Chapter 295: The Beginning Of The Moon Base
Lin Ran’s math class has had very little presence since its inception.
The time Lin Ran personally teaches is pitifully scarce.
This doesn’t mean it lacks significance, because the members of the math class have all interned at Apollo Technology. Just this resume alone allows them to go to any major local government or company in the world.
It just means it’s different from everyone’s expectations before coming.
Originally, they thought coming to Lin Ran’s math class meant studying under a mathematics master, properly learning pure mathematics, at least cultivating everyone in that direction. Lin Ran excels in number theory, but that doesn’t mean he only knows number theory.
Modern mathematics has developed to this stage, and number theory also requires extremely strong analytical skills.
What everyone didn’t expect was that studying in Lin Ran’s math class felt like putting them on the path of cultivating them toward applied mathematics, with no return.
It teaches emphasis on calculation, various question sea tactics. Though not mandatory, can you say no to the professor’s recommendation?
Apollo Technology’s internship—if you’ve interned here, the Americans naturally want you to go, but the question is, can you go? The Americans give you a visa, but domestic won’t let you go.
The internship at Apollo Technology is mainly in mathematical physics, completely unrelated to pure mathematics.
As for interacting with Lin Ran, you might get only one chance per semester to attend his class.
The class location isn’t even on Jiaotong University campus; you have to go to Kunshan and pass through layers of security checks.
At the beginning, Lin Ran would occasionally go to Jiaotong University to teach, but now, whenever Lin Ran appears in a classroom, the classroom will be surrounded by students from Shanghai universities right after, not just from Jiaotong University.
Tongji students interning at your factory screwing screws want to come see the boss—can you refuse? Fudan business students want to pay respects to the senior student and beg for shelter—can you refuse?
If you don’t refuse, the classroom is packed with people, and security difficulty explodes.
Therefore, after the moon landing, Lin Ran only returned to Jiaotong University to teach once, and that class caused a sensation across the entire campus.
He hasn’t gone back since.
Yanjing side is also afraid of accidents, after all, there are not only China students in Shanghai universities, but also foreign country international students.
Prevention is better than cure.
So Lin Ran is said to be a full-time professor at Jiaotong University, salary paid as usual, salary received as usual, and no one dares to leave out this double academician in every evaluation for honors.
Although Lin Ran’s status no longer needs to compete with young teachers for honors, Jiaotong University must do face engineering properly every time; Lin Ran refusing himself is much better than them not putting him up.
After all, for the gimmick, Jiaotong University can’t let people go.
Actually, Lin Ran rarely has the opportunity to teach students, said to be full-time professor, but teaching time is even less than a visiting professor.
The only benefit for Lin Ran’s math class classmates is going to Apollo Technology once a month for Lin Ran’s math class.
This is also the segment they look forward to most every time; after the math lecture, they can ask Lin Ran about aerospace, about moon landing—these are truly first-hand intelligence.
This time is no exception; because the Apollo moon landing is ongoing, after the math class ends, everyone raises hands eagerly.
Compared to 20 people last year, there are 20 more newcomers this year.
Because Jiaotong University steadily ranks top three among China universities, with school-run enterprises like Apollo Technology, scores for some top majors can even reach mid-range majors at Yenching University Tsinghua University.
This shows how fast its status has risen.
The minimum score line also steadily surpasses Fudan.
“I know everyone definitely has a lot of questions. Like you, I’ve been scrolling social media too. On social media, everyone is talking about the moon landing, Shackleton Crater, and what we’ll do next.
Considering our meeting time is limited, we’ll go from front to back in order; everyone will have a chance to ask questions.
Of course, not all questions can be answered; some too sensitive ones, I’ll avoid.
Wang Jiarui, let’s start with you.”
Lin Ran said to Wang Jiarui sitting in the first row far left.
