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Right on time, the meeting began.
The representatives from the investment side took their seats in the front row. After a brief opening speech, the presentations commenced. Each project representative spoke in turn, and Ying Jing was second to last. Qi Yu paid close attention and said, “The design department is third.”
Truly the school’s favorite child.
After two rounds of presentations, Ying Jing understood the situation—those with real strength were placed at the front. The guy who had struck up a conversation with him earlier, Ying Jing had secretly looked up his company online—it seemed quite impressive.
Medical care, real estate, infrastructure—all familiar fields representing basic societal needs. Simple to get into, visible returns, and without much uncertainty or risk, these were what the investors favored.
These presenters were all seasoned veterans, eloquent and charismatic; the atmosphere in the room was lively and engaging.
This was human nature after all. At first, everyone felt confident, amplifying their strengths and taking pride in standing out. But once they truly stepped into this circle, they realized that while they might stand out, perhaps they weren’t the “cranes” among chickens.
Ying Jing felt a bit nervous.
What kind of people were these? They could talk—and talk so well!
When it came to the Aerospace Design Department, Ying Jing recognized the presenter—the president of the student council and the vice principal’s top aide, though he mentally corrected himself to “trusted confidant.” This guy had shown up in a Zhongshan suit from who-knows-where, black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, and began speaking: “Firstly, it is a great honor to be here with all the industry leaders. Secondly, I would like to thank my school for giving me this opportunity to present.”
Ying Jing broke out in goosebumps.
Undeniably, his preparation was thorough. In recent years, aerospace technology had rapidly developed and become widespread. Drones were being applied across various fields, and with strong government support, the technology was maturing, making the commercial prospects promising.
If one paid attention, they would notice that the investors in the front row listened carefully and attentively.
Ying Jing’s gaze drifted to the right.
Chu Ning sat upright, flipping through documents, likely looking up some information before glancing up at the speaker. Her profile was striking, the curve between her philtrum and lips subtle yet elegant.
Her lip color was beautiful.
The hum of voices on stage faded into a distant buzz as Ying Jing suddenly snapped back to reality, feeling an inexplicable panic over his momentary distraction.
“Are you nervous?” Qi Yu suddenly asked.
“Huh? Yeah, I am. No, not really,” Ying Jing stammered, sounding like a thief caught red-handed.
“...”
Soon, it was their turn.
Ying Jing was the main speaker, with Qi Yu providing support.
He tugged at the hem of his suit jacket, took a deep breath, and strode confidently onto the stage under the watchful eyes of the audience.
Chu Ning set down her project report, took a sip of water, and then looked at him.
At this moment, Ying Jing still appeared self-assured. Backed by a prestigious institution and youthful confidence, his courage surged forward with unbridled enthusiasm. Most importantly, he had complete faith in his project.
“Hello everyone, I’m a current student at C Aviation University. My name is Ying Jing. Thank you all for taking the time to listen to my design concept.”
No flattery or forced charm—his opening was simple, direct, and confident.
Chu Ning paused. YJ? Such an open name?
She flipped back to the cover of the project report. Oh, so this was Jing.
“Today, I will introduce the feasibility of virtual simulation technology for aviation engines,” the young man’s voice was clear and crisp, free of Beijing dialect’s erhua tones and unnecessary dramatic inflections. His diction was precise, and his words landed with clarity.
The slides changed one by one, each explanation more detailed and professional than the last.
As Ying Jing continued, his initial nervousness gave way to relaxation, and then to excitement. He spoke fluently, exuding the brash confidence of someone enthusiastically promoting their own work.
Until his passionate gaze caught Chu Ning’s reaction—
Chu Ning had initially listened with interest, but after three minutes, her expression became neutral. By five minutes, her focus had waned, and eventually, she closed their project report without even glancing at it.
It felt like a final verdict—one that wasn’t favorable.
Ying Jing felt as if he’d gone from boiling point to freezing cold in an instant.
Fortunately, he was nearing the end, so his emotional imbalance wouldn’t cause a major blunder. When he finished, polite applause filled the room for a few sparse seconds.
Ying Jing floated off the stage. Qi Yu whispered behind him, “You’re walking on the wrong side.”
“...”
His already restless heart grew even more agitated. He returned to his seat, only then realizing his back was drenched in sweat.
After all the project groups presented, they would receive the first round of responses within half an hour. In fact, immediately after the meeting ended, some investors began preliminary discussions with projects they were interested in. Within fifteen minutes, five companies were approached with smiles.
Ying Jing sat in his original seat, nervously clutching his suit pants.
