Tech Giants: Starting from Bankrupt Companies

388: Chapter 388 The Nuclear Fusion Race: The Lunar Construction TeamWashington in August was so humid and stifling that it was hard to breathe. The lawn of the White House Rose Garden was turning yellow under the scorching sun. Under the canopy of the press conference, dozens of reporters were squeezed together, drenched in sweat. The President stood on the podium, behind him a blue background board for the ’National Fusion Initiative,’ his expression as solemn as if he were announcing a war.

”Today, I announce the ’National Fusion Initiative.’ The United States will allocate fifty billion dollars to accelerate fusion research and development. The goal is—to complete a prototype reactor by 2028.” His voice echoed in the muggy air, but the reporters below did not applaud.

The reporter from The New York Times was the first to stand up, the question like a knife: ”Mr. President, the Helium-3 discovered by Xingchen on the Moon is enough to power the Earth for ten thousand years. In the American plan, where will the Helium-3 come from?”

The President was silent for three seconds. Those three seconds felt like three centuries. He glanced at the Minister of Energy beside him and then said, ”We are currently evaluating.”

Someone in the audience laughed. The laughter was quiet, but it was particularly piercing in the muggy air.

At ten o’clock that morning, news of other countries following suit fell like dominoes. Japan added thirty billion dollars to its fusion budget, South Korea added twenty billion, the UK added fifteen billion, and the European Union added fifty billion euros. The headline of Bloomberg News was: ”The Fusion Race Begins! The World Burns Through $150 Billion in One Year.”

At two o’clock in the afternoon, in Shenzhen, Lin Wan was surrounded by reporters in the lobby of Xingchen Headquarters. Microphones and recording pens were stretched out before her like a forest. ”Director Lin, the United States has launched a fifty-billion-dollar fusion plan. What does Xingchen think?”

Lin Wan smiled, a smile with a composed sharpness: ”Fifty billion? It’s a lot. But they forgot one thing—fusion requires fuel. The fuel is on the Moon. And they have no fuel.” She paused, ”Xingchen’s Helium-3 will not be sold to unfriendly countries.”

The reporters recorded frantically. Someone had already thought of a headline: ”Xingchen Declares: The United States Excluded from the Helium-3 Club.”

The next day, the front-page bold headline of The Wall Street Journal read: ”Xingchen: Helium-3 Not for Sale to Unfriendly Countries—Is the US Excluded?” The Financial Times headline was more direct: ”Fusion Race: Fuel in the Hands of Xingchen.” The number one trending topic on Twitter was ”Helium-3 not for sale to unfriendly countries,” followed by a flame emoji.

Netizens’ comments poured in like a tide. One tweet with over a million likes read: ”Xingchen: Study all you want, I have the fuel.” Another: ”The US spends fifty billion to build a reactor, while Xingchen has fuel on the Moon. How can they compete?” The meanest one was this: ”’Unfriendly country—the US,’ that’s talking about you.”

That night, in Washington, the lights were still on in the office of the Minister of Energy. On the screen before her was the video of Lin Wan’s interview, which had been playing on a loop over a dozen times. She picked up the phone and dialed the White House: ”We need to re-evaluate the lunar program.”

August 20, Command Center. The wind from the South China Sea blew in, carrying a salty, humid tropical scent. On Launch Pad No. 1, the tianlong-heavy rocket stood majestically. Three large characters were printed on the fairing—’Construction Team’—next to a line of small text: ’First Stop on the Moon.’ This was the first time humanity had dispatched a Construction Team to another planet.

Chu Tianming stood on the observation deck, wearing a white jumpsuit today with the Xingchen Aerospace logo embroidered on the chest. Behind him was a dense crowd of onlookers—scientists from the Space Agency, representatives from Russia and Europe, and thousands of young people who had traveled from all over the country, holding signs that said ”See you on the Moon.”

”Today,” he said into the microphone, ”what we are sending to the Moon is not a probe, but a Construction Team.”

On the large screen, the task list lit up one by one:

Lunar 3D Printing Robot Mission

Launch Time: August 20, 2021

Arrival Time: January 2022 (Earth-Moon transfer + waiting window)

Number of Robots: 3

Weight per Unit: 2.5 tons

Mission Objective: Lunar soil sintering, construction of the base’s main structure

A reporter from National Geographic raised their hand: ”CEO Chu, why is it called a ’Construction Team’?”

Chu Tianming smiled: ”Because they are going there to work. Not for tourism.”

At nine-thirty in the morning, the countdown began. In the Command Center, over three hundred technicians held their breath. On the large screen, data streams flickered constantly—all systems were normal. On the beach, hundreds of thousands of tourists held up their phones, aiming at the distant rocket.

”Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one—Ignition!”

