The storm-clouds broke and the rain subsided, leaving the sky crystalline and the landscape bathed in brilliance.
At the horizon, the setting sun bled its hues into the clouds, while the deep blue lake mirrored the jagged silhouette of the snow-capped peaks. The wake of the cruise ship finally snapped the tourists out of their trance, only for them to drift back into the bliss of the emerald waves and the rhythmic pulse of a cool, evening breeze.
Sunset, glowing clouds, snow mountains, emerald waves, cool breeze, and a luxury liner.
It was a scene of breathtaking beauty, wanting only for the flight of a few stray birds to be perfect. Had a poet been present, they would surely have been overcome by inspiration; alas, there were no masters like Li Bai or Du Fu among the travelers. The majesty of the view was met not with verse, but with a relentless chorus of blunt, rhythmic profanities.
The lack of elegance finally prompted Yue Yuan to recite a line of his own, seeking to give voice to his inner thoughts.
"A lone plume of smoke rises straight in the desert; the setting sun hangs round over the long river."
The lines were classic, the imagery profound—but it was a total mismatch for the scenery before them.
The recitation immediately drew a wave of bewildered stares, as if the other passengers were collectively thinking: What kind of gibberish is that? Our swearing was more poetic than this.
A total mood killer.
Across the deck, men and women shook their heads in silent judgment. No one seemed willing to engage with someone so socially tone-deaf; after a moment of quiet disdain, they returned to their view. On a commercial cruise, such reactions were the status quo.
But there are always outliers. Just as Yue Yuan withdrew his gaze and turned to head back to the cabin, a voice as crisp as a warbler’s song caught his step.
"A fine poem. Using Wang Wei to describe this place might seem like a stretch, but it carries a certain nostalgic weight—using the past to mourn the past. You must be a history buff."
Using the past to mourn the past...
It was a peculiar phrasing, but it struck a chord with Yue Yuan. That was exactly what he had been feeling.
He turned toward the voice. Leaning against the bow railing was a woman with delicate, lovely features, her eyes locked onto his.
"I know a little, here and there," Yue Yuan replied, walking toward her. He offered a casual greeting: "Part of a tour group?"
"No, just here with some classmates. It's the holidays, and we thought we’d come see the world-famous 'Vast Sea' for ourselves." She gave a sweet smile, showing a flash of pearly teeth.
She seemed naturally extroverted—or perhaps she was simply being friendly because Yue Yuan was a particularly handsome man.
Seeing the stranger approach, she didn't shy away. Instead, she gave a small, welcoming wave. "And you? Are you with a group?"
"No. I'm heading to the Plateau Region. I figured I’d take the chance to see the Vast Sea while passing through." Yue Yuan was honest about his route, though he left out his specific business.
He moved naturally to the railing, resting his hands on the edge to her right. He stole a quick glance; she was about a head shorter than him, roughly 1.6 meters tall.
"And how should I call you?"
The woman turned, mimicking his stance at the railing. She blinked playfully. "Shouldn't you introduce yourself before asking for a name?"
"Fair point," Yue Yuan paused, meeting her mischievous gaze with a dry cough. "Yue Yuan. Yue as in mountain, Yuan as in abyss."
"Xu Yanqi! Xu as in Xu Yanqi, Yan as in Xu Yanqi, and Qi as in Xu Yanqi. Haha!"
The girl looked quite pleased with herself for successfully teasing him. As she laughed, Yue Yuan noticed a pair of shallow dimples on her cheeks.
She didn't offer a more formal explanation of her name. Instead, she turned back to the horizon, her tone shifting to one of wonder as she looked at the water. "It’s still hard to believe this place used to be a desert."
She was right. This was once the Taklamakan—the "Place of No Return." Situated in the heart of the Tarim Basin, it was once the largest inland desert on the planet.
The term Hanhai—the Vast Sea—had historically been a poetic name for the desert’s shifting sands. Now, applied to this massive inland sea, it felt like a prophecy fulfilled.
This was the crowning achievement of the Hanhai Engineering Project.
Fifty years ago, in 2053, a nation bolstered by a second industrial revolution finally transformed a theoretical blueprint into reality. They launched the ultimate iteration of the Western Development initiative: the diversion of Tibetan waters into Xinjiang.
