"Smooth sailing" was the overwhelming sentiment across China regarding the years from 1925 to 1928. Judging by the traditional habits of Chinese agriculture, life was getting better day by day. Wherever railways reached, the changes in life were even faster. National hygiene campaigns, national science popularization campaigns, and national legal awareness campaigns were repeated every year. Aside from that, it was just work, work, work!

Affordable cloth and farming tools no longer surprised the laborers; after working their hearts out, they could now afford bicycles, watches, and radios. If they worked well, they were even eligible to apply for loans to buy products like tractors.

The masses also discovered they had a new privilege: "reviewing cadre work." The review method was unique; everything the cadres said was recorded, and at the end of every year, a general assembly was held where the people evaluated whether the cadres had fulfilled their promises. In the People's Party's words, this was called "seeking truth from facts"—the government itself could not speak nonsense.

If the people saw something they didn't like, they could report or complain to the People's Congress. Every month, the People's Congress would publish a batch of public opinions, determining whose proposals, reports, or complaints would be formally discussed. After each session, there would be some feedback.

For the people, the significance of this was limited; at most, it was something to watch. What the rural masses cared about were the movies shown once a week and the various technical services provided by the agricultural technology service companies—how to harvest more grain, how to buy more cheap goods, and the many fresh products brought by the service teams each time.

Crucially, it was about whether they could join engineering teams during the slack farming season and participate in construction projects everywhere. The grain purchase price had risen somewhat in these three years, from twenty cents to thirty-five cents. Even so, for rural families, this income growth could not keep up with family needs. To make money, they relied on joining urban engineering construction more during the slack season. That was a livelihood calculated by the day; although it was tiring, the money earned in three months was more than what they earned from farming all year.

The feelings of urban residents were relatively more complex; the biggest feeling was the issue of wage increases. The scale of cities was getting larger and larger, and the number of factories was increasing, yet wage income increased limitedly. Those in agriculture at least had the income from their land; those in industry had no such good fortune. If there was no work this month, there would be no food next month. Although every family had some savings to last a few months, with more and more new things appearing, pockets seemed increasingly empty.

As for the civil service system, the object of their greatest dissatisfaction was probably the Central Committee led by Chairman Chen Ke—there were too many damn rules. Traditionally, becoming an official meant being high and mighty, having power and money. In reality, the days of civil servants were not easy; they truly had "the worry of selling white powder, but the income of selling cabbage." All day long, after learning new systems themselves, they had to explain various systems to the people. After the People's Congress finally obtained the "right of supervision," the civil service system faced the threat of complaints every day.

People slowly got used to these annoyances. The fact that everyone felt was that compared to a dozen years ago, life was truly different. The entire China had become unfamiliar. The China of the past had not changed much for decades; tomorrow was just a simple repetition of yesterday. Now, every tomorrow would be somewhat different from yesterday. It might be new goods, new factories, new systems, or even new lifestyles.

For example, the private catering and hairdressing industries in the cities were the most obvious. In the past, the lifespan of a restaurant would be at least around three years. As urbanization progressed, the number of restaurants increased dozens of times, truly having the flavor of "you finish singing and I take the stage." The average lifespan of restaurants plummeted to less than a year and a half, and in many large cities, the lifespan of restaurants even fell to less than a year. If you didn't make money, you were finished. While consumers didn't care much about this bloody competitive reality—they just chose the restaurants they liked—in the eyes of the labor and employment departments, these were two completely different matters.

More than one person within the Party was already questioning whether Chen Ke was engaging in communism or socialism. The core of China's economic policy was expanding employment, not creating a purely "XXX" state. Whether state-owned or private enterprises, as long as they could expand employment, regardless of whether they were private ownership or not, policy allowed their existence. Chen Ke did not produce any profound theories; he just put forward one view: "Industrialization and urbanization will inevitably sweep the entire China into them; we must survive this period."

