Sorry, My Beloved Is The Motherland

In an instant, the classroom fell into silence.
The students below had no idea what had happened. The old professor had stopped after reading just one name, leaving them all curious as they waited expectantly.
They were not familiar with Zhu Peiqing, but upon seeing the department head’s respect and admiration for him, they began to take him seriously in their hearts as well.
What kind of first lesson would this unremarkable-looking old man, whose temples were already streaked with white, give them?
The department chair was also a bit puzzled. He stepped forward and gently reminded, “Professor?”
Zhu Peiqing’s gaze lingered on the girl’s face for a few seconds before slowly lowering back to the roster and calling out the next name.
This young girl sure is bold.
— Seeing him look at her, she met his gaze without the slightest fear.
Ning Fu: Why does this Professor Zhu look a little familiar? Let me take a closer look…
After finishing the roll call, Zhu Peiqing placed the roster by his side, resting his palm over it with great care and solemnity, and said, “Welcome, everyone.”
“You are all promising talents, and the country needs you now more than ever.”
This lesson wasn’t about specialized knowledge or academic background—Zhu Peiqing had come to tell a story.

His ancestral home was in Fujian, and he was born in 1923. His youth was spent in an era of relentless warfare.
“At that time, everyone was called upon to donate money and supplies to support the war effort. I was still young and often fantasized—since we already had artillery shells that could shoot down enemy planes, why couldn’t we have even bigger, longer-range shells that could fly all the way to the invaders’ homeland, striking fear into them and making them too terrified to attack?”
Zhu Peiqing chuckled and said, “At that time, such giants already existed—but our country didn’t have them.”
“Tell me, how could that be acceptable?”
With the motherland weak and frail, he made a vow as a child—to master his studies and build one of these ‘giants’ himself.
At the age of 26, Zhu Peiqing returned from studying abroad, and the newly founded China welcomed him with open arms like a mother.
In return, he devoted all his time, talent, and effort to the endeavor of building the “giant.”
A nation’s sharp blade is forged by many smiths—he was just one among them.
In the late 1950s, China began developing missiles. After years of effort, on November 5, 1960, China successfully launched its first domestically replicated short-range missile. In early March 1962, the first missile independently designed by China was transported to the Jiuquan launch site. On March 21, the missile launch failed. After a thorough review, the root cause of the problem was identified. On June 29, 1964, the redesigned missile test was a complete success.
A lot happened after that. In 1974, Zhu Peiqing was sent to a rural middle school in Tulaga County, where he was assigned to guard the school gate.
His job was nothing more than watching the gate, sweeping up trash, and picking up unused paper to take back to his small shack.
No one in the area knew that this cheerful old man, always wearing a smile, had once been a key figure under the famed pioneers of China’s nuclear and missile programs at the Ministry of National Defense’s Fifth Research Institute.
He was an optimist. For two years, he worked as a school janitor. In the third year, he also took on the role of a substitute teacher. But in all those three years, not for a single moment did he forget that he was an aerospace scientist.
Yet, he never spoke of any of this.
The hardships, the suffering, the life of anonymity—these were things they had long since taken as ordinary.
He only spoke of the ecstatic tears when a rocket soared into the sky, of the thunderous roar of a ballistic missile slicing through the heavens, and of the blinding flash when an air-to-air missile struck its target…
He spoke of grand, tumultuous waves. He spoke of soaring ambitions that reached the clouds.
The classroom was utterly silent—so quiet that even a crow wouldn’t caw. Everyone was completely engrossed.
Though Zhu Peiqing’s storytelling was plain and straightforward, without exaggeration or excessive rhetoric, his calm and steady narration stirred something deep within every listener. A surging heat rushed through their veins, making every hair on their body stand on end, roaring through their chests with an uncontainable force.
Every single one of them couldn’t help but imagine—if they had been born in that era, how would they serve their country? How would they dedicate themselves, body and soul, to the nation?
How would they become heroes in the midst of turbulent times, developing cutting-edge missiles and establishing a powerful strategic deterrent…
Zhu Peiqing looked at these eager young faces, their hands itching for action, and smiled.
“The country is counting on you to achieve great things. Do you have the confidence?!”
A resounding chorus erupted from the students below:
“Yes!”
Zhu Peiqing chuckled heartily and announced the end of class.
Standing beside him, the department head couldn’t help but voice his concern, “Professor, giving them such a rousing start right away… will that be alright?”
“If we get them all fired up now, letting them dream day and night about becoming heroes and making great contributions, they’ll soon hit the many hurdles of this profession. When reality pours cold water over them again and again, I’m afraid their enthusiasm will burn out just as quickly.”
Zhu Peiqing chuckled, “They’re still young. If I had told you back then that our main work would be endless calculations, piles of blueprints, and eating sand day and night at the launch site, would you still have been willing to follow me?”
“A newborn calf doesn’t fear the tiger. What it fears is monotony.”
The department head suddenly understood. “So you’re tricking them onto the pirate ship first, and then—”
Zhu Peiqing cast a calm glance at his overly blunt student. The other immediately corrected himself, “You’re right. If they can’t persevere, then they’re not cut out for this field anyway.”
“Ning Fu, stay behind.”
Just as everyone was about to leave the classroom, the department head suddenly spoke up.
Ning Fu recognized him immediately—he was one of the teachers who had come to her house for the political review that day, the one who had praised her for “colorful clothes to amuse her parents.”*
“This student, Xiao Ning, I personally went to her house for the review. Not only are her grades outstanding, but she also has a lively and cheerful personality,” the department chair introduced Ning Fu to Zhu Peiqing with great enthusiasm. “She’s sure to become a key member of the class’s arts and cultural activities.”

