Chapter 163: My Son Made This!

The first sea trial took place in the artificial lake of Youth Lake Park. Filled with immense pride that his son had independently crafted such an exquisite and bulky creation, Hong Tao’s father specially borrowed a tricycle to haul both his son and the massive ship all the way to the park entrance. Together, they carried the grand vessel to the lakeside. When the *Dongfanghong* sped smoothly across the water under Hong Tao’s control, the father’s face blossomed into a radiant smile. Facing the inquiries of the surrounding onlookers, he dropped his usual false modesty, held his head high, and declared proudly, "My son made this all by himself!"

In truth, Hong Tao’s boat still had major flaws. First and foremost, the ballast weight was slightly askew, causing the entire vessel to list to the right in the water. Furthermore, the ballast was still too light, leaving the hull’s draft insufficiently deep. It looked as though something underneath was propping the boat up as it skimmed the surface, which appeared rather awkward. Yet, in the father’s eyes, these shortcomings were microscopic flaws. Anyone who dared ask, "Isn't this boat a bit crooked?" would instantly be met with a look of utter disdain from the father, as if he were thinking, *You think you can do straight? Try making one yourself and let me see!*

After two or three rounds of adjustments, Hong Tao finally brought the bulky creation to school. Fortunately, his home was close by; had it been any farther, the bumpy journey alone might have shaken several parts right off the model.

"Th-This... you made this yourself?" Director Bai stared at the massive ship Hong Tao and his uncle placed on her desk, her eyes widening in disbelief.

"Pretty much. When gluing the hull together, I had an old master carpenter lend a hand, but the rest of it was all my own work. Nobody else touched it." Hong Tao felt the piece was passable, at least worthy of boasting about given that someone of his age had completed it in under three months.

"What is this?" Walking around the giant ship to inspect it from all angles, Director Bai finally spotted a wooden box with a button attached to the stern. It was unpainted and crudely crafted, seemingly out of place on a model ship.

"This is a remote control. It can command the ship to move forward, turn left and right, and stop within a thirty-meter range. My dad and I took it to Youth Lake to test and calibrate it. It's not bad, right?" Hong Tao unhooked the wooden box from the stern, pulled out an antenna, and flipped on the hidden power switch inside the forecastle to demonstrate the operation of the propeller and rudder to Director Bai.

"Can these little airplanes fly too?" Following Hong Tao’s line of thinking, Director Bai let her imagination run wild.

"Your expectations are a bit too far-fetched. We agreed this is a technological project. Why are you turning it into a fairy tale?" Hong Tao protested, feeling this was akin to a disguised insult. She wanted a wooden airplane smaller than a cigarette case to fly? If it could actually fly, would he still be wasting his effort here trying to coast through elementary school?

"Right, right, you've got my head spinning. It's fantastic, absolutely fantastic! Did you come up with the idea of putting airplanes on the ship?" Director Bai smiled sheepishly and began asking about the source of Hong Tao's creative inspiration.

"Heh, I can see it now. Aside from my dad, not a single person I've met has any clue what this thing is called. Look, I’ve already written down the summary, you can read it yourself. Also, you mustn't press down on this propeller and rudder—one press and they're finished. Be extra careful when moving it. I'll be heading off now; call me if you need anything." Hong Tao tugged his young uncle, who was still lingering by the ship model and staring blankly at the cannons and planes on the deck, and together they stepped out of the office.

"Little Tao, why don't you make another one for me? It doesn't have to be this big, a smaller one is fine. Do you think once this thing is sent to the Children’s Palace, they’ll ever give it back to you?" Every young boy loves things like guns, tanks, warships, and airplanes, and the young uncle was no exception. Although he was about to graduate from high school, he remained deeply fascinated by such a grand toy.

"I don't have the time to spend another three months making one. How about I teach you how to make it? Isn't something you build with your own hands much more meaningful?" Hong Tao refused to go through that again; this had already tested the absolute limits of his patience.

"That's way too much trouble! I don't know how to do it, and my hands are clumsy!" Hearing that he would have to make it himself, the young uncle immediately backed out, willingly labeling himself clumsy rather than lifting a finger.

"Yeah, smart people work themselves to death, while those who can't do anything idle away their days. You're not clumsy, you're just too cunning. Just lump it and bear with it!" Hong Tao knew his uncle wouldn't lift a finger—he was the textbook definition of someone who could eat anything with relish but couldn't accomplish a single task.

"By the way, Uncle, you're graduating this year. You'll probably be heading to work at Grandpa's factory before long. What are the plans of your stinky older girlfriend?" Hong Tao suddenly remembered that his young uncle's graduation exams were right around the corner.

