Chapter 24: If I Can

It wasn’t hard to guess that America would land on the moon; virtually all media discussions about spaceflight mentioned what America needed to do to catch up with Russia.

Landing on the moon was a popular option.

From academia to the aerospace industry, numerous experts and professors proposed that we should go straight for a lunar landing.

Even some government officials in Washington, speaking from personal perspective, had suggested that the White House should launch a lunar program.

Anyone with even a little thought could easily conclude that landing on the moon was the White House’s only option.

But connecting all these dots—from his identity to his purpose—and laying it out so convincingly, as if he could see straight through his thoughts, that was far too difficult.

John Morgan was already doing his best to control his expression, trying not to appear uncomposed; in his mind, he kept repeating a view from the Jewish Talmud: “Only by mastering your emotions can you prevail in all things; only by controlling yourself can you control others.”

As a noble among America’s nobility, John Morgan had received traditional Western elite education since childhood and understood the critical importance of holding the initiative in negotiations—he had done exactly that in this conversation.

From the very beginning, he had tried to gather as much basic information about Lin Ran as possible, all to secure the upper hand.

But after meeting him, he realized the man was as deep as the ocean—everything he knew amounted to barely a scratch, “Are all mathematicians this terrifying? Can they deduce with such precision?”

He didn’t deny it: “Correct, that is precisely why I’m here.”

“Professor, I can provide you with an environment that satisfies your personal interests, allowing you to fully unleash your talent.”

Lin Ran asked: “What’s the compensation? You haven’t mentioned compensation yet.”

John Morgan, seeing the professor didn’t object, calmed down inside—willingness to talk was a good sign; after all, both sides needed to build a cooperative relationship:

“An initial compensation of one hundred thousand dollars. If our final proposal gains NASA’s approval, the compensation will rise to two hundred thousand dollars.”

Further compensation will be discussed later.

This compensation was already astronomical at the time, since Lin Ran was merely a consultant—special consultants rarely earned two hundred thousand dollars.

But Lin Ran was clearly unsatisfied: “Not enough.”

“I can guarantee that General Electric will win this project. I don’t need money—money to me is just a number.”

“What I need is control of the project. I need to be the lead of this project. Everyone must answer to me.”

“Actually, I want equity.”

Lin Ran gave the man no chance to interrupt:

“I know General Electric’s equity is impossible—I want General Aerospace.”

“There’s still time before the project begins. All you need to do is spin off General Electric’s aerospace division. We’ll use this newly formed aerospace company to bid.”

“From feasibility study to final lunar landing, we set up a stepwise goal: I want thirty percent of General Aerospace’s equity in total.”

“When the feasibility study passes, I want ten percent; when the spacecraft lands successfully on the moon, I want another ten percent; when the crewed lunar landing succeeds, I want the final ten percent.”

“Think it over carefully—whether this cooperation model is viable.”

“If it is, contact me anytime. But move quickly—once the feasibility study passes, if you don’t spin off the aerospace division, this business may no longer be yours.”

“When you’ve decided, call me.”

Lin Ran drained the coffee on the table and turned to leave. John Morgan sat frozen, his expression shifting between dark and light. He asked: “Professor, are you really that confident?”

Lin Ran didn’t turn back: “If I can’t do it, then no one on Earth can.”

“Here, take your badge back.”

Returning to 2020, Lin Ran felt something strange.

In 1960, he was the famous Chinese-American mathematics professor, the Chinese luminary who proved Fermat’s Last Theorem—everyone on Columbia University’s campus greeted him, and he casually manipulated elites like John Morgan as if they were pawns.

In 2020, he was merely a nobody living on the third floor of a Chinese-American family’s villa, with no special qualities except the ability to flex online in Chinese-language forums; his major was one of the worst in computer science—but now things were different.

Li Xiaoman took the badge from Lin Ran, sniffed it, and from its scent alone knew she hadn’t been mistaken—it was her family’s ancestral badge. “Already done?”

Lin Ran shook his head: “We’ve only taken the first step. I’ve merely verified my hypothesis. Now we wait to turn that hypothesis into reality.”

“Come on, help me move these things back to my room. All we need to do now is slowly piece the puzzle together.”

Li Xiaoman followed Lin Ran downstairs, glanced at the Corolla’s trunk, and saw it was packed full of books and bound printed materials.

She flipped through them roughly:

“Heaven and Earth: A Political History of the Space Age,” “Military Space: U.S. Policy (1945–1984),” “Missiles and the Space Race,” “Challenging Apollo: Russia and the Space Race (1945–1947),” “Russia’s ‘Sputnik-1’ Satellite and the Space Challenge,” “Russia’s Space Race and the Apollo Lunar Program,” “Under the Shadow of Russia’s Satellite: America in the Cold War and the President’s Science Advisory Committee,” “The Russia Satellite Crisis and Early U.S. Space Policy,” “Russia’s Satellite: A Century’s Shock,” “The Challenge of Russia’s Satellite,” “The Space Race: From Russia’s Satellite to Apollo and Beyond…”

From the title pages, it was clear these were all books borrowed from Columbia University’s library.

She flipped through the printed materials and found they were detailed technical documents—beyond common rocket and lander designs, even the circuit diagrams used for spacecraft docking at the time had been printed out.

The entire trunk was completely filled.

This time, Li Xiaoman truly believed: Lin Ran intended to recreate the Apollo lunar landing right now.

Otherwise, why go through all this trouble?

These materials filled Lin Ran’s room to bursting—there wasn’t even space to stand.

“Randolph, about what you mentioned earlier, I’ve thought of some ways to mitigate the risks.” Li Xiaoman hadn’t been idle during this time.

Lin Ran signaled her to continue.

“First, visa restrictions: the F-1 visa doesn’t permit work. That’s easy to solve.”

“After I establish my company, my company will partner with Blue Origin. I’ll then invest the payment from Blue Origin into you through an angel investment fund I set up.”

That’s simple—on paper, there will be no trace linking you to this project.”

“Even between you and me, there won’t be a contract.”

“As for your concern that I might abscond with the money—that’s impossible. If this project ever gets exposed, everyone involved will be finished.”

“Under the U.S. federal ITAR list, rocket propulsion is strictly prohibited.”