“Thank you so much!!” A burst of youthful cheers came from nearby—it was the Aerospace Design group from their school.
Qi Yu said, “They’ve been selected.”
Ying Jing clung to hope: “We can still make it too, just wait a little longer, don’t worry!”
It sounded more like he was talking to himself.
Thirty minutes later, the venue was empty.
Qi Yu sighed and said to the motionless Ying Jing, “Let’s go.”
Ying Jing turned his head and asked, “Did I mess up during my presentation?”
Qi Yu replied, “No, you did well.”
“Then why didn’t they choose us?”
Qi Yu opened his mouth several times but couldn’t find the words.
Suddenly, Ying Jing stood up.
“Hey! Where are you going!” Qi Yu exclaimed, unable to keep up with his rapidly retreating figure.
In the small hall outside the venue, many people remained—investors, selected companies, exchanging pleasantries or discussing collaborations. Ying Jing paused, seized by stubborn determination, and randomly approached an unlucky investor. “Excuse me, I’m the one who just presented the feasibility analysis for virtual simulation. My name is Ying Jing. I apologize for interrupting you.”
As soon as he spoke, all eyes turned to him.
He had chosen this particular investor because he remembered that among all the investors, this person seemed experienced and influential.
Ying Jing’s question was direct, and precisely because of its directness, it came across as sincere and earnest: “Could you please tell me if there’s anything in my project presentation that needs improvement?”
The elder was taken aback, then couldn’t help but laugh.
Those around them chuckled too.
Though the laughter might have been善意的 (kind-hearted), to Ying Jing at that moment, it felt like thorns pricking his skin, mocking him.
Most people were clearly enjoying the spectacle.
He thought bitterly, Hmph, probably all about connections.
Just like how the school always favored the Aerospace Design program!
At twenty-something, the term “fiery youth” fit perfectly. Long-standing unfairness, coupled with days of sleepless nights spent on something that went unrecognized, and perhaps even Chu Ning’s earlier action of closing their project report—
Ying Jing felt as if he’d fallen into an icy abyss. Still, he pressed on fervently, “Please guide me. I can improve. I can do better.”
The friendly laughter grew louder.
This young man was genuinely naive and endearing.
It was as if everyone was watching something trivial, not taking his plea seriously. That was when Chu Ning stepped forward—
“The project idea is good, highly specialized, technologically advanced, and has a degree of foresight.”
She emerged gracefully from the crowd, her movements soft and elegant, her voice calm and steady, neither sharp nor overly enthusiastic.
When Ying Jing met her gaze, he felt a wave of relief wash over him.
Chu Ning continued, “But the feasibility is too low.”
Ying Jing defended, “Feasibility isn’t an issue. We’ve already demonstrated a basic model in the PPT.”
Chu Ning countered, “Alright, then how long would it take to go from development to practical application?”
Ying Jing drew a breath, as if preparing for a lengthy explanation, but upon reflection, he faltered.
“Even if it could be implemented quickly, where exactly would it be applied?”
“Aviation engine research and development,” Ying Jing responded, like a player in a card game suddenly drawing a winning card. His voice rose slightly, tinged with pride. “Everyone knows the Boeing 777, right? Its entire design and component testing were made possible by virtual simulation technology, reducing its development cycle from eight years to five.”
Chu Ning repeated, “Eight years to five?”
Ying Jing affirmed, “Yes!”
Chu Ning’s tone remained calm and concise: “Eight years? Five years?”
Her voice carried an icy edge, devoid of any sentimentality.
Chu Ning suddenly smiled faintly, turning her rhetorical question into a dismissive statement: “Hmm, five years.”
For businesses, profit was paramount. A five-year investment cycle was already pushing the limits of most companies. And for a vague, unpredictable project like this? It touched on too many uncertainties. In the end, it boiled down to six simple words:
No hope. Can’t wait.
Chu Ning’s meaning was crystal clear: she wasn’t willing to gamble on idealism for tomorrow.
Her words left Ying Jing’s ears burning and his chest aching. The bold, fearless spirit of a newcomer was utterly crushed. Only now, under the weight of harsh truths, did he realize how fragile and insignificant his pride truly was.
This was Chu Ning’s usual style—direct, objective. Overall, it was a virtue, but to Ying Jing, it felt cold and merciless.
A failed attempt, a crushing defeat.
Ying Jing felt completely deflated, his body drained of strength.
Qi Yu consoled him: “It’s okay. We were acknowledged, weren’t we?”
Still stubborn, Ying Jing retorted, “I think they just don’t understand. They’re just simple businesspeople.”
Qi Yu replied, “If they can succeed with simplicity, why complicate things?”