“Professor, can you tell us if Apollo Technology is going to do Starlink? Online is buzzing now, saying Apollo Technology will team up with Huawei to build China’s version of Starlink, meaning next year’s Huawei mobile phones will carry Starlink communication technology.
If so, then I’m thinking of waiting another year—wait-and-see party forever free!” Wang Jiarui asked.
Everyone present perked up their ears; they were also very concerned.
Lin Ran smiled: “Correct, but not just with Huawei—accurately, it’s three companies: Apollo Technology, the newly established Yuanxin Satellite Technology in Shanghai, and Huawei. We’ll join hands to build China’s version of Starlink, named Qianfan Project.”
Musk’s Starlink caused huge shock to China, especially after the war in early 2022, everyone realized positions are limited and can’t let Starlink satellites take them all.
So China successively launched Hongyun Project, Hongyan Constellation, Xingwang Constellation, and a series of China version Starlinks, but in the end, the one that emerged from all proposals was the state-owned capital sponsored Qianfan Constellation in Shanghai.
At this time, because of Apollo Technology, Shanghai has more confidence in competing for the China version Starlink location, and Qianfan Constellation enters design phase a year earlier than before.
“Professor, so when will we launch probe satellites to the Moon? Routine monitoring of the Moon?”
“This year, satellites will be launched within this year to build the Moon communication network first.
After the astronauts return this time, we’ll launch water ice rover, Moon communication base station, and six satellites up there; the Moon version of Starlink will come online even earlier than on Earth.” Lin Ran explained.
“So professor, when will you go to the Moon again?”
As soon as this question came out, the students present all looked at Lin Ran with curious eyes.
Lin Ran explained: “I probably won’t be able to go to the Moon for a long time. Last time was just an accident; if accidents happen frequently, they’re no longer accidents.”
“What about us? Professor, do we have a chance to become astronauts and go to the Moon?”
Lin Ran looked at the glasses worn by this chubby guy and smiled: “In the past, glasses wearers might not be allowed, but the future—who knows. I believe if you all work at Apollo Technology in the future and pass astronaut selection, you completely have a chance to go to space or even the Moon.
As far as I know, among the astronauts for China Aerospace’s next mission, there’s a professor from Yanjing Aerospace, and that professor seems to wear glasses.”
The students below the stage excitedly whispered to each other, because past education or TV programs they watched, astronauts were selected from Air Force pilots, and Air Force pilots with myopia would be unconditionally eliminated.
Indeed, technological progress brings new changes.
Liu Jiyuan and Wang Jiarui felt every time they came to Lin Ran’s class, there were new feelings.
“The post-class Q&A time feels about the same as the professor’s lecture.” Afterwards, while eating in the Apollo Technology canteen, Wang Jiarui complained.
Liu Jiyuan said: “Not without gains; at least we can post the professor’s latest sticker pack to show off when we go back!”
Posting Moments to show off is too deliberate; generally, Lin Ran’s math class students only post once, taking a group photo when first meeting Lin Ran, then posting Moments with a sticker like kneeling to Ran Shen, to show off like that.
But Lin Ran’s class is once a month; you can’t post such Moments every month—showing off that way is effective but deliberate.
Jiaotong University students disdain using such methods.
Their method is posting Lin Ran’s latest Moments, hand-made, ensuring this sticker pack hasn’t circulated in Jiaotong University WeChat groups before, so everyone knows you’ve seen Lin Ran again, achieving the purpose while enriching everyone’s professor sticker pack library material.
And if your sticker pack is interesting enough, it can spread widely within Jiaotong University alumni circles; particularly interesting ones can even go viral, also an affirmation of your meme skills.
This leads to posting Lin Ran sticker packs in original groups like freshman groups or class groups becoming an unspoken way to show off.
Of course, they have other discoveries today.
Wang Jiarui nudged Liu Jiyuan’s arm: “Look at your diagonal rear, nine o’clock direction.”
Liu Jiyuan puzzled: “What’s there?”
