Chapter 431: with translation of chapter title

In April 1983, Shenzhen already had the humid heat of early summer in the air.

At the main gate of Pingshan Industrial Park, the red flag snapped in the morning breeze.

Under the flagpole, more than ten olive-green military trucks lined up in a long dragon, engines still running, emitting a low, steady rumble.

The truck beds were tightly covered with heavy canvas; only when jolting could one hear the dull thuds of metal and wooden crates inside.

More numerous were the people.

Those who got down from the trucks included men and women, young and old, but most were middle-aged men.

They wore various styles of wool overcoats or old suits; some wore glasses, some had graying hair, their faces showed the fatigue of a long journey, plus an unguarded wariness and bewilderment at stepping onto unfamiliar soil.

Their luggage was simple, mostly suitcases or bamboo cases, but some clutched bulging briefcases so tightly their knuckles whitened.

Li Ping'an stood on the steps of the R&D center building, watching this scene.

The sunlight was glaring; he slightly narrowed his eyes. Behind him stood Li Yaozong, He Xiao, Chen Anbang, and Zhou Wenbin, who had hurried back from Hong Kong. Everyone held their breath, watching this silent, peculiar convoy.

The last jeep stopped; Chen Jianghe jumped out and hurried over. His face bore the marks of wind and frost, his eye sockets deep-set, yet his eyes shone remarkably.

"Brother, the people... have all been brought back." His voice was hoarse, yet he could not suppress his excitement: "A total of 147 people—69 experts, 78 family members. And... those things."

He turned and pointed at those trucks.

Li Ping'an nodded silently, stepped down the stairs, and walked toward the group of Soviets who had just landed, gathered together and somewhat at a loss.

Ivanov stood at the front of the crowd, having changed into a slightly tight-fitting suit, trying to straighten his back to maintain a soldier's last dignity. Beside him stood several people of distinctly different demeanor—an old man with completely white hair and thick glasses, gazing at the distant factory; a thin-built middle-aged man with sharp eyes, unconsciously tapping his trouser seam.

"Mr. Ivanov, you've had a hard journey." Li Ping'an extended his hand, speaking in Russian. Over the past few months he had crash-learned some simple Russian.

Ivanov was visibly startled for a moment, then firmly grasped Li Ping'an's hand. "Mr. Li, we... have arrived." His Chinese was stiff but understandable.

Li Ping'an turned toward the experts behind him, his gaze slowly sweeping over each face etched with stories.

He spoke in a clear, slowed tone through the translator beside him: "Experts, comrades. Welcome to China, to Shenzhen, to Wanxiang. Here will be your new home, and the new starting point of your careers."

As the translator's voice faded, a low murmur of Russian conversation rose among the crowd.

Some breathed a sigh of relief, some flashed doubt in their eyes, while many more turned their gazes toward the brand-new workshops and the white R&D building, where they saw the familiar yet unfamiliar outlines of machine tools.

Shock, like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, stirred up towering waves within Wanxiang Group.

Over the next few days, the industrial park seemed to turn into a precise beehive, operating at high speed yet infused with an almost unbelievable excitement.

The "things" in the trucks were unloaded with extreme care. They were not ordinary cargo, but tightly packed drawings—bundles of blueprints exuding the scent of aged paper; heavy wooden crates that, when opened, revealed precision instrument parts wrapped in shock-absorbing material; even several disassembled, serial-number-marked core components of experimental machine tools.

The air was filled with a peculiar mixture of oil, old paper, and foreign dust.

Even more shocking than these inanimate objects were the living people.

In the materials lab, the white-haired elder—Nikolai Petrovich, formerly head of a Soviet cutting-edge materials research institute—was now using his slightly trembling hand to touch the scanning electron microscope housing not yet widespread in China, speaking rapidly in Russian to the Chinese assistant beside him, who frantically took notes while unable to hide his astonishment.

In the mechanical assembly workshop, several Soviet engineers gathered around an automobile production line imported from Japan that they had not yet fully mastered, pointing and discussing intensely.

Soon, a bilingual Chinese-Russian process optimization suggestion sheet, over ten pages long, lay on He Xiao's desk. The suggestions hit the pain points directly, some ideas unheard of before.

Li Ping'an stood on the roof of the newly completed Expert Apartments, looking out over the entire park.

This industrial new city he had built single-handedly was, with the arrival of this special group of "immigrants," being infused with a wholly different, weighty and precise character.

"Dad, these people... are amazing." Li Yaozong stood beside him, his tone full of admiration: "Many of the concepts they mention aren't even mentioned in our school textbooks."

"They come from an industrial empire that once stood shoulder to shoulder with the United States." Li Ping'an said slowly, "A skinny camel is still bigger than a horse. These technologies, this experience, were amassed by them over decades with countless resources. Now they are ours."

He paused a moment: "However, we cannot simply copy them. National conditions differ, foundations differ. Digesting, absorbing, then innovating—that is our path."

To let these experts, far from home, truly feel at ease, Li Ping'an made a decision.

