CHAPTER 79: CHAPTER 88: THE SHATTERED MILLION, WONDERFUL!

When the butterfly flaps its wings, no one knows what consequences will follow, or whether it will trigger a storm. A small accident often leads to a chain reaction of unexpected events.

Sometimes, that’s just how things are.

Of course, once a crucial link is broken, the resulting impact is hard for outsiders to estimate.

"It’s over. The atomic bomb will be delayed."

Others might not know, but Li Yi’an is well aware of Wu Jianxiong’s role in the "Manhattan Project." Oppenheimer once said—without her, the atomic bomb wouldn’t appear until at least 1946.

"So what now?"

Faced with the prospect of the atomic bomb being delayed, Li Yi’an didn’t feel anxious. In fact, the corners of his mouth couldn’t help but curl up in a faint smile.

Without the atomic bomb, will the Japanese surrender next year?

They will definitely fight to the bitter end... In that case, "Operation Downfall" will surely be carried out. By then, the price Japan will pay is unimaginable.

Not only will tens of millions die in the war, but millions more will starve to death in the ensuing famine. After all, for four or five years, Japan has already been plunged into famine by the Allies’ "starvation operations"!

By that time, it really might be "one hundred million shattered jewels" (i.e., the entire Japanese population perishing for the emperor).

"Come to think of it, this might actually be a good thing." As Li Yi’an envisioned the "one hundred million shattered jewels" scenario, Wu Jianxiong and her husband were enjoying a rare moment of leisure at a luxurious mansion in Southampton. The couple was, of course, deeply grateful to Li Yi’an—not only did he not mind that they had damaged his car, he even invited them to recuperate at his seaside mansion. This kindness moved them greatly.

Sometimes, relationships between people are just that simple. In their idle moments, the couple would lavish praise on Li Yi’an in letters to friends. Through their correspondence, most Chinese students in America came to know that the boss of Zhenhua Company, Li Yi’an, was a knowledgeable and warm-hearted man.

In just a few months, Li Yi’an had connected with many overseas students, and he proactively provided financial support to those struggling. In a short time, he gained the goodwill of many.

Meanwhile, news about him was also spreading back home—when the weapons donated by Li Yi’an arrived in large quantities, the domestic press widely reported on it. For a while, he was absolutely the most talked-about Chinese figure.

This news made both Chinese students and the overseas Chinese community in America see him in a new light. After all, to support the war effort, he donated military supplies worth over a hundred million dollars. People were amazed not only by his wealth, but even more by his willingness to sacrifice everything for the cause.

But, as the saying goes, "Fame brings trouble."

After becoming famous overnight, Li Yi’an constantly received invitations from all sorts of organizations—some inviting him to return home to encourage the military and civilians, others hoping he would donate supplies for refugee relief or orphan care.

In short, once you’re famous, trouble follows.

He didn’t go himself, but he couldn’t avoid sending money—a check, at least, to express his sentiments.

Sometimes, even in America, visitors from China would come to see him. Tired of all this, Li Yi’an locked himself away in his laboratory to escape the chaos. The so-called laboratory was, in fact, an airport.

That’s right—an airport.

The airport was located in Southampton, New York’s "paradise" for the wealthy, with beautiful beaches, top-notch restaurants, and vast farmlands. However, at this time, Southampton wasn’t yet filled with mansions as it would be in later years; farmland still dominated the landscape. The airport Li Yi’an purchased was situated in the middle of farmland—a 1,600-acre farm with an airstrip for crop-dusting planes.

After some simple expansion, the airport could accommodate twin-engine planes like the DC-3. Two DC-2s were parked beside the hangar, and inside, Cohan was pointing at blueprints, explaining to Li Yi’an a design he had just completed last year—a new aerial refueling system.

"...The tanker releases a refueling hose from the lower rear fuselage or a wing pod. The end of the hose has a funnel-shaped drogue, which looks like an oversized funnel, equipped with an automatic locking mechanism. The drogue stabilizes the hose in the air and guides the probe into the connector. The receiving aircraft has a forward-extending probe mounted on the side of the fuselage or the leading edge of the wing. The pilot inserts the probe into the drogue to complete the connection. Once the probe enters the connector, the lock engages, and refueling can begin."

Looking at Cohan’s drawings, Li Yi’an recognized it immediately, even without explanation—this was the hose-and-drogue aerial refueling system popular in later years. Historically, Cohan invented this technology during World War II, but it wasn’t adopted by the British and American air forces until after the war—for bombing missions against the Soviet Union.

But now, with Li Yi’an’s support, this aerial refueling technology, which during WWII existed only on paper, was about to become a reality. To support the experiments, he had even purchased two DC-2 transport aircraft at great expense.

It’s not that he didn’t want to buy a DC-3 or even larger aircraft—he simply couldn’t get his hands on one.

"What’s the refueling speed?"

"According to my calculations, the refueling rate should be about 300 gallons per minute."

Three hundred gallons—that’s roughly a thousand liters. Although the speed is a bit slow, it’s just about enough. After all, when the B-29s carry out bombing missions, their fuel load is only a little over ten tons.

After doing some quick calculations in his mind, Pierre spoke up.

"When can we have this refueling system built?"

"Hmm..."

Cohanum thought for a moment and replied, "It’ll probably take about two months. We need to completely reconfigure the aircraft’s fuel lines, and we also have to test the refueling equipment. The first trial run will likely have to wait until June."

"June? Can’t it be any sooner?"

By June, it would be too late—three months from now, 67 B-29 bombers would take off from Chengdu to bomb Shikoku in Japan. This operation would mark the beginning of large-scale bombing of Japan. Of course, this raid would also win Roosevelt a great deal of votes, since at this point, compared to fighting Germany, Americans hated the Japanese even more.

On the surface, the Americans kept urging China to speed up airfield construction for the sake of the war effort, but in reality?

Bombing Japan was all about winning votes for Roosevelt.

"Can you do it in one month?"

Pierre asked bluntly.

"It’s March 12 now... Can you have the first aerial refueling system installed on a plane before April 15? And before the 20th, can you complete at least five aerial refueling tests?"

He was so anxious because he needed to provide the Pentagon with an alternative before the B-29s took off from Chengdu, maximizing China’s interests. Otherwise, the precious capacity of the "Hump Route" would be wasted on transporting gasoline and bombs, while urgently needed guns and ammunition would only arrive in China after the war was over.

"This..."

As Cohanum hesitated, Pierre said,

"I’ll give you everything you need—personnel, machinery, the entire Carl Metals Company. Whatever you require, it’s yours to command. Thirty days! In thirty days, I want to see results!"