Wang Jiarui said: “The professor and Pony are eating; Tencent’s Pony. Big shot also eats in the canteen? I thought they had special small kitchens; my dad’s unit leaders eat small kitchens and never squeeze in the canteen with clerks.”
Liu Jiyuan whispered: “Hurry and take a photo; new material.”
Wang Jiarui asked: “What material?”
Liu Jiyuan said: “Think about it: you photograph the two, then add text—Pony says how many stars and moons do you have? Professor answers: 1 star, 5 dwarf planets, 8 planets, 500,000 asteroids, 82 satellites.
Pony asks, I mean QQ level; professor answers, I mean the responsibility on my shoulders!
Finally, give the professor a full-body photo, shoulders full of stars from the solar system. Isn’t that complete!”
Wang Jiarui complained: “You’re a real meme genius! Damn, it really works; I have a feeling this three-panel comic will explode.”
On the Moon, this is the final Moon probe segment; after this process ends, they’ll prepare to return to Earth.
Wei Xuhang stands beside the lunar module, checking the instrument box on the lunar rover.
The seismograph is a compact device, about half a meter high, with three adjustable legs and foldable solar panels, internally equipped with high-sensitivity sensors that can detect ground vibrations as low as 0.3 nanometers, capturing moonquake and meteorite impact signals.
The radiation detector is a small cube, surface covered with silicon detectors, used to measure cosmic rays and solar particle intensity.
Both instruments connect to the lunar module via small communication modules, transmitting data back to Earth in real time.
“Li Cong, according to the map, there’s a flat area 200 meters west, suitable for the seismograph,” Wei Xuhang said through headphones, tone steady, gaze scanning the terrain map on the tablet.
He pointed to a marked spot on the screen: “Here, away from the lunar module, minimal vibration interference.”
Li Cong nodded, adjusting the spacesuit oxygen valve, trying to alleviate the clumsiness from the gloves.
“What about the radiation detector? Needs open area?” He looked up at the distant shadowed region, where rock outlines were faintly visible in the darkness.
“Yes, radiation detector must be placed without obstructions to capture omnidirectional rays,” Wei Xuhang replied, patting the lunar rover’s cargo hold: “Load the instruments first, then we’re off.”
The two carefully secured the seismograph and radiation detector on the lunar rover.
This six-wheel-drive mechanical beast has Xiaomi’s Logo on the front, with wide tires designed for the Moon’s soft moon soil and rocky terrain.
The roof solar panels gleam under low-angle sunlight, and the internal small radioisotope heater ensures equipment runs in extreme cold.
Wei Xuhang climbed into the driver’s seat, started the lunar rover, and the electric motor emitted a slight hum.
Li Cong sat in the passenger seat, checking instrument securing: “All secured, Xuhang, remember to drive steady—no accidents for these babies on the road.”
Li Cong thought to ease the tense atmosphere, pulling everyone out of the earlier rest and back into work mode.
The lunar rover moved forward slowly, tires crushing moon soil and kicking up dust, floating like thin mist in one-sixth gravity.
The terrain was rugged, small craters and scattered rocks making driving cautious.
Completely unrelated to speeding; this speed was even slower than driving on mountain roads.
Wei Xuhang gripped the control stick tightly, avoiding a protruding rock, the vehicle tilting slightly.
“This terrain is way more complex than the training ground,” he said softly.
Li Cong nodded: “Of course; no matter what, Earth can’t simulate the feeling of one-sixth lunar gravity.”
200 meters away, they reached the target area, a relatively flat patch of moon soil surrounded by only scattered small stones.
Li Cong jumped down, boots sinking into the soft ground, also kicking up dust.
“Looks good, Xuhang, ready to start clearing.”
The two bent down, using small shovels to clear loose surface rocks.
Low gravity made movements light, but the thick spacesuit gloves made every grasp a struggle against the Moon.
Li Cong picked up a fist-sized rock, tossing it gently far away; it traced a slow arc in the air, landing almost silently.
