Chapter 11: Conning Li Xiaoman into a Cripple

Snowflakes tapped softly against the third-floor windows of the villa, Lin Ran’s breath condensing into mist between the heater and his cup, his mind filled entirely with the Fabian Society’s emblem engraved with a ram and a turtle.

Before Li Xiaoman could react, Lin Ran continued rapidly:

“Although the entire plan sounds utterly incredible, it is indeed what I intend to do next.”

“And I have full confidence I can accomplish it.”

“The entire grand plan begins with just one small favor from you.”

Li Xiaoman suddenly interrupted: “Crazy Thursday? I’ll V you 50?”

January 2, 2020, happened to be a Thursday.

Having known Lin Ran for nearly two years, Li Xiaoman was very familiar with this domestic Chinese internet meme.

Seeing this, Lin Ran knew Li Xiaoman’s inner anger had not been triggered—this was crucial:

“If you want to V me 50, that’s fine too.”

“But right now I only need you to do me one small favor; afterward, I’ll gradually prove everything I’ve said is true.”

“All I need now is for you to lend me the Fabian Society emblem and your Corolla—I need to review some historical archives, draft a preliminary plan, then go to Blue Origin.”

Though already exhausted, and though Lin Ran’s request was so simple, Li Xiaoman’s meticulous nature compelled her to demand an explanation.

Her gaze toward Lin Ran grew even sharper:

“This makes no sense. The Fabian Society is a humanities and social sciences club—I don’t understand the connection.”

“Restarting lunar landing requires rocket engineers, not Frankfurt School critics of instrumental rationality!”

“Even if you truly could find a way from historical data to enable America to redo the Apollo mission, you’d need to seek NASA’s archived materials—not use the Fabian Society to contact Frankfurt School scholars.”

“Unless… you’re planning to sell the emblem to Moritz?”

Lin Ran rolled his eyes: “Think about it—would you sell your own family’s item to your cousin? Would he pay you?”

“Wouldn’t he just assume it’s rightfully his?”

Moritz, son of Li Xiaoman’s uncle and thus her cousin, worked at Citibank in New York.

To those in the know, the Fabian Society emblem held immense value—it was either an artifact or a token, depending on who held it.

When Lin Ran found the emblem, Li Xiaoman had been so delighted not only because it was a family relic, but because the emblem could serve as a bridge to access Frankfurt School resources.

The most direct example: obtaining a recommendation letter from a Frankfurt School heavyweight, securing an internship at a top law firm—this was proof of noble lineage, even if the family had fallen from grace, it was still noble lineage.

America valued family heritage far more than China did.

Similarly, the emblem held great value for Li Xiaoman—and just as much for her cousin Li Mozen (English name: Moritz). They were both Lis; if I obtained it, I could naturally leverage the Frankfurt School connection.

That was why Li Xiaoman harbored such suspicion.

Fortunately, Lin Ran understood Li Xiaoman well, and had already prepared his response:

“Of course, NASA has already publicly released all technical documents from sixty years ago. What I need to find isn’t technical data—I need to visit university archives to identify who participated in the project back then.”

“I need to locate several key individuals and interview them face-to-face to confirm critical technical details.”

“This is the missing puzzle piece to restart the entire Apollo mission.”

“Of course, I’m not certain whether these puzzle pieces still exist—or whether I can reconstruct the entire Apollo program from them.”

After Lin Ran finished speaking, Li Xiaoman remained skeptical.

Lin Ran added: “Two months. I only need two months to draft a plan convincing enough for Blue Origin!”

With a 60-to-1 time flow ratio, two months here equaled 120 months—ten years—in the 1960s. Lin Ran had given himself ample buffer time.

“Fine, I’ll reluctantly believe you this once.”

“Even if you truly convince Blue Origin you can do it, there are still problems to solve.”

“First, tell me—after graduation, are you planning to return to China or stay here?”

Lin Ran answered decisively: “Return to China!”

“I’ll use Blue Origin to earn my first capital, then go back. You know I love aerospace, not computers—I want to work in aerospace. Now that I have a chance to secure initial funding in America, of course I want to return and build something back home.”

“Being Chinese in America is still too sensitive. If I tried to pursue aerospace here, I’d spend all my time dealing with investigations, with no time left for real work.”

He came to America for a computer science PhD to earn money—but now, with the ability to travel to 1960, he could achieve both wealth and idealism. He couldn’t think of a single reason not to return.

He had no interest in helping foreigners build America.

Li Xiaoman lowered her eyelids, appearing somewhat disappointed—she hadn’t prepared herself to go to China—but quickly rallied:

“Alright, I’ll assume you can actually pull it off. But there are still several hurdles to overcome.”

“First: how do we contact Blue Origin’s executives to get them to give us a chance?”

“Given America’s current manufacturing and cost structure, to get Blue Origin to invest resources, we’d need to reach at least a vice president.”

“Second: your identity. As a Chinese citizen leading a lunar return mission, America wouldn’t see it as a triumph—it might even be seen as a humiliation. At that point, you’d face accusations—most notably, technology theft—and you might never be allowed to return to China.”

“Third: your visa. You hold an F-1 visa, which prohibits employment at a company—you can’t work for Blue Origin. Second, while you can register a company under this visa, it’s only permitted for preliminary planning, not actual operations, and you cannot receive salary or income from it.”

“This last issue is small, but deadly.”

“You need to understand how massive a cake you’re trying to cut.”

“If Blue Origin succeeds in returning to the moon, what happens to NASA? If NASA abandons its program, $26 billion is wasted.”

“If NASA continues, and Blue Origin wins the lunar return contract, you’ve indirectly antagonized a competitor.”

“Put simply—any misstep in any stage of this process could land you in an extremely difficult situation. The mildest outcome? You’d be unable to return to China for a very long time.”

“Illegal employment would be the most direct charge against you.”

Lin Ran replied calmly: “Correct. I know all this—that’s precisely why this is a partnership.”

“You handle these problems for me; I handle the technical challenges.”

“Xiaoman-jie, you’re not trying to trap me here in America on purpose, are you?”