Eric was not actually an aviator; he was a flight enthusiast who had been passionate about flying and made many dangerous attempts that would later seem incredible to others long before the Wright Brothers invented their airplane.
When the Wright Brothers successfully invented the first airplane in 1903, Eric thought the world had opened a new horizon for him. He even spread his arms and cheered at the sky, tears welling up in his eyes as he thanked God for finally giving him the chance to soar into the sky.
Two years later, he sold off all his possessions to open an airplane manufacturing factory.
Eric naively thought that many people would love flying as much as he did. "Who wouldn’t want to fly freely in the sky like a bird?" he said.
However, the early airplanes were extremely unsafe. While people did wish to fly like birds, not if it meant risking their lives... they would rather not!
In three years, his factory sold only six planes, and that too with virtually no profit.
Like many entrepreneurs unwilling to give up on their dreams, Eric soon found himself trapped in a cycle of bank loans and his debts snowballing beyond repayment.
Unable to tolerate this dire lifestyle, his wife left him with their two children. All he could do was take on "dangerous missions" from the military at the airport to barely make ends meet.
When he heard about the mission to "destroy Big Bertha," Eric’s first reaction was, what’s death to a man? If it meant clearing his debts and leaving some money for his wife and kids, it would be worth it!
"How much do you plan to sell for?" Shire asked.
"What?" Eric looked at Shire in disbelief. "You... you really want to buy it? You know what this is! You haven’t even looked at it yet?"
"Of course!" Shire answered without hesitation. "We can sign the contract now if you have it with you!"
Eric fumbled around his body for a moment before finally pulling a crumpled document from his pocket. It was obvious he had tried to sell the factory before but had not succeeded.
With trembling hands, Eric unfolded the contract and carefully handed it to Shire.
Shire glanced at it—360,000 francs. The figure surprised him. "After repaying the bank loans, you would have only 10,000 francs left?"
"That’s enough!" Eric replied.
To him, 10,000 francs was a huge sum, all of which he would give to his wife and children. He had owed them too much over the years.
As for himself, he hadn’t thought about it.
Shire handed the contract back to Eric.
Eric’s hopeful expression instantly turned to disappointment, but he nodded understandingly. "No one would do such a foolish thing; I understand!"
"No, Uncle Eric!" Shire said calmly. "Redo the contract; I’ll give you 400,000 francs!"
Eric’s eyes widened in disbelief. Even Major Fisher standing beside him thought he had misheard. Buying it for 360,000 francs but offering 400,000? This had to be the most foolish capitalist!
That’s 40,000 francs, an amount most people won’t earn in a lifetime. Some would have to work over a hundred years for that, yet this capitalist increased his offer with a single thought!
"Is this, is this real?" Eric stood up, excited.
"Of course it’s real!" Shire said. "But there’s one condition..."
Eric paused and then smiled faintly, as if saying, I knew there was no such good fortune.
Unexpectedly, Shire said, "You must come back alive, Uncle Eric. I’m waiting for you to manage my airplane factory!"
Eric was instantly overwhelmed, so moved that he couldn’t speak. He stared at Shire, thinking he was dreaming. His lips moved as if wanting to say something but nothing came out.
At the same time, he couldn’t understand. Wasn’t the deal about risking his life? Was he not to crash the plane into "Big Bertha"?
How could he come back alive and even manage Shire’s factory?
Seeing Eric not answer, Shire asked again, "Aren’t you willing?"
"No, no, of course I’m willing!" Eric replied.
Getting a huge sum while keeping his factory, what could be more perfect?
Eric asked doubtfully, "I, I can come back alive?"
"Of course!" Shire raised his eyebrow. Turning his gaze to Fisher, he said, "Major, can you gather the pilots? We need to formulate a battle plan!"
As Fisher was leaving, a messenger entered and reported, "Sir, the Congreve rockets you requested have arrived!"
Shire nodded, "Place the rockets in the warehouse and assign guards!"
As the messenger was leaving, Shire added, "Select a batch of well-conditioned rockets!"
Hearing the term "Congreve rocket," Eric seemed to grasp Shire’s intention. He nodded slightly, believing that Shire wasn’t buying his life with money, though there would still be danger.
"I don’t know how to thank you, little guy!" Eric hesitated. "You’re generous; as they say, you’re a conscientious capitalist. But...I’m not worth that much. I’m just a drunkard, so you don’t need to do this..."
"No, Uncle Eric!" Shire interrupted, speaking with certainty. "You are worth that much, you just don’t realize it!"
As he spoke, Shire nodded towards the contract in Eric’s hand. "There should be a typewriter in Major Fisher’s office. You can type out a new contract; signing it doesn’t take much time!"
Eric stared blankly at the contract in his hand. He suddenly thought, if he died, would the bank and capitalist debts no longer need repayment?
Selling the factory to pay off debts, wasn’t that just transferring the debt to Shire?
Thinking of this, Eric gently tore the contract into pieces and said to a puzzled Shire:
"No hurry, little guy!"
"You trust me this much, I certainly trust you as well!"
"If I come back alive, we can reconsider the deal. Otherwise, I trust you’ll take care of my family!"
Shire panicked a little; he did "trust Eric," but he also really wanted an airplane factory. If Eric didn’t sign the contract and didn’t return alive, the factory would be seized by the bank!
"Uncle Eric..." Shire hoped he would change his mind.
But Eric remained firm, "That’s decided, little guy! Now, tell me, what should I do?"
"Alright," Shire said, a bit dejectedly.
But in Eric’s eyes, it was full of emotion.
What a kind-hearted child. He was eager to give me the money just to help me pay off my debts. He must not want to see me leave this world with regrets and worries.
No, little guy, leaving this world without repaying the capitalist’s debt is not worry; it’s my only source of pride!