Chapter 556: War Dispatch Across the Ocean

The workshop's dumpling aroma hadn't yet faded, the machine tool's roar just started again, and the dedicated line phone on Lin Shengli's desk rang suddenly.

The phone had a red body, connected to a handheld exchange, a line reserved for the higher‑level research department; it rarely rang, and when it did, it signaled urgent business.

Lin Shengli set down the coating test report in his hand, hurried over and answered, his tone steady:

"I am Lin Shengli."

A voice from the superior supervisor came over the line, markedly solemn, speaking faster than usual:

"General Lin, we just received intel that the U. S. Department of Defense officially announced the 'Dark Star II' stealth bomber development program, allocating two hundred billion dollars, with Lockheed and Boeing leading, aiming for a prototype's first flight within three years—clearly intent on seizing the global stealth bomber technology high ground."

"Two hundred billion?" Lin Shengli's brows knit sharply, his fingertips unconsciously tightening around the handset.

In the 1990s, our entire stealth bomber project's total investment was less than a fraction of that sum; the U. S. move is not only a tech race but a blatant strategic suppression.

"Has the intel been verified? What is their technical route?"

"Verified—it's from an official U. S. news agency release and a classified report from our embassy in Washington," the superior paused, then added, "The technical route leans toward high‑altitude, high‑speed stealth, building on their F‑117 stealth foundation, focusing on ultra‑long range and precision strike capability. In short, they plainly want to choke our neck; our project must accelerate, we cannot let them land first, or we lose the initiative in defense strategy."

He hung up, stood silent for a moment, while autumn wind outside swept locust leaves onto the windowsill, yet he seemed oblivious.

Grabbing the red‑topped file bag on his desk, he strode toward the workshop—this news had to be relayed to the team immediately, the pressure shared, the momentum raised together.

At that moment in the workshop, Lin Zhengcheng and Chen Mo were tuning the engine‑adaptation interface, their hands still stained with fresh oil; Lin Qinhua crouched on the floor, using a detector to cross‑check the coating's radar‑reflective data, with several sheets of curve‑filled draft paper scattered nearby.

Seeing Lin Shengli enter with a grave expression, everyone instinctively halted their tasks, and the workshop's machinery roar gradually dimmed.

"Everyone, stop for a moment; I have an important announcement," Lin Shengli placed the file bag on the makeshift conference table, opened it and took out the intel summary, "The U. S. just announced the 'Dark Star II' stealth bomber plan, allocating two hundred billion, with a three‑year first‑flight goal—it's aimed straight at our project, trying to monopolize stealth bomber technology."

The words silenced the workshop instantly; even breathing could be heard clearly.

The young technician Xiao Zhang's wrench clanged onto the floor, his face full of disbelief:

"Two hundred billion? That's ruthless; we can't match their funding, we have no advantage at all."

Another colleague frowned: "They have the F‑117 foundation; we're still hard‑at‑work on coating and engine adaptation, that gap…"

"The gap exists, but it's not insurmountable," Lin Zhengcheng broke the silence first, stepping to the conference table, pointing at the technical parameters in the summary, "They focus on high‑altitude, high‑speed, inevitably sacrificing some stealth performance and payload, which is our opening. Our coating has already been optimized to a radar cross‑section below 0.01 m², lower than the F‑117; if we master the engine's closed‑cycle technology, we can overtake them in stealth and range."

Chen Mo also nodded, picking up a draft sheet and sketching a structural diagram:

"Moreover, their component supply chain is too long, relying on global procurement; we follow a domestic route—though hard at first, it guarantees later adaptability and mass‑production efficiency. Right now the key is breaking through the two bottlenecks of engine adaptation and coating temperature resistance; the rest will fall into place."

Lin Qinhua clenched the detector in her hand, eyes flashing with defiance:

"On the coating side, Chen Mo and I can speed up; this afternoon we'll revise the test plan, fill in the high‑temperature fatigue data, and aim to produce an optimized formula within three days."

Lin Shengli looked at the bright‑eyed, unyielding youngsters before him; his tense expression gradually eased, and he raised his hand to pat the table:

"Good! With this drive we need not fear! Superiors have already approved sending extra technical core staff and increasing research funds. Though we can't outspend the U. S., we can win on efficiency, coordination, and domestic advantage. Starting today, the workshop will run two shifts—people rest, machines don't. I'll stay here with you all, and we must beat them to finish the prototype's final assembly!"

"Alright!" rang a unified response throughout the workshop, the earlier anxiety and unease transformed into a grit‑filled resolve.

The machinery roar rose again, faster and stronger than before, each person buried in work; formulas on draft paper, data on detectors, the whir of machine tools intertwined into a progressive melody against pressure.

When the news reached the Lin Family Courtyard, Zheng Juan was packing away the bowls and chopsticks from this morning's dumpling making with Qin Jingru and Ding Qiunan.

After Su Qing finished relaying Lin Shengli's phone content, Zheng Juan's enamel bowl paused, then she said firmly:

"The kids have to work overtime and speed up; our logistics must keep pace, we can't let them be distracted."

Qin Jingru immediately replied, "I'll go check the grain store, free up all the rice and flour at home, then have Yushui and Chunyan go to the supply‑and‑marketing cooperative to buy extra meat and vegetables. With two shifts, we need hot rice and soup at night; we can't have the kids eating cold dry rations."

Ding Qiunan got up to prepare epidemic‑prevention supplies:

"Night‑shift work easily leads to colds; I'll get more cold medicine and heating packs from the clinic, place a few kettles of hot water in the workshop, brew ginger tea, and deliver it to keep them warm."

Su Qing also stood, leaning on a chair, "I'll help you pick and wash vegetables. I can't go to the workshop, but I can share some housework so you can focus on provisioning."

At dusk, He Yushui and Han Chunyan rode a two‑person cart, returning with two bamboo baskets brimming with ingredients—pork, ribs, cabbage, potatoes piled high, plus several bags of dried noodles and steamed buns, even some fruit candies bought especially to refresh the night‑working youths.

"The supply‑and‑marketing cooperative's Director Wang heard we were provisioning the research workshop, so he deliberately set aside the last piece of pork belly and priced it at wholesale," He Yushui said, wiping sweat.

Han Chunyan slipped the candies into Su Qing's hand, "You're pregnant, don't overexert; we'll handle the chores."

Steam quickly rose in the kitchen; Zheng Juan and Qin Jingru took turns at the stove, stewing ribs, stir‑frying greens, simmering millet porridge, while Ding Qiunan portioned heating packs, masks, and cold medicine into small packets—one for each night‑shift worker.