Chapter 47: You Underestimated the People of Huaguo

According to current projections, Xiangjiang may become a new city where manufacturing and finance each occupy half the market, while Japan will clash with America technologically earlier, and America’s globalization will face challenges sooner.

Lin Ran stood before the blackboard, pondering—even a mind capable of deriving the Navier-Stokes equations by hand could not give him an accurate prediction of the future.

Nevertheless, the early arrival of the maritime era will undoubtedly shape a multipolar world sooner.

This is an overwhelmingly critical advantage for Huaguo.

Huaguo’s foundational conditions, human resources, and deepwater coastal ports will become unique assets.

“Perhaps the World Trade Organization will form earlier, and Huaguo can join the global economic cycle ahead of schedule,” Lin Ran thought, “but no matter what, I’ve already done everything I could.

I cannot control how the world changes.”

Yangcheng

The three sequences—56-6-12, 58-10-3, 59-1-3—likely refer to Paper No. 12 in Issue 6 of the Journal of Applied Mathematics and Physics, 1956; the other two sequences are similar.

When Professor Hua said we could deduce the Monte Carlo method from these papers ourselves, he meant we must persistently receive Western scientific journals and extract their valuable content,” Hua Luogeng explained.

His colleague asked: “So, Professor Hua, these are photocopied editions of the three journals. You need to organize students unfamiliar with the Monte Carlo method to deduce it based solely on these three publications.”

The Monte Carlo method Lin Ran transmitted to Huaguo was known only to Qian’s team.

Hua Luogeng did not know it.

Thus, this is also a double-blind test.

Since you, Lin Ran, claim we can deduce it ourselves, we’ll send our top mathematician, Hua Luogeng, to lead the team and see if he can derive the Monte Carlo method from your materials.

Meanwhile, Qian, at Bingcheng, was modifying the DF-1 test missile using the Monte Carlo method.

In the calculation room on the east side of the greenhouse, the girls were verifying orbital parameters with wooden abacuses.

The 103 electronic tube computer, developed by the Huaguo Academy of Sciences, rested in the corner with its cooling vents open.

“Team Leader Zhao, the curvature of the third segment’s parabola has stabilized the parameter anomalies, just as the Monte Carlo method predicted!” Xiao Zhou suddenly looked up from the tracing paper.

Technician Zhao grabbed a conic section template and pressed it against the coordinate grid; the pine ruler swept across the desk covered in blue-printed diagrams. “Indeed, after optimizing the method, we can now calculate the third segment’s parabola.

Director Qian is truly brilliant—he actually thought of such an effective computational method.”

At this moment, Director Qian was removing his glasses and performing final calculations facing the blackboard in his office:

“If we reverse-engineer the lateral deviation by three incremental units, the missile’s exhaust disturbance field—since it’s not a spherical wave but a discrete vortex distribution along the shock front—can be controlled, and its deviation will fall below expectations.”

After speaking, Director Qian slammed his fist on the desk: “I finally understand what Lin’s 15th case meant—we can use it to control missile deviation!”

At 3 a.m. on July 30, flashlight beams flickered in the shadow of Launch Tower No. 7.

Director Qian climbed the forty-meter gantry crane, where engineers were wrapping nickel-chromium alloy wires in frost-proof cotton.

Fifteen kilometers east, the abandoned R-2 missile training model lay across the dunes, discarded by Soviet experts.

“The horizontal error of the gyroscope platform base must be compressed to three-thousandths.”

Director Qian gripped the icy iron ladder railing and pressed Li, in charge of the telemetry system.

“Director Qian, we truly can’t do it—the Soviets refused to provide us with the latest flow guide grids,” Li replied with a bitter smile.

“No, you must do it! We’re this close to our goal.

Later requirements can be less strict, but this time, you must deliver!” Director Qian’s dark circles were pronounced, his eyes bloodshot as if ready to devour someone—results of countless sleepless nights.

He desperately wanted to prove something to Pokrovsky, and even more, he wanted to build the missile Huaguo needed most.

“Then Master Zhang will have to grind it slowly and see if he can make it,” Li muttered.

“Please ask Master Zhang—he’s the last one to cut in line.”

In an era without precision lathes, any demand for accuracy could only be met by hand-grinding.

At 3 a.m. on August 7, the concrete lid of the semi-buried launch silo slowly slid open; on the cathode-ray tube screen in the command bunker’s underground shelter, a green dot representing the missile’s real-time trajectory tore through the ionosphere.

Qian Xuesen noticed Pokrovsky’s pupils suddenly dilate—the expert who had led the Soviet P-2 missile design had never imagined the P-2 could possess such potential.

“Qian! This isn’t the P-2,” he stared fixedly at the screen, where the precision range displayed the astonishing figure of 500 meters.

Director Qian smiled triumphantly: “Of course this isn’t the P-2.

Didn’t we say from the beginning that we were developing the DF-1?”

Pokrovsky rose and gripped Director Qian’s hands tightly, staring into his eyes: “Qian, we are friends—you must tell me how you did this.”

As the P-2’s original designer, he simply could not believe this missile could have such potential.

Even their theoretical precision during design had never reached 500 meters.

Even if Qian’s DF-1 was merely a short-range surface-to-surface missile, 500-meter precision was enough to make all its flaws irrelevant.

What did 500 meters mean? That precision matched America’s most advanced short-range surface-to-surface missiles.

Such a missile had emerged in Huaguo—in a nation that had never developed an ICBM.

Pokrovsky found it unimaginable.

Yet he was also grateful—he was glad he hadn’t returned to Moscow with the other Soviet colleagues, but had chosen to stay longer, to witness this miracle.

After the translator conveyed Pokrovsky’s words to Director Qian, he sneered: “Sorry, it’s impossible.

You broke the agreement—you forfeited your right to share DF-1 technical data.

You abandoned it yourselves.”

“Qian, I apologize for underestimating your colleagues in Huaguo,” Pokrovsky’s Adam’s apple moved as his finger remained frozen on the peak curve of the seismograph paper: “But you must give me the technical data.”

Director Qian burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the cramped underground shelter: “Talking to me won’t help—I can’t decide.

But you’re right about one thing: you truly underestimated the people of Huaguo!”