The old revolutionaries were noncommittal about this. Some young cadres were very puzzled by Chen Ke's "unrevolutionary" attitude. Industrialization brought countless new contradictions, and young cadres had to face these complex contradictions directly. The old revolutionaries almost stayed in the local areas for long periods; apart from recording, listening, and asking, they said nothing. Every year or half-year, after they returned to the upper levels, new systems and regulations would be promulgated. Some poorly performing young cadres would also suffer. Those with quick minds were promoted quickly. But they were always the minority; for most cadres, they couldn't even understand what exactly had happened to society.

By the beginning of 1928, there were several trends within the Party. The more mainstream trend was that everyone asked Chairman Chen Ke to propose a standard that would be "unchanging for ten thousand generations," a system that could be strictly unchanged for eternity. Even if this eternal system had to be relearned by everyone, people felt it would be much better than the current chaotic situation.

At this time, Chen Ke was inspecting work in Hebei, and there were also some changes in the high levels of the People's Party. Yan Fu passed away in December 1927. Before his death, Yan Fu held the hand of Chen Ke, who had come to visit, and grabbed the hand of Sa Zhenbing, who was also before the sickbed. With old tears streaming down his face, he said, "I have run about for the country all my life; after recovering Korea, I have no regrets in death. I have only one request: scatter my ashes in Dadonggou after I die. So many comrades-in-arms and students were left there; when I go to the netherworld, I can personally tell them that the shame of Korea has been washed away. Gentlemen, you can rest in peace."

The old man did not make requests like annihilating the Japanese fleet. Chen Ke was very moved by this. To be able to accept defeat—this was Yan Fu's heroism. "Commander Sa and I will go to Dadonggou personally."

Sa Zhenbing held Yan Fu's thin hand, also with tears streaming down his face. "Brother Jidao, you go a step ahead. After I die, I will also be buried in Dadonggou to keep you all company. If there is good news, I will also bring it to you all personally."

Yan Fu's memorial service was simple and solemn. Yan Fu's body, lying amidst flowers, was covered with the Party flag. Party and state leaders personally attended and presided over the memorial service.

However, the burial ceremony was not so relaxed. Theoretically, Yan Fu's children had the greatest say, but no one dared to fight for this decision-making power with Chen Ke, "Yan Fu's disciple." Chen Ke, however, could not rashly change arrangements because of Yan Fu's affairs. By January 1928, after Chen Ke went south to inspect work, he reviewed the South Sea Fleet at the Zhanjiang Naval Base in Guangdong, then went north with the main force of the South Sea Fleet to Qingdao to join the Yellow Sea Fleet. The flagships of the two fleets were China's two battleships, hull numbers 1025 and 1026. Naval comrades had asked about the significance of such hull numbering. Chen Ke's answer was: "In the future, our warships will number over a thousand; it won't be enough without four-digit hull numbers."

When the Yellow Sea Fleet participated in the training and sea burial, the hull number of the ship with the second-largest tonnage was very subtle; it was actually an aircraft carrier numbered 0004. This aircraft carrier had a displacement of 15,000 tons and adopted a completely new design idea. It had a single-sided island command tower, a full teak flight deck, a 15-degree upward ski-jump on the takeoff end, three elevators, and auxiliary takeoff acceleration devices powered by high-pressure gas. Although its tonnage was much smaller than existing American and Japanese carriers, after eliminating naval guns for artillery battles and heavy armor, its aircraft capacity was as high as 48 planes.

This design idea was completely different from the thick armor and large-caliber artillery of traditional navies; only Chen Ke could push through all objections to finalize the design. China's two major fleets conducted a large-scale exercise according to plan. During the exercise, Chen Ke's flagship was not the two battleships, but the aircraft carrier. This was an experimental warship completely designed by China itself. The naval upper echelon even knew that the various logistics personnel wearing colored vests running on the carrier, and even some exaggerated body signal languages, were all established by Chen Ke. Even the positions of those judges who determined if planes could land, and even some of the judges' standards, were completed under Chen Ke's instructions. They all knew clearly that for the structure of the future People's Navy, Central Military Commission Chairman Chen Ke already had his own ideas.