The waters of the Yarlung Tsangpo were tamed and redirected to irrigate the Taklamakan.
To do it, the China utilized world-tier engineering to dam the Yarlung Tsangpo. Over thirty years of grueling work, they bored a gargantuan tunnel through the earth in multiple sections from south to north.
The result was a subterranean artery over a thousand kilometers long and thirty meters wide. Through it, the lifeblood of the mountains flowed into the desert.
The project cost exceeded 100 trillion RMB—more than a thousand times the cost of the Three Gorges Dam and four hundred times the original South-to-North Diversion. When accounting for the infrastructure, the mass relocations, and the conversion of desert highways into state-of-the-art lakebed tunnels, the price was even higher. But the geopolitical and ecological dividends were undeniable.
The Tarim Basin is walled in by the Tianshan, Kunlun, and Altyn-Tagh ranges, creating a natural bowl that is high in the west and low in the east.
As the Taklamakan transformed into the Vast Sea, the surrounding mountains trapped the rising moisture. Combined with seasonal snowmelt, this created a massive, C-shaped oasis along the basin’s rim.
To the east, the prevailing northwest winds carried moisture toward the Qilian Mountains. The range acted as a net, catching the clouds and significantly increasing rainfall in the Hexi Corridor. For the first time in millennia, the region was restored to the lush, fertile grassland that had once nourished the ancestors of the Qin.
The moisture that cleared the mountains continued east and north, blocked by the Yin, Helan, and Altai ranges. The climates of the Badain Jaran and Tengger deserts shifted violently. Over time, the sands were reclaimed by a sprawling green oasis.
The excess moisture even reached the Loess Plateau, bolstering the flow of the Yellow River.
Furthermore, the stabilization of the Yarlung Tsangpo meant that Southwest Asia—regions like Bangladesh—were finally spared from the catastrophic monsoon floods of the past. Even the Ganges stopped its seasonal rampages. It was a feat of engineering so massive it was hailed as a "light of humanity."
And, as a side effect, it had turned a wasteland into a premiere travel destination, giving Yue Yuan the chance to experience the surreal sensation of a ship sailing over a former desert.
"It is a grand era," Yue Yuan said, responding to her awe.
Xu Yanqi’s eyes were full of ambition. "It is. I’m actually planning to work here after I graduate."
"As a guide?"
"Hardly! I'm a graduate researcher in biodiversity. I’m going to start my career right here in the Basin."
When the climate shifts on such a tectonic scale, life migrates with it. It was a frontier for biological and climatological research.
"I’m just joking. I wish you the best of luck with that," Yue Yuan said sincerely. He began to turn away. "The sun is down and the wind is picking up. I think I’ll head back to the cabin. It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Xu. Until we meet again."
Night had fallen completely. Her long hair, fluttering in the breeze, was now just a dark silhouette against the neon lights flickering on the deck.
"Oh... right. Until we meet again," Xu Yanqi replied, her voice trailing off as she used the old-fashioned parting.
It was a chance encounter. Despite the pleasant conversation, they were strangers on different paths.
Yue Yuan didn't dwell on it, though he genuinely hoped she would find her "great career." Any research that served the advancement of society was a noble pursuit.
Back in his private cabin, Yue Yuan didn't bother changing. He collapsed onto the soft bed, spreading his limbs wide and closing his eyes to rest.
The year was 2108. The Chinese had used their collective will to build the miracle of the Hanhai. This project alone had cemented the nation's reputation as the global Infrastructure Juggernaut.
Born into such a civilization, Yue Yuan felt a profound sense of pride.
The trip across the Vast Sea was only the first leg of his journey home. His true destination—a place he never mentioned to strangers—was Callisto.
That was where he worked. And what had happened there was the only reason he was currently standing on Earth.
It was also the place that had irrevocably changed his fate.
Humanity had yet to master controllable nuclear fusion, but their mastery over fission technology was absolute. With the maturation of fission-based rocket propulsion, the human race had finally extended its reach across the solar system.
Because of this, the space-farers of the China had finally earned the title they had long coveted: Astronauts. [1]
TN:
[1] It's a little lost in translation but the author here is trying to convey the scale of space travel in 2108. Taikonauts are no longer restricted to Earth Orbits or the moon, but can travel intrasellar distances within the solar system.
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