The next day, the once-infamous and universally despised “Sunan Idle Iron Triangle” gathered again (though they met weekly) in Room 804, Building 11 of Qinyuan, Meihua Villa. Like heroes reuniting after years apart, they reminisced about their wandering days across the rivers and lakes. Some people are born to change the world – whether by decimating spicy crayfish at roadside stalls or haggling desperately to save a few yuan at food stands. Amidst the clinking of glasses, greasy brilliance rippled along with the layers of belly fat – ah, these dreamlike waves, the unique waves of middle-aged men.
“Mom, Dad, I’m home.” Bai Yang finished his exams for the day and changed his shoes at the entrance. He immediately recognized the people sitting in the living room. “Uncle Zhao, Uncle Wang!”
That shining bald head was Uncle Wang.
Those tortoiseshell-framed glasses belonged to Uncle Zhao.
Wang Ning, Zhao Bowen, and his dad were chatting in the living room while his mom cooked in the kitchen.
“Not much going on lately, just one big astronomical observation project – a multinational effort studying the supermassive black hole at the center of the Milky Way… Oh, Yang Yang’s back!” Zhao Bowen looked up. “You had monthly exams today, right? How’d they go?”
“Not bad, at least I finished the English composition,” Bai Yang said, holding his backpack.
“Little Yang, show us that IC-725 of yours,” Wang Ning stood up. “Let’s see what’s going on.”
Dad and Zhao Bowen also stood up – the Iron Triangle had gathered here because of that Icon 725.
“Okay,” Bai Yang nodded. “It’s in my room.”
Last night, Bai Yang had woken his father from sleep.
His dad didn’t believe his son’s story… What’s wrong with you, waking me up in the middle of the night just to tell me tales?
Though he was groggy, his intelligence remained intact.
Bai Yang said it didn’t matter if he didn’t believe it – there was nothing he could do anyway. Just help get Uncle Wang and Uncle Zhao here; I’ll tell them, and it’s fine if they believe it.
The next day, his dad called his two older brothers. Bai Yang had repeatedly emphasized it was extremely urgent and they must come quickly. So Wang Ning and Zhao Bowen arrived together that afternoon, but they didn’t believe Bai Zhen’s story either. Old Bai, what’s wrong with you, rushing us over just to tell us stories?
Bai Zhen was helpless – it wasn’t him trying to tell stories, it was his son who wanted to tell them stories.
Bai Yang put down his backpack, sat in the chair, and skillfully turned on the radio. The yellow LCD screen lit up.
The three adults crowded into the room, standing behind him.
Wang Ning glanced at the desk. “What era is this? Why so primitive? Little Yang, why don’t you get FT8?”
“Mom doesn’t let me use computers,” Bai Yang said glumly.
“14255, right?” Wang Ning asked. “How many watts?”
“5W.”
“5W for shortwave DX?” Wang Ning clicked his tongue. “Little Yang, you like QRP?”
“I don’t dare go bigger,” Bai Yang said weakly. “I don’t even have a license. You think I wouldn’t want a 100-watt horn?”
“See? Old Bai, what have you been doing? Where’s your guardian’s responsibility?”
“Go on, stop talking nonsense.”
“Can you even do shortwave DX in this electromagnetic environment in Qinhuai District?” Zhao Bowen asked. “I haven’t touched this stuff for many years. Back when we were young, the signal was a bit better – sometimes we could reach XY and VK. How is it now?”
“We used to reach P5 too.”
“Where’s P5?”
“North Korea.”
“That was twenty years ago when we were young. It’s impossible now.” Wang Ning shook his head. “I can’t even hear what this IC-725 is saying from the Radio Commission. The electromagnetic environment is terrible.”
The three old fellows chatted among themselves.
“What’s the other station’s call sign?” Wang Ning asked.
“BG4MSR,” Dad answered.
“Have you heard of this call sign?” Zhao Bowen asked. “Is there such a person?”