After the exercise, it was finally time for Yan Fu's burial ceremony. Chen Ke, however, switched to a battleship. This attention to detail moved the naval officers and men. Chen Ke was the creator of the Workers' and Peasants' Revolutionary Army, and Yan Fu was undoubtedly one of the creators of the People's Navy; the middle and high-ranking commanders of the navy were basically all Principal Yan's students. Everyone knew clearly that between aircraft carriers and battleships, Yan Fu was undoubtedly more passionate about battleships. And Chen Ke's choice to scatter Yan Fu's ashes from a battleship was also a form of true respect.

In the waters of Dadonggou, the Workers' and Peasants' Revolutionary Army March played from the high-pitched speakers on the battleship. Yan Fu's children scattered Yan Fu's ashes mixed with flower petals onto this sad place for the Chinese navy. Theoretically, Chen Ke was a retired soldier; he and the commanders and fighters used a military salute to pay tribute to this senior who had dedicated his life to the Chinese navy.

On January 22, 1928, after Chen Ke landed in Tianjin, he arrived in Beijing, the provincial capital of Hebei. Shang Yuan was inspecting the north; the two met at this time, preparing to return to Zhengzhou together.

The train would not leave for another half day, and it happened to be New Year's Eve. Neither Chen Ke nor Shang Yuan were people who liked bustling scenes. They didn't attend the New Year's greeting meeting. After listening to Chen Ke simply introduce Yan Fu's funeral, Shang Yuan suddenly proposed, "Let's go visit Teacher Li Hongqi. Teacher will be a bit happier if the two of us go."

"You mean *you* will be a bit happier," Chen Ke laughed.

"It's all the same," Shang Yuan sighed.

In 1928, there was naturally no so-called global warming issue; on New Year's Eve, it snowed just like in previous years. Every household was naturally celebrating the New Year in a lively manner. The car Chen Ke and Shang Yuan rode in stopped at the entrance of the cemetery under the curtain of night; the surroundings were truly quiet.

The snowy night sky was actually quite bright. Without the pressure of government affairs, Chen Ke felt in a good mood, and Shang Yuan looked very relaxed too. The only problem was that Shang Yuan was nearly 60; this revolutionary who started as a Qing Dynasty *Juren* clearly didn't have the stamina of the 48-year-old Chen Ke. Chen Ke matched Shang Yuan's pace, walking slowly on the soft accumulated snow in the silent, unmanned cemetery.

Neither wanted to talk about government affairs. Shang Yuan said slowly, "Teacher passed away five years ago. I remember his death anniversary is in a few days. But I haven't been to see Teacher even once; today I can finally come and take a look."

"It's pretty much like the last time we saw Teacher Li, just the two of us," Chen Ke replied nostalgically.

"Say, Wenqing, how will we be buried after we die?" Shang Yuan asked.

Chen Ke smiled: "You, well, you should be able to be cremated and buried. I don't know about me. Anyway, after death, it's just a pile of meat; the Party committee can handle it however they like."

Even if these two didn't want to talk about government affairs, no matter what, it was impossible to avoid government affairs. Shang Yuan also slowly replied, "You mean like Comrade Lenin."

Chen Ke had absolutely no fear of death. He replied, "When a person is dead, why think so much. After death, one should just sleep quietly; where is the logic in the dead worrying about the living."

Hearing Chen Ke speak so lightly, Shang Yuan couldn't help but laugh: "It seems Teacher Li said something similar too."

Li Hongqi's grave was very simple—a very ordinary position among rows of tight tombstones, a very ordinary tombstone. The tombstone was covered with snow, and the front was empty with nothing. Shang Yuan was suddenly stunned. Chen Ke immediately replied, "We didn't bring tools for sweeping the grave; let's just wipe the tombstone."

After speaking, Chen Ke untied the scarf from his neck and handed it to Shang Yuan; he himself used his wool gloves. Neither were particular people; after wiping the tombstone vigorously, Chen Ke patted the snow off the scarf and wound it back around his neck. Standing in front of the tombstone for a moment, Shang Yuan finally couldn't help but say, "Wenqing, you should be very clear about the wind direction within the Party recently."