Chapter 449: Cangjie Breaks the Wall: Educational Sparks Ignite the Prairie

In the Australian desert, the railway tracks gnaw inch by inch at the scorching red soil.

And thousands of miles away in Shenzhen, another silent battle is quietly reaching dawn.

Nanshan R&D Center, late night.

The air is filled with the warm breath of machine cooling, mixed with coffee's bitter roast and the scent of paper ink.

Zhang Wei's hair is messier than a few months ago, like a clump of thatch battered by a gale.

Yet his blood‑shot eyes shine astonishingly, fixed on the screen of the "Morning Star II" computer before him.

The screen no longer shows complex English commands and flickering hexadecimal code.

Instead, line after line of clear, blocky Chinese appears.

"Initialize system."

"Create file test document."

"Loop count from one to ten."

"Print count."

His fingers tremble slightly as he hits the Enter key.

The cursor on the screen jumps obediently.

Lines of expected Chinese prompts and results flow smoothly into view.

No crash.

No garbled text.

Like a river finally tamed, it follows the carved channel with gentle flow.

The lab is so quiet you can hear the hum of the machine's fan.

A few young programmers gathered nearby hold their breath.

Zhang Wei quickly types a few more complex commands—testing conditionals, nested loops, and subroutine calls.

The Chinese on the screen responds like animated talismans, one by one.

"Done…"

Someone mutters first, voice hoarse, trembling with disbelief.

Zhang Wei says nothing.

He simply leans heavily back in his chair, gazing up at the ceiling's pale fluorescent tube.

The light makes his eyes ache.

Yet he can't bring himself to close them.

Over a year.

More than four hundred days and nights in total.

From the initially near‑mad idea, through countless redesigns, to line after line of polishing basic font files and parsers.

They walked a path no one in the world had ever taken.

There was mockery.

There was even more questioning.

Even within the team, some wavered, thinking that instead of pouring massive effort into "Chinese programming," they should simply learn and digest existing foreign systems.

But President Li only asked him one question: "Zhang Wei, whose language do you think future China should use to tell machines what to do?"

Just that one question.

Nailed him and the whole team to this lonely, arduous road.

Now, the road seems to have truly opened its first segment.

"Cangjie".

This is the name Li Ping'an gave to the Chinese programming system.

Taken from the ancient deity who created writing for the Chinese nation.

Its meaning is profound.

At this moment, the first‑generation core of "Cangjie" finally opens its naive yet clear eyes on the screen.

Zhang Wei rubs his stiff face and stands up.

His legs feel a bit weak.

It's both prolonged sitting and the sudden mental relaxation that leaves him drained.

"Organize all the test records."

His voice is hoarse, yet carries an undeniable force.

"Backup. Encrypt. Prepare the demo environment and documentation."

He looks at the team members, those young people whose eyes are dark‑circuited yet burning.

"Before dawn, I will report to President Li."

Morning sunlight pours through the glass curtain wall of Wanxiang Dasha's top floor into the spacious office.

Li Ping'an stands by the window, holding the brief report Zhang Wei compiled overnight, still warm from the printer.

Outside, Shenzhen's outline sharpens in the morning light; in the direction of Ping Shan Industrial Park, new factories can be faintly seen sprouting.

His gaze skims the technical terms in the report, finally resting on the concluding pages of summary and future vision.

"Chinese programming 'Cangjie' first‑generation core verification completed. Initial advantages demonstrated: 1) dramatically lowers the barrier for Chinese people to learn programming, no need to pass the English gate first; 2) commands align better with Chinese thinking habits, easy to understand and remember; 3) facilitates software development and system maintenance in a Chinese environment; 4) builds a self‑controlled software ecosystem from the ground up…"

The report is solid, without empty words.

Yet Li Ping'an can see, through these calm sentences, the scorching nights, debates, breakthroughs and euphoria behind them.

He puts down the report and looks at Zhang Wei, who sits on the opposite sofa, forcing himself to stay awake.

"Thanks for your hard work, Engineer Zhang."

Li Ping'an's voice was calm, yet it made Zhang Wei's heart warm and his nose a little sour.

"Director Li, this is only the first step. The core framework is up, but the compiler's efficiency, the development toolchain, the standard‑library construction… there's still a long way to go. Moreover, there's no ready‑made experience abroad to refer to; everything must be explored by us."

"Explore well." Li Ping'an nodded. "Paths are forged by people. When we succeed on a road no one else has taken, it becomes our road."

He walked to the back of the desk, opened a drawer, and took out a document that had been prepared long ago.

"The technology must keep tackling challenges; that's your core duty. But 'Cangjie' cannot stay locked in the lab."

He pushed the document over.

"We need to let it go out, to the places that need it most."

The cover read "Outline of the 'Cangjie' Now we need to output lines: English Programming System Popularization and Education Promotion Plan."

Zhang Wei opened it and skimmed quickly.

The more he read, the wider his eyes opened.

The plan is divided into several parts.

Part One: Author a book and set forth a theory.