Flames erupted from the bottom of the rocket, and the seawater instantly evaporated into white steam. The tianlong-heavy rocket slowly left the launch pad, the words ’Construction Team’ on the fairing shining brightly in the sunlight. Thirty seconds later, it pierced through the clouds, trailing a kilometer-long flame, heading straight for the heavens.

The global broadcast was watched by five billion people. The CNN anchor’s voice was trembling: ”This is the first time humanity has dispatched a Construction Team to another planet. Three robots will build houses on the Moon.” The BBC anchor added: ”If successful, this will be the greatest engineering project in the history of human civilization.”

The live comments poured in like a waterfall: ”Xingchen has opened a construction company on the Moon!” ”From now on, Xingchen will decide the real estate prices on the Moon.” ”This is ten thousand times more reliable than Musk’s Mars plan.”

At ten o’clock, the rocket and satellite separated. The three robots were slowly released into the Earth-Moon transfer orbit. They would fly through space for four months, then land in Oceanus Procellarum on the Moon to begin building houses.

Chu Tianming looked at the trajectory map on the large screen and said softly, ”In four months, there will be a Construction Team on the Moon.”

Su Chen stood by the office window, looking at the Shenzhen skyline. Lin Wan pushed the door open and entered, holding a tablet: ”Chief Su, the US Minister of Energy is getting anxious. She said on CNN that Xingchen’s ’monopoly on Helium-3’ is energy hegemony.”

Su Chen turned around, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly: ”Hegemony? We haven’t monopolized anything. The Moon is there; anyone can go and dig. The problem is—they can’t get there.”

He walked to his desk, picked up his teacup, and took a sip: ”Issue a statement. Keep it simple.”

At four o’clock in the afternoon, the official Xingchen Aerospace account posted a tweet, worded as concisely as a mathematical formula:

”Regarding the allocation principles for Helium-3:

Priority supply to partners: Russia, five European countries, Malaysia, Saudi Arabia, and other friendly nations.

Open for application: Any country can apply to purchase, subject to signing the Treaty on the Peaceful Use of Outer Space.

Unfriendly countries: Cooperation refused.

Xingchen does not monopolize Helium-3. Xingchen is only responsible for extraction. Whoever reaches the Moon first, gets it first. Fair competition.”

The tweet was retweeted five million times within an hour.

At seven o’clock in the evening, US Minister of Energy Jennifer Granholm appeared on CNN. Her expression was urgent, and her speaking speed was twice as fast as usual: ”Xingchen is practicing energy hegemony! Helium-3 is the common heritage of all mankind! Lunar resources belong to all mankind, not the private property of a single company!”

The host followed up: ”Madam Secretary, why doesn’t the US go to the Moon and dig it up themselves?”

Granholm fell silent. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Three seconds later, she said, ”We are working on it.”

The Twitter comment section exploded instantly. ”Translation: We haven’t reached the Moon yet.” ”Working on it? Working on it in a PowerPoint?” ”Common heritage of all mankind—the US used to say that about oil, too. Then they fought for twenty years in the Middle East.”

Late that night, in Washington. In the White House Situation Room, the atmosphere was as heavy as a war council. The President sat at one end of the long table, with the NASA Administrator, the Minister of Energy, the Secretary of Defense, and the Secretary of State before him. Documents were spread out on the table—Xingchen’s Helium-3 allocation principles, global broadcast screenshots of the lunar Construction Team launch, and an assessment report on the progress of the US lunar program.

NASA Administrator Bridenstine spoke first, his voice hoarse: ”The SLS Rocket’s maiden flight will be in 2024 at the earliest. A Lunar Module is impossible before 2025. A lunar base—not until after 2030.”

The President was silent for a long time. Then he asked, ”Why are Russia and Europe cooperating with Xingchen?”

The Secretary of State gave a bitter smile: ”Because they don’t want to wait.”

The next morning, in Shenzhen. Su Chen sat in his office, and on the screen before him was a leaked summary of that meeting in Washington. Lin Wan stood to the side, also watching.

”Those bureaucrats in the US are arguing,” Lin Wan said, ”they’ve been arguing all night.”

Su Chen nodded: ”Let them argue. After they’re done, they’ll still have to come to us.”

He stood up and walked to the window. The morning light of Shenzhen Bay was rising, the sea surface shimmering with golden light. Three hundred and eighty thousand kilometers away, three robots were flying toward the Moon. Their names were simple—’Construction Team No. 1,’ ’Construction Team No. 2,’ and ’Construction Team No. 3.’ No fancy names, no poetic rhetoric. They were going there to work.

In four months, they would land in Oceanus Procellarum and begin sintering lunar soil. Walls would grow from the ground, centimeter by centimeter, layer by layer. When human astronauts arrived, there would be a base waiting for them—not a tent, not a temporary shelter, but a house built from lunar soil.

Su Chen said softly, ”The Moon is not the end. It is the starting point.”

Outside the window, the sunlight was just right. That grey planet was waiting for its construction crew.