“No,” Wang Ning shook his head. “This is a bit strange. Old Bai asked me about this call sign a while back too. He said Little Yang was chatting with a girl on shortwave, talking passionately, all lovey-dovey…”
“There was no passionate talking! No lovey-dovey!” Bai Yang was monitoring the channel, angrily took off his headphones and turned around to correct them, his face reddening with anger.
He glared at his dad.
With his dad’s thick skin, he was naturally bulletproof.
“Alright, alright, no passionate lovey-dovey talk, you have a pure and noble revolutionary friendship,” Wang Ning continued. “Because when Old Bai told me about this, we were drinking…”
“Drinking what?” Mom’s head ghosted silently from behind the door.
The room temperature suddenly dropped eight degrees.
The three men’s scalps tightened simultaneously as they held their breath.
“Drinking… tea,” Wang Ning said.
Mom’s cold gaze swept over the three in turn, then disappeared behind the door with a cold snort.
The three men immediately sighed in relief.
“How does Little Wen walk without making a sound,” Wang Ning asked quietly. “This is too scary.”
“Now you know,” Old Bai said softly. “I live in a horror movie every day.”
“Back to business, then what?” Zhao Bowen asked.
“We were drinking tea, and I thought Old Bai had too much – the tea polyphenols went to his head – so I didn’t take it seriously at the time. Later when I was on duty at the Radio Commission, I casually listened – on 14255 I could only hear Little Yang’s voice, he was the only one on the entire frequency. I could still recognize his voice,” Wang Ning continued. “But the signal was too poor, I never heard clearly what he was saying.”
“What about BG4MSR?” Zhao Bowen asked.
“No such person,” Wang Ning said.
“This is also what I found strange. Originally I didn’t believe it, but I can’t explain why the Radio Commission can’t hear the signal,” Bai Yang turned around, hanging the headphones around his neck. “Last time I met Uncle Wang, he said I was talking to myself on the frequency, but I was talking with BG4MSR.”
“Is it encrypted?” Zhao Bowen asked.
“Impossible,” Wang Ning and Bai Zhen shook their heads together.
“How sensitive is the monitoring at the Radio Commission?” Zhao Bowen asked.
“Full frequency coverage across the entire city,” Wang Ning said. “Unless it’s an encrypted military channel, there’s no way we can’t hear it.”
“How strange,” Zhao Bowen also found it puzzling. “Is this some new technology? Or some electromagnetic magic?”
As a physics professor, Zhao Bowen couldn’t possibly believe the time travel story. His first reaction was that it must be some new technology or some clever method that could avoid the Radio Commission’s monitoring while still being received by an old Icom 725… Zhao Bowen peered down, looking to see if there was a hidden fiber optic cable under the radio.
“Professor, what’s your opinion?” Bai Zhen asked.
“I won’t make any conclusions. Hearing is false, seeing is believing – we need to see it with our own eyes. Regardless of whether Yang Yang’s story is true or not, let’s first see what’s going on,” Zhao Bowen said. “Tonight let’s have Yang Yang try to contact BG4MSR again. If he can make contact, we need to first figure out where this signal is coming from. If we can reverse track and locate the signal source, then the truth will become clear. Yang Yang, what time do you usually connect with her?”
“After 10 PM.”
The three men simultaneously pulled out their phones and checked the time.
It was now 8:45 PM.
“Old Wang, do you have a spectrum analyzer over there?”
“Yes,” Old Wang nodded. “I’ll have the Radio Commission bring one over.”
With that, he took out his phone and dialed:
“Hello? Little Zhu? Ah yes, it’s me, it’s me. Could you help me with something… bring a spectrum analyzer over, the big one, on the shelf by my desk, the white one. Yes, yes, deliver it to Meihua Villa complex, Mushu Garden Street. Good, good, thanks!”
Old Wang was just the type of inconsiderate leader who would call people to assign tasks after 8 PM.