Organize the core members of Zhang Wei's team to write an accessible "Cangjie" Now we need to output lines: English Programming Introduction Tutorial and the accompanying "System Principles and Development Guide". The language must be plain, the examples vivid; the target readers are middle‑school and university students with no programming background, as well as the many enthusiasts interested in computers.

"Publish a book?" Zhang Wei was somewhat surprised. In this era where technical materials are scarce, producing a tutorial for an independent system is no small undertaking.

"Yes." Li Ping'an affirmed. "We must not only publish, but publish it beautifully and authoritatively. Use the best publishers, the fastest distribution channels. The price can be subsidized; the goal is to spread it as widely as possible."

Part Two: Enter campuses.

Cooperate with key domestic universities, especially those strong in computer and radio‑related majors, to donate and establish a "Wanshang—Cangjie Computer Laboratory".

The laboratory is equipped with the latest batch of "Morning Star II" computers, all preinstalled with the "Cangjie" system and accompanying learning and development software.

At the same time, send core R&D team members or specially trained lecturers to the partner schools to hold talks, short courses, and even explore setting up related electives.

"Universities?" Zhang Wei's heart raced. This meant that "Cangjie" would directly confront China's most elite and most demanding young minds.

"Universities are the cradle of thought and the starting point of the future," Li Ping'an said. "Let students first encounter not someone else's language and rules, but our own system. This preemptive influence cannot be bought with money."

Part Three: Competitions and incentives.

Establish the "Cangjie Cup" national college programming contest, awarding winners with cash prizes, internship opportunities, and even support for overseas study exchanges.

Within Wanxiang Group, "Cangjie" programming ability will also be an important bonus for technical positions.

"We need to create an atmosphere." Li Ping'an tapped his fingers lightly on the desk. "An atmosphere where those who can use 'Cangjie' are proud to use it. No matter how good the technology is, if no one uses it, it's scrap metal. When many use it, it becomes a living language, a living system."

Zhang Wei was stunned by the grandeur and detail of the plan.

This is not merely technology promotion.

It is a forward‑thinking layout concerning the future computer world's discourse power.

It quietly replaces the foundation of the entire nation's software industry.

"Director Li, this… this requires massive investment. Moreover, results may be slow," Zhang Wei said frankly. "Education is a century‑long plan; the commercial return cycle is too long."

"I understand." Li Ping'an walked to the window, looking at the thriving city. "Some investments cannot be counted solely in economic terms. Computers are the future; programming is the language to the future. If the core rules and lexicon of this language remain forever in others' hands, no matter how many machines we build, they are merely mute and deaf bodies in fancy clothing."

He turned, his gaze blazing.

"'Cangjie' is now just a seed. What we must do is plant it in the most fertile soil—the minds of the young. Carefully irrigate, wait patiently. One day it will take root, sprout, and grow into a forest that others cannot easily cut down."

He paused, his tone softening: "On the technology side, you continue to be in charge, improve and optimize as soon as possible. On the promotion side, I will have Xu Jiaming fully cooperate with you. He knows the university and research system and knows how to put things into practice."

When Xu Jiaming received the assignment, he was in Longgang Electronic Industrial Park, testing a batch of newly released "Morning Star II" motherboards.

Having understood Li Ping'an's intention, he pushed his glasses up, a thoughtful expression appearing on his face.

"University donations and cooperation… this is a systems engineering." He quickly got into gear. "We can't just ship machines and be done. Laboratory environment, power supply, daily maintenance, faculty training—all must keep pace. Otherwise idle equipment will deteriorate, causing more harm."

"That's why you're in charge," Li Ping'an said. "Produce a detailed plan. The first batch will pilot five to eight top universities. Draft the list; the criteria are strong computer programs, high‑quality students, willing and well‑managed school partners. The donation agreement must be signed, clarifying responsibilities. We can provide equipment, base software, and initial training, but the school must commit to using the lab for teaching and research and assign dedicated management."

"Understood," Xu Jiaming nodded. "On the textbook publishing side, I'll also leverage contacts, reaching out to Tsinghua University Press, Science Press and other authoritative houses. Content review still falls to Engineer Zhang's team, but I'll coordinate the publishing process and distribution channels."

"Good," Li Ping'an said satisfiedly, nodding. "Xu Jiaming works methodically and thoroughly; he is the ideal person to execute this long‑term plan."

The plan advanced with astonishing efficiency.

Zhang Wei's team worked by lamplight through the night, converting technical documents into tutorial manuscripts more suitable for beginners.

Xu Jiaming, accompanied by an assistant, began intensive visits to the universities on the list.

Tsinghua, Peking University, Shanghai Jiao Tong University, Zhejiang University, Harbin Institute of Technology…

The visits were not smooth sailing.

Some professors at certain schools were skeptical of the "Now we need to output lines: English programming" concept, thinking it was a gimmick or that the technology was immature.

Xu Jiaming remained calm, bringing a prototype with the "Cangjie" system installed for on‑site demonstration.