On the west side of the industrial park's living area, a separate zone was demarcated for the construction of "Volga Town."

It was not just a simple dormitory building, but a small community planned in Eastern European style: red-brick, pointed-roof row houses; at its center a square with a small fountain, planned with a bakery, small shops selling Russian sausage and pickled cucumbers, and even a reserved spot for a small Orthodox church—though it might not be used for now.

"Let them feel at home."

Li Ping'an told Li Yaozong, who was in charge of this: "When life is comfortable, they can devote their minds fully to work. The cafeteria should add a Russian food counter; family members' employment and children's school enrollment must be prioritized. Wages... as previously agreed, will be settled in US dollars and paid directly each month into their accounts at Wanxiang Bank."

He paused, then intensified his tone: "But security must be raised to the highest level. Wang Dahu!"

"Here!" Wang Dahu stood like a spear beside him.

"Volga Town and the R&D center are designated as special protection zones. Twenty-four-hour overt and covert sentries; entry and exit require wearing special badges, card swipe plus manual verification. Non-R&D personnel may not enter the R&D core area without my or Yaozong's personal approval. The experts' movements must be reported and accompanied by security personnel."

"Understood!" Wang Dahu's eyes sharp: "I'll pick the most reliable from the troops to form a dedicated security team. Also... Chairman Li, among those Soviet experts, a few have odd looks, as if they've done other lines of work." He was referring to the few "assistants" Ivanov brought.

"Just keep it in mind." Li Ping'an patted his shoulder: "As long as they follow the rules and protect their own safety. They know better than we do how hot the stuff they brought is."

Military technology and talent are another matter.

In the brought-back list and personnel files were notes on special blade processing techniques for aircraft engines, original experimental data on submarine pressure-hull materials, and even calculation drafts on fighter jet aerodynamic layouts. These things made Li Ping'an feel alarmed.

In his study, the desk lamp burned late into the night. Key documents lay spread on the desk; he read them for a long time, then finally closed the folder.

A private enterprise cannot handle these. It's not a matter of how much investment; it's a question of nature. These things should go where they belong.

A few days later, in Beijing, at an inconspicuous but heavily guarded compound.

Zhou Zhengwei's office was plain and tidy. His hair was already gray, but his back was straight, his eyes as steady as a boulder. Seeing Li Ping'an, dusty yet resolute, he gestured for him to sit.

"Ping'an, why the rush to see me? Not coming again for discharged soldiers, are you?" Zhou Zhengwei joked, handing over a cup of tea.

Li Ping'an didn't smile; he placed a heavy, unmarked briefcase on the table.

"Commissioner, I've just returned from the Soviet Union." He got straight to the point: "The situation there is worse than we imagined. The system is rigid, supplies scarce, people's hearts unsettled. Many top experts who devoted their lives to the country now can't even secure basic livelihood."

Zhou Zhengwei's expression grew serious; he leaned forward slightly.

Li Ping'an continued: "I used commercial channels to contact and bring back a group of people and some technical materials—mainly civilian sectors like materials, machinery, and chemicals, which help my enterprise's development; I have already settled them in Shenzhen."

He shifted his tone, fingers pressing on the briefcase: "But there are some things in here that I brought back that keep me awake."

He opened the briefcase, took out several carefully screened summary documents, and pushed them toward Zhou Zhengwei. The files contained no specific technical details, only personnel code numbers, rough descriptions of the fields they had been involved in, and several shocking names of technical directions.

Zhou Zhengwei picked up the files, glanced at them for just a moment, and his pupils contracted sharply. He lifted his head and stared intently at Li Ping'an, as if seeing for the first time this former subordinate, now a business titan. The air in the room seemed to freeze.

"These... people, and these directions... are you sure?" Zhou Zhengwei's voice was pressed low, each word weighing a thousand jin.

"I stake my life on it." Li Ping'an met his gaze calmly: "The people are now safe, but they long for genuine respect and a place to make use of their talents. The technical directions have leads, key figures, and channels of acquisition. But I personally and my company lack the ability and qualification to handle these. They belong to the state and can only be turned over to the state."

He took a deep breath and laid out the carefully considered plan: "I can act as the intermediary, establishing an absolutely secret contact channel. Using my commercial network and security forces in the Soviet Union, under the pretext of 'high‑salary civilian technical consultant' or 'business cooperation', we will safely and in batches bring in these defense‑critical experts. Subsequent placement and determination of research directions will be taken over by the organization."

Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei remained silent for a long time, then lowered his head again, turning the pages carefully and lightly rubbing certain names with his fingers. He knew what those names and directions meant. They were assets powerful enough to affect the fate of the nation!

After a long while, he set the documents aside, removed his reading glasses, and rubbed his brow. Looking at Li Ping'an again, his eyes were filled with complex emotions: shock, admiration, and utmost solemnity.

"Ping'an… Ping'an…" Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei let out a long sigh, "This time you haven't just earned merit; you've shattered the heavens! This matter is huge. I must report it immediately to the highest level. You…"

"I understand the protocol." Li Ping'an stood up, "This briefcase stays with you. Tell me what you need me to do at any time. My contact channels are responsible only to you. Until I receive further instructions, I will keep absolute silence about this part."

