Chapter 514: Who Can Understand These Things?

Everyone in the conference room understood what "other means" implied, but no one raised an objection. Faced with the astonishing technical prowess suddenly displayed by Long Country, any moral concerns appeared pale and powerless.

The resolution was quickly passed, and Star-Spangled Country began the largest-scale technology catch-up program in history; at the same time, a special negotiation team was dispatched to Long Country, carrying astronomical contracts and various enticing conditions, attempting to "legally acquire" the technology license for the Pangu System.

The reaction of Beijixiong Guo was more direct. They simply sent a delegation composed of top scientists and intelligence officers, clearly stating their willingness to exchange large amounts of military technology and resources for the right to use the "Pangu System."

However, Li Mingyuan had long been prepared. After a series of seemingly enthusiastic yet airtight meetings, the Long Country side finally announced its official position: the Pangu System could be sold, but there were three non-negotiable conditions:

One, only finished machines would be provided, and no Hexin technology would be transferred;

Two, all software and interfaces would only be provided in Chinese versions, and no foreign language versions would be developed;

Three, buyers were prohibited from conducting reverse engineering research on the system.

This decision shocked everyone. The delegations of the two great powers angrily accused these conditions of being "unreasonable" and "discriminatory," but faced with the firm attitude of the Long Country side, they could only grit their teeth and accept—after all, even a restricted "Pangu-III" was far more advanced than the computers they currently possessed.

Soon, the first batch of high-priced "Pangu-III" units arrived at the top research laboratories of Star-Spangled Country and Beijixiong Guo. Scientists excitedly tore open the packaging and couldn't wait to start these magical machines, only to fall into despair the moment the screens lit up—the entire interface was full of Chinese square characters, dense and packed, with no logic to follow.

Star-Spangled Country, Massachusetts Institute of Technology computer laboratory.

"What the hell is this thing?!" Doctor Smith, the chief researcher, roared, pointing at the Chinese characters on the screen, "Who can understand these things?"

"Calm down, Doctor," his assistant said cautiously, "we can hire Chinese translators to help with the operation."

"You think I haven't thought of that?" Smith bellowed, "The problem isn't just the surface operation interface! The entire underlying code, the Hexin architecture of the operating system, is all designed based on Chinese logic! Even if we hire translators, we cannot understand the internal workings of the system!"

He slammed his fist on the table, "This isn't a technical barrier, this is a cultural barrier! Those cunning Orientals, they used language differences to build a wall we cannot cross!"

A similar scene played out at the Academy of Sciences laboratory in Beijixiong Guo. Top computer experts were completely helpless when faced with a screen full of square characters. Even after hiring translators who understood Chinese, they could only barely operate some basic functions; a deep understanding of the system remained out of reach.

"This is Oriental sorcery!" a senior programmer complained, "They did this on purpose! Chinese underlying code? Who would design a system like this? This completely violates the basic principles of computer science!"

"No, this precisely proves their brilliance," the laboratory director said in a deep voice, "Language is a way of thinking. By forcing the use of a Chinese architecture, they have ensured that we will never be able to truly understand and replicate their technology. This is not simple encryption, but a fundamental barrier of thought."

The laboratory fell into silence. In the decades of the Cold War, the two great powers had never encountered such a thorny opponent—a country that was not only leading in technology but also knew how to use cultural differences to set up natural barriers.

And on the other side of the ocean, Li Mingyuan stood at the command center of Penglai Base, looking at the global intelligence dynamics displayed on the monitoring screen, a faint, imperceptible smile hanging at the corner of his mouth.

"Minister Zhang, it seems our 'Chinese Wall' is working quite well," he said relaxedly, "The top experts of the two great powers are going crazy over screens full of Chinese characters."

Minister Zhang couldn't help but laugh out loud: "Lao Li, this move is truly brilliant. Using Chinese as the system language and underlying code is more effective than any technical encryption. For Westerners to learn Chinese, they wouldn't even be able to get their foot in the door without ten or eight years."

"More importantly," a sharp glint flashed in Li Mingyuan's eyes, "the harder they try to crack it, the more they will proceed according to the path we designed. This batch of 'Pangu-III' is like a Trojan horse; it appears to be a technical product, but in reality, it is a tool for us to guide the direction of their technological development."

Minister Zhang looked at him in surprise: "You mean..."

"That's right," Li Mingyuan nodded, "While they are busy studying these machines, we are already developing the next generation of systems. By the time they finally understand the principles of this generation, they will find that they have fallen behind by another step."

He turned toward the window, his gaze falling on that massive silhouette in the distance—the "Kunpeng" project was working day and night, the huge structure already taking shape, resembling a dormant giant beast under the glow of the sunset.

"Let them keep guessing," Li Mingyuan said softly, "The day 'Kunpeng' truly spreads its wings and flies, they won't even have the qualifications to catch up."

……

Star-Spangled Country, intelligence agency subordinate research center "Heixiang" laboratory.

This was a secret facility hidden in the mountains of Fujiniyazhou; since the beginning of the Cold War, this had been the Hexin base for Star-Spangled Country's top code-breaking and technical reverse engineering. At this moment, the main hall of the laboratory had been completely renovated, becoming a command center for the breakthrough battle specifically targeting "Pangu-III."

"Three months! Three whole months, twenty-four top experts, spending over three million dollars in funding, and what is the result?" Project Director Henderson slapped the table, his face flushed red, "Nothing! We haven't even been able to break through the first layer of the operating system's defense!"

The atmosphere in the conference room was so heavy it could almost be wrung out. Sitting around the circular conference table were the best computer scientists, cryptographers, and linguists of Star-Spangled Country, every face written with exhaustion and frustration.

Doctor Fulanke Moer, a Turing Award winner from Massachusetts Institute of Technology, shook his head bitterly: "We have encountered an unprecedented challenge. This is not just a technical obstacle, but a... chasm of thought patterns."

"Explain specifically." Henderson ordered.

Doctor Moer took a deep breath: "First, the entire architecture of the Pangu System is built based on Chinese logic. It is not a simple 'translation' problem, but a fundamental difference in the way of thinking. For example, Western languages are linear and analytical, while Chinese is... er, pictographic and synthetic."

He walked to the whiteboard and drew a few simple Chinese characters: "Look at this, 'mu' (wood), a tree; add a stroke and it becomes 'ben' (root), the meaning changes; add another stroke and it becomes 'mo' (end), the meaning changes again. Two 'mu' side-by-side is 'lin' (forest), three 'mu' is 'sen' (dense forest)... this kind of pictographic and ideographic construction method goes deep into the underlying code structure of the Pangu System."