Chapter Forty-Three: The Carpentry Team

When Yang Yue was at work, she certainly wouldn't show Yang Hui a pleasant face. Now, she was so busy she wished she could split herself in two. Seeing Yang Hui's mocking expression, there was no way she could be in a good mood.

“Yang Hui, you finally made it. Now, get the aircraft’s exterior done as soon as possible, by whatever means you like.” With that, she buried herself in her own tasks, not sparing a single extra word.

Full of doubts, Yang Hui wondered if he’d made a mistake. He’d lured a perfectly good girl into engineering, and now she seemed to have changed completely. The thought left him with a sense of self-inflicted regret.

Despite a thousand complaints and questions, it was still work hours. Since he’d been assigned a task, he had to get on with it; everything else could wait. A glance around the office showed it packed with people, making it impossible to work there. He could only return to his own office, to toil and struggle alongside his team of young men.

“All right, then. I’ll go back to my office and work there—there are too many people here. I’ll have results for you within a week.”

Yang Yue didn’t even bother with a reply, just nodded quickly without lifting her head.

Sitting at his own desk, Yang Hui spread out the Tornado fighter’s exterior data that he’d gotten from Yang Yue, picking up a few photos showing different angles. The Tornado’s outward design was, to be honest, rather conventional. When it was developed, each country involved had different priorities. Just looking at the aircraft the Tornado was meant to replace—Europe’s F-4s, F-104s, Vulcan bombers, Canberra bombers, and Intruder attack aircraft—spoke volumes about its capabilities.

Because it had to replace aircraft with such varied functions, the Tornado ended up with a rather standard appearance. To meet the requirements of both attack and bomber roles, it used a high-mounted wing. To reconcile the conflicting needs for low-altitude performance (for attack aircraft) and high-altitude performance (for bombers and interceptors), it adopted a variable-sweep wing design. In effect, the Tornado was a triple-threat: interceptor, attacker, and bomber, but notably lacked a dedicated air combat role. The plane was fairly large yet only had a single vertical stabilizer—a big one, to be sure, but at least they didn’t have to bother with twin tails.

Another special design feature of the Tornado was the thrust-reverser for rapid landings. But that was a matter for the propulsion system; for a model aircraft, thrust reversal was more or less useless, so he would skip it entirely—not only did it look awkward, it was troublesome to build.

All in all, the Tornado’s exterior was quite simple, with little in the way of blended wing-body design. That made Yang Hui’s task easier: a model aircraft needed no practical function, just a rough likeness that could fly. With that, there were few components. In just three days, he’d finished the data, drawn up the main component blueprints, three-view diagrams, and finally, the assembly drawing.

Now, it was time for a killer solution. In 1983, domestic computer-aided design was nonexistent, let alone 3D modeling—those were mere fantasies. Without a physical model, it was hard to give people a direct impression. So what to do? Resort to old-fashioned methods, of course. What were those?

The best method for presentations was the one used during the Tenth Project years ago. The project had sent requests for proposals to the two main domestic research institutes, curiously excluding Institute 0611.

But as fate would have it, a designer from 0611 ended up at the capital for the project review. Learning of this, he remembered his own single-engine enhanced design from Project Nine and decided to present it as a canard-delta configuration for a new fighter.

After Project Nine’s crushing defeat, the institute had no new projects. Now was the time to seize a chance. He took his design along. The other two institutes, seeing a colleague from 0611, were quite pleased—after all, the project didn’t concern them this time. They paid little attention.

But they never expected that after presenting their own designs, the Air Force officials found them lacking. To put it kindly, the proposals were “making progress in small steps”; to be blunt, they were old wine in new bottles, with nothing advanced about them.

Sensing an opportunity, the 0611 designer spoke up, “Sir, actually, we’ve always kept the nation’s security in mind and kept up with the times. We came to this review because we’ve long had a proposal of our own. Would you like to hear it?”

The leader, seeing the drive in 0611’s team, thought, “Why not? None of these proposals are convincing anyway.” So he agreed to listen.

The 0611 designer, having seen the world abroad, now poured out everything he’d learned about advanced foreign technologies, attaching it all to his new aircraft. He knew the proposal was ahead of its time but pressed on regardless. After the review, he reported back to his institute and returned to his own project, leaving the rest for the higher-ups to hash out.

The Air Force officials grew more and more excited as they listened—what an extraordinary aircraft from this out-of-the-way institute! This could be a breakthrough.

But talk alone wasn’t enough—a visual was needed. That’s when the real trump card appeared. In the midst of his eloquent speech, the designer remembered he had a model of the new plane on film. Without hesitation, he loaded up the projector, placed the film model, and—lo and behold!—the outline was projected onto the screen, clear as day, almost like a holographic 3D image.

The officials were astonished. What a beautiful project! The seminar could not continue; orders went out to all institutes to keep refining their designs and reconvene for further study. Thanks to this, 0611 secured a coveted ticket to the next round. The acrylic model projection had been a resounding success for the presentation.

If there were methods suitable for reports and demonstrations, there were also those ideal for engineering tests. Here, the story circles back to the aircraft factory in the basin. One key reason why Factory 0132 had mastered the J-7 so well was that it alone, among all the nation’s design bureaus and factories, maintained a special organization: the carpentry team.

Yes, the carpentry team. In an age dominated by metal aircraft, this was an anomaly—but its very existence provided engineers with tangible, hands-on feedback.

At this point, the carpentry team was still a closely guarded secret of 0132, but now Yang Hui had no qualms about borrowing the idea. He, too, would use a carpentry team, starting with a wooden model of the Tornado. With a model, everything would be easier.

Since he’d decided on a wooden model, he needed to find an excellent carpenter—not an easy task. Carpentry was a traditional craft, handed down from master to apprentice, focused on practice rather than theory. That made it hard to find a carpenter who could read engineering blueprints; without systematic training, how could they grasp all the symbols and notations? It was a real headache.

This problem was best left to the director—he’d at least stand a better chance than Yang Hui alone.

“That’s a tough one,” the director said. “Finding a carpenter who can read engineering drawings is difficult, but if you think differently, it gets easier. What you need is a machinist from a factory who also knows woodworking.” Hearing Yang Hui’s plan for a wooden model, the director wasn’t sure if it would work but did his best to help, finally suggesting that Yang Hui look for a machinist with carpentry skills.

With that solution in hand, Yang Hui immediately thought of someone: Zhong Jianshe, currently working in the propulsion team. Not that he wanted Zhong Jianshe himself to do the modeling, but to help find the right person, since Zhong was the child of factory workers and surely knew plenty of skilled hands.

“Hey, team leader, what’s up?” Zhong Jianshe put down his work when Yang Hui approached.

“I’ll just call you Jianshe, since we’re on the same project team. Listen, do you know any machinists who are good at carpentry?”

It was the right question to the right person. Zhong immediately thought of someone.

“Sure. My dad was a carpenter before joining the factory. Anytime someone at the factory needs furniture, they come to him. The stuff he makes is solid.”

So after searching high and low, Yang Hui found the person he needed right under his nose. He explained his idea for a carpentry team to Zhong Jianshe, finally adding, “If this approach proves reliable, the institute might set up a permanent team, and your dad, with all his experience, could have a comfortable job here.”

With such a prospect, how could Zhong Jianshe refuse? Of course he’d do all he could to get his father an easier job.

“No problem! My parents are coming to visit me tomorrow anyway. My mom often helps my dad with his work; they should be just what you need.”

“Great, it’s settled. Sorry to put them to work when they’re just coming to see you.”

But this was an opportunity—nothing else mattered.

“No worries at all. I’ll call them right away.”