“This feels like slow-motion delayed photography,” he complained.
Clearing done, they unloaded the seismograph pack from the lunar rover.
The instrument box was compactly designed, folded solar panels like metal petals waiting to bloom.
Wei Xuhang carefully unfolded the solar panels, adjusting angle toward the low-hanging sun.
“South Pole’s sunlight angle is low; must ensure panels receive maximum light,” he said, checking the inclinometer, confirming about 15 degrees tilt.
Li Cong opened the instrument box, taking out the seismograph body.
He placed it gently on the ground, checking the built-in level.
“A bit off; left leg too high.” Li Cong squatted, adjusting leg screws slowly and cautiously to prevent imbalance in low gravity.
Wei Xuhang assisted nearby, using headlamp to light the ground, ensuring no small stones interfered.
“Be careful; this thing must be stable enough to capture moonquakes.” He checked the level, bubble centered: “Perfect!”
Next, the communication module connection segment.
A slender cable extended from the seismograph to a small transmitter, which would transmit data to Queqiao satellite, then relay to Earth.
Li Cong plugged in the cable, confirming secure connection.
He flipped the switch to power on; the instrument beeped crisply, screen lit up showing initialization complete.
“Wenchang Control Center, seismograph operating normally,” Wei Xuhang reported to mission control center via headphones.
“Xuhang, received, start deploying radiation detector!”
They returned to the lunar rover, taking out the radiation detector.
This device’s design was much simpler, just needing placement in an open area without complex adjustments.
“Need a spot without obstructions,” Li Cong said, surveying surroundings.
Sunlit area’s terrain was relatively flat, but rocks at shadow edges might interfere with measurements.
He pointed to a clearing 10 meters away: “How about there?”
Wei Xuhang nodded: “Good, away from rocks and lunar rover.”
They carefully carried the detector, steps slow to prevent dust covering sensors.
Li Cong placed the detector on the ground, activated the switch; screen showed initial radiation reading: about 0.2 microsieverts per hour, as expected.
“Wenchang Control Center, radiation detector activated,” Li Cong reported: “Recording background radiation.”
“Received! Stay safe.” Earth could only remind them this way—Earth is with you.
Wei Xuhang stood by, gazing at the instruments, sighing: “This thing will tell us how dangerous the lunar surface radiation is; future base site selection relies entirely on this data.”
Suddenly, the seismograph’s transmitter emitted a slight alarm, showing minor ground vibration.
Li Cong quickly checked the screen: “Probably a small moonquake; data already recording!”
His voice carried surprise, eyes sparkling under the visor.
Wei Xuhang grinned and said: “Just installed and already working—good efficiency.”
He patted the lunar rover’s body: “This guy brought us to complete the big task.”
This line was deliberately arranged to give the sponsor enough screen time; otherwise, those 2 billion would be wasted.
The two stepped back, admiring their achievement.
The seismograph stood steadily, solar panels gleaming in sunlight, capturing every ray.
The radiation detector worked quietly, numbers jumping on the screen, recording the Moon’s radiation environment.
The distant Earth hung in the black sky like a blue lighthouse, reminding them of the mission’s significance.
“These instruments will work here for years,” Li Cong said wistfully, “They’ll reveal the Moon’s secrets, help us build our future home.”
Wei Xuhang nodded, gaze turning to the shadowed region: “Yes, but our task isn’t done. Next, back to the shadowed region for water ice.”
They climbed back into the lunar rover, preparing to return to the lunar module.
The lunar rover’s tires crushed moon soil, leaving deep tracks, as if etching China’s mark on the Moon once more.
Wenchang Control Center’s voice sounded in headphones: “Well done, instruments deployed successfully, data reception normal.”
Wei Xuhang and Li Cong exchanged smiles, hearts filled with achievement.
They knew these instruments were not only science sentinels but also the cornerstone of China advancing toward the Moon’s future.
The two didn’t have such lofty ideals; they wouldn’t say it was for all humanity.