A lump formed in Ying Jing’s throat, unable to swallow or spit it out, suffocating him.
Back at school, the mood was somber.
On the Aerospace Design side, however, there was jubilation.
“I told you they wouldn’t make it. Putting up banners at the start—how childish.”
“Why bother joining this fuss? The school already made its stance clear. What a waste of time.”
“And their fan club—it’s like a cult.”
When Ying Jing returned, he collapsed onto his bed. The next day, when Qi Yu called him to class, he pulled the blanket over his head, turned over, and muttered angrily.
It happened to be Lizi Zhou’s class. Afterward, he stopped Qi Yu and asked, “Where’s that kid?”
Qi Yu scratched his head nervously: “He’s devastated, in seclusion.”
Lizi Zhou raised his voice: “Tell him that if he skips class again this afternoon, he can forget about passing this semester!”
Qi Yu dutifully relayed the message.
Still lying in bed, Ying Jing suddenly bolted upright, his hair a tousled mess. “Why shouldn’t I pass?! This project was assigned by him—we were doing it for him! It’s not him who should be embarrassed!”
“Shh, keep your voice down,” Qi Yu tried to cover his mouth. “I saw Little Black Frames playing in the neighboring dormitory just now.”
Little Black Frames, whose real name was Luo Jia, was the one whose aerospace project had been selected.
But before Luo Jia could hear this, Professor Lizi Zhou, standing by the door, overheard.
Qi Yu’s heart raced. “Professor Lizi.”
Ying Jing froze, then adopted a fearless expression, as if saying, “I’m just stating the facts.”
Lizi Zhou… said nothing. No scolding, no reproach, not a single word.
His back was visibly stooped from years spent in the operating room. Though tall, he had long lost his upright posture.
Lizi Zhou glanced at Ying Jing. The look was ambiguous, but Ying Jing interpreted it as piercingly painful.
He turned away, deliberately ignoring it, his stubbornness unwavering.
Lizi Zhou left.
Qi Yu felt uneasy. “Hey, there’s no need to be like this. Not getting selected is normal. That woman investor’s words this morning made sense.”
It was precisely because they made sense that they felt so realistic and hopeless.
“What do you know?” Ying Jing shot back, hastily washing up and throwing on some clothes before heading out.
At the same time, Little Black Frames from the neighboring dormitory also emerged.
The two collided face-to-face.
Ying Jing kept his gaze straight ahead, his neck elongated with pride. Luo Jia, being equally immature, deliberately called out to a classmate: “Actually, I didn’t put in much effort. The lab was specially approved by the department for my use—it was convenient. I didn’t sacrifice any rest time, let alone pull three or four all-nighters.”
Ying Jing stopped in his tracks, his voice icy: “Who are you talking about?”
Luo Jia smirked, tilting his chin: “Whoever fits the description.”
Two young, fiery egos clashed—a disaster waiting to happen.
Ying Jing’s temper flared. He grabbed Luo Jia by the collar: “Can you speak properly?”
Luo Jia, with his typical nerdy appearance and middling height of 170 cm, was no match against the towering 180 cm Ying Jing.
Luo Jia stumbled and fell, but upon getting up, threw a punch that grazed Ying Jing’s jaw.
Blinded by rage, the two erupted into a violent brawl. There were cries of pain and the dull thuds of fists landing—both fought with full force.
When Ying Jing was finally pulled away, he limped. Luo Jia… lay on the ground, unable to stand even with the help of several others.
“Keep your mouth shut if you can’t speak properly,” Ying Jing panted, shrugging off Qi Yu’s restraining hand. Pointing at Luo Jia, his eyes burned with undisguised hatred: “Listen up—I, Ying Jing, may have lost today, but I didn’t lose to you!”
A fight of this magnitude in such an academically focused institution was nothing short of monumental. It became the top topic of conversation in every dormitory for the next three days.
“Wow, Luo Jia got beaten up so badly. Ying Jing sure can fight!”
“What’s surprising about that? I heard his father works in the military district. Coming from a military family, his physical fitness must be top-notch.”
“Ugh, why does that sound weird? Kind of creepy.”
“No way! You’re the one thinking dirty thoughts.”
“But Ying Jing’s physique is pretty good, haha.”
Gossip among the girls was lively and colorful, but they soon returned to the main topic.
“Did you know? Ying Jing had incredible grades back in high school. His first choice was Tsinghua.”
“So how did he end up at C Aviation?”
“He made a mistake on the college entrance exam. Such a pity—he missed it by just a few points.”
The wind rustled the leaves gently, bringing a moment of calm.
“...”
“Sigh…”
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