This was the record required by the agency, and, to me, it was reasonable and fair. After all, how could someone such as me scale the heavens and seize the moon? I had stolen his ideas. The most I could have done was to assist shifu in his task, and so it was quite as expected that I should merit just a footnote in the official record. How could I receive the same acclaim as him? At least, this was the perspective of those senior comrades, and in truth, I did feel the same way. To be honest, once the situation was sorted out, I felt no indignation whatsoever, nor was I resentful, nor did I complain. In fact, I thought that this was how it should be. But because of this, your father’s heart became burdened. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had stolen the credit due me. He couldn’t help but feel sorry, even though he had, in truth, no reason to be. At first, he had tried to get the official record changed. He had even gone to speak personally with several senior leaders, requesting them to make the change, to give us each an equal share of the credit. But was it as easy as that? Saying something that others do not want to hear usually doesn’t work, and even if the senior officials had acknowledged that there was an error, it was just a mistake – it didn’t mean necessarily that it would be changed. The thing was, they never believed that a mistake had been made. The fact that I never issued a complaint proved to them that no error had been committed. Of course, this train of thought was entirely correct. Correct situations must be adhered to, they must be propagandized, and they must be advertised. So much praise washed over your father, like a tidal wave; wave after wave, carrying him higher and higher. He was called a hero of the nation and wherever his accomplishment could be publicized, it was.