They more agreed with what Lin Ran said: opening an enclave 380,000 km away for China.
The lunar module stood quietly on the sunlit high ground, silver-white shell already covered in moon dust; the lunar rover was temporarily placed in the shadowed region.
Next time they come, it can be restarted by swapping batteries.
Inside the lunar module, Wei Xuhang and Li Cong busily sorted mission results: three water ice core samples, seismograph and radiation detector data storage, and a box of geological samples.
The air was filled with metal and plastic smells, life support system’s low hum echoing in the cabin.
Spacesuits hung on the cabin wall, helmets still with thin frost from shadowed region probing.
Wei Xuhang sat at the console, checking fuel readings.
The screen showed fuel tank transferred liquid hydrogen and oxygen filled the lunar module’s tanks, enough to support direct return to Earth from lunar surface.
He took a deep breath, gaze sweeping the dashboard: “Fuel status good, propulsion system normal. Li Cong, check sample securing.”
Li Cong floated in the cabin, checking samples fixed in storage containers.
He locked the box with magnetic clasps, ensuring floating objects in low gravity wouldn’t interfere with equipment.
“All samples secured, data storage safe.”
After replying, Li Cong asked: “Our return to Earth this time is different from last time when professor PhD and them returned from the Moon?”
“Of course different; this lunar module is completely different from Apollo’s lunar module—it has enough thrust and heat protection to take us home in one go.”
He patted the console, tone full of trust in Lin Ran.
Fuel tank resupply gave it capability for lunar surface liftoff, trans-Earth injection burn, and atmospheric reentry.
This was one of the boldest technical attempts of this moon landing, challenging aerospace engineering limits.
“Wenchang mission control center, this is lunar module. All tasks completed, preparing liftoff,” Wei Xuhang reported via communication system.
Control center replied: “Lunar module, received, all systems checked through—you may liftoff, good luck!”
Li Cong fastened his seatbelt, gripped the handrail tightly, gaze sweeping the lunar horizon outside the porthole.
Gray-white craters and distant shadowed region blurred in his eyes.
Wei Xuhang initiated liftoff sequence, countdown on screen: “10, 9, 8… 3, 2, 1, ignition!”
Lunar module’s engine spewed hot flames, vibrations shaking the entire cabin.
Moon soil was kicked up by airflow, forming a dust cloud slowly spreading in low gravity.
Lunar module rose slowly, Shackleton Crater rapidly receding in porthole view, becoming a huge gray ring.
“Thrust normal, trajectory good,” Wei Xuhang stared at navigation screen, hands steady on control stick, ready to take over anytime.
Lunar module escaped lunar gravity, entering space; Moon’s gray-white surface gradually shrank.
Li Cong gazed at the Moon through porthole, sighing: “Feels like a dream; no wonder the PhD keeps reminiscing about the moon landing—this feeling is truly magical!”
His voice carried reluctance.
Wei Xuhang chuckled: “Of course not a dream; we can come again next time! We brought back hope for the future base.”
He adjusted navigation parameters, preparing TEI burn: “Prepare trans-Earth injection, T minus 10 minutes.”
Li Cong thought: you’ll definitely come again next time, but me—not necessarily; China Aerospace has so many astronauts, who knows when it’ll be my turn.
Watching the receding Moon, the idea of job-hopping never felt so strong; in the past, Li Cong never thought China Aerospace astronauts could job-hop.
Ten minutes later, lunar module’s engine ignited again, completing critical TEI burn, sending them onto Earth return trajectory.
Thrust pressed the two into seats, cabin lights flickering slightly.
Burn ended, screen showed trajectory locked on Earth, estimated arrival in three days.
“Wenchang mission control center, TEI burn successful, returning to Earth,” Wei Xuhang reported, exhaling in relief.
Control center responded: “Received, lunar module, trajectory confirmed, estimated reentry October 11, maintain system monitoring.”