Returning from Beijing to Shenzhen, Li Ping'an immediately dove into the research and development center.

The Volga town was being rapidly built, the tamping machines thudding loudly. Inside the center, it was already a blaze of activity.

Under strict security measures, Soviet experts and Chinese engineers have begun preliminary integration and collisions. In the conference room, heated discussions mixed with Russian and Chinese constantly echoed.

Li Ping'an first received the report from the wireless communications laboratory.

The project leader is a young engineer named Xu Zhiyuan, his eyes bloodshot but his spirit exhilarated. "Director Li, the BP Pager prototype's basic functions are already realized, POCSAG coding debugging succeeded. Now we're stuck on two points: first, miniaturization, especially battery standby time; second, the English display's font file chip and driver consume too much memory, cost cannot be reduced."

"Font file issue, coordinate with the 'Cangjie' language project team to solve." Li Ping'an immediately instructed, "Battery, inquire about Sony Japan's latest lithium‑battery technology, see if we can import or cooperate. Also, the exterior design must be fashionable, not look like a black brick. Progress must be fast; by the first half of next year, I want to see a trial product."

In the "Cangjie" Chinese programming project team, leader Zhang Wei reported another scene: "Director Li, the basic syntax framework construction is smoother than expected, but the Soviet expert Mi Haier's idea of 'machine‑level intermediate representation optimization' has saved us many detours. However, promoting the ecosystem is the biggest difficulty; without applications, the language is just a castle in the air."

"First promote it within Wanshang." Li Ping'an decided, "Start with the R&D center's tool software and equipment control programs. Build a reputation, then expand outward. Don't fear slowness; the foundation must be solid."

The most important meeting is in the Precision Machine Tool project team.

Here gather the most elite troops from both China and the Soviet Union. The Group Leader is an old expert formerly from the First Machinery Department, surname Guo, a technical authority with a rigorous style. At this moment, he points at the chart on the blackboard, his voice booming:

"Director Li, the high‑rigidity bed design experience and special guide‑rail pairing process brought by our Soviet comrades are extremely valuable, solving our long‑standing vibration problem. But the gap still lies at the core— the CNC system!"

The blackboard lists the focus areas: "Intelligent (adaptive optimization, fault diagnosis)", "High‑precision high‑speed (linear motor, nanometer‑level grating)", "Composite flexible (milling‑turning integration, flexible manufacturing unit)", "Networked digital (integration with MES/ERP)".

Each item is marked with a huge red exclamation mark, representing a technical barrier.

"Especially the five‑axis coordinated CNC system and high‑end servo motors, these are the 'bottleneck' technologies strictly blocked abroad!" Guo said gravely.

Li Ping'an walked to the blackboard, his gaze sharply scanning each line. "Engineer Guo, among the Soviet experts, is there any senior personnel in control systems and motors?"

"Yes! Comrade Wa Lianjing, formerly of the Leningrad Precision Instruments Research Institute, has deep insights into open‑architecture CNC systems. Also…"

"Good!" Li Ping'an cut him off, "Form a joint breakthrough team. Use our existing, reverse‑engineered Japanese machine tool as a platform, dismantle! Boldly dismantle, completely dismantle. Apply Soviet theory and experience, combine with our actual processing needs, master it!"

He set the strategy: "Don't aim too high prematurely. Current stage goals: Generation‑1 equipment—stable production of the ordinary CNC machines we have mastered, meeting our own factories and some domestic demand; Generation‑2 development—concentrate forces to conquer five‑axis coordination and high‑end servo motors, produce a prototype; Generation‑3 pre‑research—track intelligent and networked trends, build technical reserves."

He looked at the mixed faces of Chinese and Soviet technical staff in the conference room, full of fighting spirit yet slightly anxious, and said in a deep voice: "I know it's hard, I know there's a gap. But this road has no retreat. Machine tools are the mother of industry; if the mother machine is weak, how can we speak of a strong manufacturing nation? Funding, equipment, personnel, the group will fully guarantee! I only want results!"

Late at night, Li Ping'an sat alone in the office.

Outside the window, the lights of the Volga town construction site have not yet gone out.

In the R&D center building, many windows remain lit. There are Chinese engineers calculating through the night, and Soviet experts poring over their lifelong knowledge.

In front of him lie two completely different reports: one is Wanxiang Group's hopeful progress brief on various civilian technology projects; the other is the top‑secret transfer route diagram concerning the nation's heavy equipment that he has repeatedly simulated in his mind.

He lights a cigarette, the smoke curling upward.

He knows that the "surging thunder" siphoned from the Soviet Union has already split two tracks in his hands: one illuminates the rugged road for Wanshang toward the technological high ground; the other, brighter and heavier, is destined to merge into the Republic's powerful army‑building torrent.

And he, stands at this intersection.

The road is still long, but the direction has never been so clear.