"She said she wants to try taking the college entrance exam. Her grades are in the top ten of her grade..." Mentioning this topic instantly drained the young uncle of his spirit.

"Sigh, you always regret not having enough knowledge when you need it! If she does get into college, how do you two plan to handle your relationship?" Hong Tao felt powerless to help in this matter; he certainly couldn't force the stinky older girlfriend to abandon the college entrance exams.

"She said once she graduates from college, she can be with me..." A slight flush even appeared on the young uncle's face.

"Do you think that's reliable?" Hearing his uncle's reply, Hong Tao felt his heart sink to the bottom. Every year during this season, young couples in their final year of high school across the country probably repeated those exact words tens of thousands of times. Those who actually managed to pull it off likely numbered in the ten-thousandths.

"I think it'll be fine. She's not going to a school out of town. By the time she graduates, I might even be earning more than she does. Who cares about college students, what good are they?" The young uncle was surprisingly optimistic. His mindset and Grandpa's couldn't quite be described as completely detached from the times, but at best, they were just clinging to the very tail end of an era.

"Well, true. I'm heading downstairs first." Hong Tao couldn't very well tell his uncle that his first romance was doomed to wither, so he could only pretend to know nothing.

Before the summer vacation, the young uncle triumphantly graduated from high school with passing grades in all subjects. Why call it an excellent result? Because among their entire grade, the only two academic elites both tested into secondary specialized schools, another slightly lesser student got into a regular university, and anyone else who merely managed a passing grade was considered a fine student.

Although they attended classes in the same school, Hong Tao and his uncle belonged to entirely different eras of children. When Hong Tao's generation went to school, they were busy raising a ruckus all day—where would they find the time to study? Even if you wanted to learn, there was nowhere to find a teacher, as the teachers had all been denounced and criticized by the senior students.

The young uncle was relatively fortunate. He fell right into a window of age where he missed being sent down to the countryside, missed the factional armed struggles and smash-and-grab chaos, and managed to reclaim a few years of steady study time after junior high. Unfortunately, for a child, missing the foundational elementary school years—the most crucial period for building study habits—made learning a daunting challenge. Moreover, the most realistic problem was that it wasn't just him slacking off; the entire class and the entire grade were the same way.

Of course, there are exceptions in every era, as evidenced by the two students who tested into secondary specialized schools. Do not underestimate the secondary specialized schools of the 1970s and 80s; they were even more sought after by students and parents than universities. The cutoff scores for secondary specialized schools were higher than those for regular colleges. Those two individuals didn't fail to test into universities; they simply didn't want to go. Because secondary specialized schools also guaranteed job assignments upon graduation, and due to the half-work, half-study nature of those three years, various work units greatly preferred graduates of secondary specialized schools over university students who possessed no practical work skills.

Throughout the seventies and eighties, graduating from a secondary specialized school was considered equivalent to securing a government cadre track, with benefits identical to those of university graduates. Furthermore, secondary specialized schools lasted only three years, with students typically sent off for internships at work units by their third year while earning a salary. Consequently, most parents and students back then favored secondary specialized schools over universities. Even among school teachers, the sentiment was the same: when filling out application preferences, teachers would often mobilize the top-performing students to test for popular secondary specialized schools. This wasn't because teachers deliberately sabotaged their students, but rather because living within an era, the vast majority of people could not break free of its limitations.

Naturally, for the young uncle, neither college nor secondary specialized school was meant for him; even entertaining the thought was a sin. His future had long since been mapped out by Grandpa: he would inherit Grandpa's position. Ever since Hong Tao was hauled to the police station last time, the young uncle's range of motion and schedule had been strictly curtailed by Grandpa. His daily routine was reduced to a triangular route between school, home, and the shop. Even if he wanted to catch a movie, he had to report to Grandpa in advance and secure approval before making the trip.

Moreover, during this period, the stinky older girlfriend spent less and less time lingering with the young uncle at the shop. She was the only one in the entire school who chose to take the college entrance exams, and she had spent the past half-year furiously reviewing her coursework. Even when she did visit the shop, she would usually stay for just a brief moment after school before hurrying home.

Hong Tao harbored deeply pessimistic views regarding the prospects of his young uncle and the stinky older girlfriend. The girl was calculating, possessed a resilient personality, and looked far ahead into the future. Why she had chosen to associate with the young uncle at school remained unclear to Hong Tao, but he suspected that finding an excuse to deter other boys might have been her ultimate objective. If anything else factored in, it was perhaps a touch of vanity. After all, the young uncle was far better-looking than Hong Tao—while not universally adored by everyone who laid eyes on him, he possessed prominent, striking features, some pocket money, and a family that owned both a clothing store and a hair salon. For a young girl who loved snacks, fine clothes, and dressing up, he held undeniable appeal.