T/N: * “彩衣娱亲” (cǎi yī yú qīn) literally translates to “colorful clothes to entertain one’s parents.” – This phrase comes from a famous story in “The Twenty-Four Filial Exemplars” (二十四孝), a classic Chinese text that teaches filial piety. The story tells of Lao Laizi (老莱子), who, even in old age, would wear colorful clothes and play like a child to make his elderly parents laugh, showing his deep respect and devotion to them.
In modern usage, it metaphorically means filial piety expressed through bringing joy and happiness to one’s parents, often by being cheerful, considerate, or entertaining.
Also, ‘Xiao’ is added before a person’s name to refer to them as affectionately and if they are younger or kids. – (like saying Little Ning)

Having full confidence in the promising student he had handpicked, the department head presented Ning Fu like a treasure, urging, “Come on over, Professor Zhu wants to have a few words with you.”
Ning Fu suddenly remembered.
She glanced sympathetically at the department head, deeply sensing that whatever Zhu Peiqing was about to say wouldn’t make him happy.
“Literary and artistic backbone? Is she a vocal major or a dance major?” Zhu Peiqing said, neither salty nor bland*.
T/N : a tone that is indifferent, lukewarm, or neutral
Sure enough, here it comes.
The poor department head was inexplicably scolded. Though unwilling to accept it, he didn’t dare talk back and could only awkwardly say, “That was my mistake.”
God knows he just wanted to emphasize that, in an entire department full of male students who could almost film Shaolin’s 108 Arhats*, having an outstanding and lively female student was a good thing, wasn’t it?
T/N : a reference to a famous Shaolin martial arts legend, meaning the department is full of strong male students.
Feeling wronged.jpg
After roasting his prized student, Zhu Peiqing turned to Ning Fu and his tone was still considered mild, “We meet again.”
Ning Fu: “Hello, Professor Zhu. Is it still in time for me to apologize now?”
Zhu Peiqing, with great interest, asked, “Where were you wrong?”
Wrong for pretending to show off blindly….
Who would have thought that a plain and unremarkable proctor like you would turn out to be the future leading figure in missile launch research?
Ning Fu, honestly and obediently, said, “I was wrong for speaking arrogant words.”
Zhu Peiqing laughed.
“You don’t actually think you were wrong. You’re just worried that you left a bad impression on me, isn’t it?”
Ning Fu: I am not, didn’t, don’t talk nonsense.
The department head at the side also noticed something was off and asked softly, “You two have met before?”