?”
They said nothing but quickly arranged themselves into formation with small steps. The others hid behind the tall man at the front. Then they began to twist their bodies, circling their upper torsos up, down, left, right—forming a rhythmic human wave from front to back.
“I!” The tall man covered his face with his hand and slowly pulled it down, revealing sharp eyes. “Wang Xiangbing! Senior Engineer of the 151 Base Massive Machinery Operation Core Office, the base’s top electromechanical expert, a super electrician with twenty years’ experience who can sense high voltage with a touch, Honglian’s great uncle! Combat power 18,000!”
He spun with the grace of a ballet dancer with twenty years’ experience, then struck a pose, propping his face with one hand, motionless like a statue.
The second stepped forward—a young man with glasses, about Shang Lu’s age. He spread his arms wide like a soaring roc.
“I, Li Wenxuan! Intermediate Engineer of the 151 Base Massive Machinery Operation Core Office, the last traditional engineering worker of the human world, future founding member of the world’s number one pig farming group, Honglian’s cousin! Combat power 13,000!”
Next was a stocky, short young man with dark skin and bulging biceps.
“I, Zhang Zhong! Intermediate Engineer of the 151 Base Massive Machinery Operation Core Office, Pritzker Prize nominee, holder of a Level 2 Construction Engineer certificate, king of the construction site, Honglian’s cousin! Combat power 8,000!”
The last was a petite young woman with short black hair.
“I, Bai Shu! Intermediate Engineer of the 151 Base Massive Machinery Operation Core Office, fluent in Henan, Northeastern, and Chongqing dialects, a preparatory translator for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Honglian’s cousin! Combat power 8,000!”
This strange quartet stood in four different poses and shouted in unison:
“We are the 151 Base Idle Fish Special Forces! What’s your relation to Honglian?”
Shang Lu’s mind went blank.
“I… I’m Honglian’s grandfather.”