Chapter Seventy-Two: The Airshow (Part One)

Chapter Two arrives, marking the final update for today. Tomorrow, I’ll release three installments. I hope everyone will continue to support the story—if you have any votes, please shower them generously.

It was the early summer of 1883 in Paris, at the Bourget Airport, the venerable venue of the Paris Air Show. The exhibition opened amid the fervor of aviation enthusiasts and the presence of major players in the industry, witnessed by giants of aircraft manufacturing and airlines alike. The ‘French Patrol’ Aerobatic Team, as storied as the Air Show itself, was first to take the stage, their Alpha Jet trainers making a reappearance since their introduction in 1981. Unlike the previous occasion, when only seven aircraft performed, now there were nine.

Led by the commander’s aircraft, the eight others formed various formations: eight-plane cross, chevron, triangle, T-shape, and more. The French, ever whimsical, infused their cultural elegance into the choreography, creating a unique beauty with their trainer jets. Unlike the spectacle offered by the American and Russian teams who flaunted combat aircraft, the French Patrol was unconcerned with raw power. They devoted themselves to a ballet-like grace and the agile finesse reminiscent of French fencing.

As the French team landed, other European aerobatic teams took their turns—the British Red Arrows, the Italian Tricolore Arrows—each displaying their own distinctive artistry. Yet, without the American and Russian combat teams, the show lacked a certain martial atmosphere.

As the aerobatic teams soared overhead, waves of cheers swept across the grounds, the flashes of magnesium bulbs so intense they could blind even titanium-eyed dogs. Yang Hui and his companions stood in the corner, gazing upwards in awe at the opening spectacle.

"Truly, the old powers are formidable—even their trainers look far superior to ours," sighed the institute director.

Yang Hui, however, disagreed. These trainers were impressive now, but only for the moment. Hongdu was already advancing their K8 research; once it debuted, the European trainers would be trounced. But it was too soon to discuss the K8, so Yang Hui offered a different perspective.

"Director, I don’t quite agree. Our pilot training methods differ from Europe’s, so naturally our trainers do too. As long as a plane fulfills its mission, it’s a good plane. Take our base’s Jianjiao-7—it could easily outclass this lot."

The director mused, "You have a point; circumstances do differ, so variation is justified."

They continued to watch the aerial displays. From the distance came a distinctive Dassault aircraft, tailless delta wing, skimming low over the field. Yang Hui immediately recognized it.

"Mirage 2000—finally, a real combat aircraft has arrived."

The Mirage 2000 had only recently entered production, its presence at the show signaling France’s intent to export. With its limited national capacity, France could not afford to equip its forces with many such jets, so their fighters were almost always open for export. Whether selling to the mainland or later to Taiwan—both risky ventures—France never shied away. Even when facing the mainland's objections, they dared to supply Taiwan, revealing just how dependent their military industry was on foreign markets.

Yang Yue, who worked at a certain institute, had caught wind of domestic aircraft procurement. Hearing Yang Hui’s identification, she continued, "Mirage 2000? Is that the Dassault jet currently under consideration at home?"

"Exactly. But I doubt we’ll make the purchase—the aircraft is in high demand, and the French will certainly ask for an exorbitant price. Where would the country find so much foreign currency?"

They watched the Mirage 2000’s display. The aircraft’s power was its weakness; the M53, after all, was only a single-rotor engine—no matter how advanced, it had its limitations. The heart problem showed even in flight: though the demonstration plane carried no payload and was not fully fueled, its climb was labored, and its acceleration unimpressive.

Yet its instantaneous turn rate was remarkable—thirty degrees per second, a crucial metric for modern air combat. A swift turn meant the nose could point at the enemy faster, enabling rapid radar lock and missile guidance.

A newly minted aircraft would not remain on display for public viewing. Once the performance was over, the Mirage 2000 swiftly exited the airspace.

The crowd erupted into cheers, some regretting their absorption had cost them the chance to snap a photo. Yang Hui watched as one furious fellow smashed his camera, tripod and all, to the ground; the sound of it made Yang Hui wince.

Without an official invitation, Yang Hui’s group had no access to the main exhibition halls. Instead, they had to bring out their own model aircraft. The designated model flying area was already teeming with elderly pilots, struggling along with their propeller planes.

Even so, the propeller model area attracted plenty of onlookers. The main exhibition was overcrowded, and one might not even catch a glimpse of anything worthwhile. Here, up-close model flights offered a more approachable spectacle, the models themselves charming and accessible.

Seeing the bustling crowd at the model flying zone, all six let out a sigh of relief. Clearly, model aviation was a beloved sport, its popularity evident in the throngs gathered. But the true star of this Air Show would not be the propeller “old ladies”—the epoch-making jet-powered model would surely be the highlight.

With that in mind, the six quickened their pace toward their lodgings to prepare their model for transport.

The truck was already parked and waiting. They opened the doors and began loading the model and its auxiliary equipment, as well as a tent intended to add an air of mystery. When the model arrived at the site, it would need brief tuning and refueling, shielded from prying eyes inside the tent.

The journey from their lodgings to the model area was only a few minutes by car. For convenience, the organizers had opened a special lane for model transport vehicles. Even so, the lane was a bit tight for their truck, but the driver skillfully maneuvered through and parked beside the designated stand.

The arrival of the large truck drew immediate attention: what sort of monster needed a truck for transport? Had some model enthusiast run out of money and sold off his pickup, resorting to trucking his aircraft? It seemed oddly unconventional.

Yang Hui and his companions came around to the back, opened the doors, and set up the tent behind the truck.

When the crowd saw a group of East Asians, they understood: so it was these people, after all. Surely, they thought, the noble Europeans would never stoop to trucking their models—it was simply too undignified.

Once the tent was erected, linking the truck’s tailgate to its sole open entrance, it was time to move the model. Yang Hui, the director, Xie Lianfa, and a young man brought by old Mr. Wu carefully carried the model into the tent, all behind closed doors, hidden from view.

Just as Yang Hui had predicted, their secrecy drew intense curiosity. Even the other model enthusiasts couldn’t resist glancing over, eager to see what the fuss was about. But the black tent shielded all from sight.

"What are those yellow-skinned fellows up to—are they here just to amuse me?" sneered a tall white spectator.

His words carried an obvious hint of racism. Someone nearby retorted, "Let’s be fair—French citizens are gentlemen. Please show respect; we are merely spectators."

Had any of Yang Hui’s party been present, they would have recognized the speaker as the proprietor of their lodgings.

Inside the tent, the model was being tuned, but the ground control system required open space to function properly. The radio control system needed to operate outdoors for maximum effectiveness.

Yang Yue, the director, and Xie Lianfa installed the control system. When they brought out the box containing the ground control unit, it replaced the tent as the new center of attention.

The director produced a tripod from the wooden crate, set it to human height, and plunged its base deep into the soil, ensuring stability during operation.

Several model enthusiasts who had already finished their displays gathered to inspect the setup. Soon, they watched as the elegant woman retrieved other components and attached them to the frame—these, they realized, were control sticks and pedals.

"You’re recreating a cockpit environment—remarkable! You’re taking model aviation to extraordinary heights."

Yang Yue only smiled, saying little, as she continued installing the crucial transmitter and receiver. The bulky unit was troublesome, but she assembled it with practiced ease, then hooked up the backup power supply for a system check.

But as soon as she activated the system, every model on site began to wobble uncontrollably, no longer responding to their ground controls.

"Heavens—what’s happening? Massive interference!"

Realizing her mistake, Yang Yue promptly shut down the system.