When those professors and department heads saw the smooth Chinese commands and responses on the screen, and saw a Chinese‑written mini‑program actually run, doubt gradually gave way to surprise and interest.

Especially a few senior professors, watching the friendly block characters directing the machine, felt their eyes grow a bit moist.

"Great… this is truly something made by us Chinese!" a senior professor at Tsinghua patted Xu Jiaming's shoulder firmly. "I've long said we can't always follow the foreigners' baton! Donate the equipment, and we'll immediately make room for the lab! As for curriculum, I'll coordinate it myself!"

Donation agreements were signed one by one.

The sign "Wanshang—Cangjie Computer Laboratory" began appearing in the teaching buildings of these top institutions.

Brand‑new "Morning Star II" computers were carefully moved in, placed in specially prepared dust‑proof server rooms.

When the preinstalled "Cangjie" system started, the Chinese prompt "Welcome to the Cangjie Now we need to output lines: English Programming System" caused the first batch of students entering the lab to let out soft exclamations.

The technical support team arranged by Xu Jiaming followed the equipment on site, handling initial installation, debugging, and a week‑long intensive training.

The training classroom was filled with curious and excited young faces.

They are the future stars of China's computer field.

At this moment, the first serious programming system they encounter is no longer the unfamiliar English DOS or the more complex Unix, but "Cangjie" built with their own mother tongue.

That natural sense of closeness and lowered psychological barrier is evident.

Many students can quickly get the hang of it, using Now we need to output lines: English commands to write simple programs and solve minor problems.

The sense of achievement comes directly and intensely.

"So programming isn't that mysterious!" a bespectacled boy exclaimed to his companion, "It feels like speaking to a machine with a more rigorous set of Now we need to output lines: English!"

The first batch of "Cangjie" Now we need to output lines: English Programming Introduction Tutorial is also being rushed into print.

The cover design is simple and grand, with deep blue as the background, featuring ancient oracle‑bone script "character" motifs and modern Now we need to output lines: English code snippets, symbolizing the convergence of past and present.

The publisher provided the finest paper and printing craftsmanship.

Li Ping'an specifically requested a large first‑edition print run, a price far below cost, with the Group subsidizing it.

What he wants is popularization, not profit.

At the same time, the regulations for the Cangjie Cup competition have also begun to be drafted.

The prize money is quite attractive, and more importantly, the winners will gain a valuable internship at the Wanshang Research Institute, as well as possible slots for technical exchange visits.

The news quietly spread among the partner universities, stirring a considerable ripple.

For students yearning for practice and a way forward, this is undoubtedly a highly enticing challenge and opportunity.

A few months later.

Shenzhen, Wanxiang Group year‑end senior summary meeting.

On the massive projection screen, the achievements of the past year were displayed.

The brilliant record of the Japanese financial war.

The final hammer blow of the London bank acquisition.

The earth‑shaking discovery of Australian iron ore and its silent deployment.

The accelerated construction of Shenzhen's major industrial parks.

Each item is a heavy fruit.

But Li Ping'an, at the end of the summary, spent a considerable amount of time introducing the progress and promotion status of the Cangjie system.

He displayed photos of partner university labs, the students' focused gazes toward the Now we need to output lines: English screen.

He read several thank‑you letters and reflections from senior university professors and young students; the letters were full of joy for independent technology and longing for the future.

He announced that the Cangjie Cup competition had already received hundreds of registration intents.

The conference room was very quiet.

Some people didn't quite understand why Director Li placed such importance on this seemingly "non‑profitable" and even "money‑burning" endeavor.

Li Ping'an gave no extensive explanation of the business logic.

He simply looked at everyone and said slowly:

"Everyone, we make money, strategize, acquire resources, in order today to ensure the Group's survival and development, and to provide the nation with needed supplies."

"But our work on 'Cangjie', entering campuses, is for tomorrow."

"It is so that ten or twenty years later, when computers truly change every corner of the world, our descendants will no longer have to rely on others, will no longer have to pay exorbitant costs for using the most basic tools, and will not lose the right to speak before the underlying rules of the digital world."

"Today we search for iron ore in the desert to transfuse blood into the industrial backbone."

"Today we sow seeds on campuses to lay the foundation for future intelligence."

"These two matters are equally important."

He paused, his voice steady and powerful:

"Because true strength is not merely how many ores and cash are in one's pocket."

"It is also how many thoughts and tools that belong to oneself and can create the future reside in the mind."

After the meeting adjourned, Li Ping'an walked to the window again.

The southern winter sun was warm and gentle.

The street below bustled with traffic, full of vitality.

He seemed to see the faint glow emitted by the "Morning Star" computer screens scattered across the labs of various universities.

He saw each line of the tender yet hopeful Now we need to output lines: English code that young students typed into the Cangjie system.

Those specks of faint light may now still be insignificant.

But a spark can set the prairie ablaze.

It begins from the smallest.

He believes that the seeds sown today will eventually break through the soil on some future day, growing into a knowledge forest that supports an era.

And the forest's Speech rights will be firmly held in the hands of the planters.