Chapter 843

December 20, Sunday, Jingcheng, heavy snow.

The first snow of 1987 came a little late, but fell thickly, so thick that Liu Muhan complained bitterly as she came to Li Ye’s home.

“Phew, what a heavy snow! All the buses are canceled, the streets are nearly empty—I saw an old man ahead of me slip and fall, no one helped him for a long time until I got there and lifted him up.”

As Liu Muhan chatted with Wen Leyu, she took off her boots.

Snow had melted inside them; her socks were soaked—clearly, the snow outside was truly deep.

“Come here, little Bao, let Auntie hold you!”

After changing into slippers, Liu Muhan happily came over to pick up the child.

The two children were already seven months old, plump, healthy, and adorable, babbling cutely.

But as soon as Liu Muhan picked up Bao, he pouted and struggled fiercely, reaching his arms toward Li Ye.

“You’re chilling him—go warm up by the heater first.”

Li Ye took his son back and said, “With snow this deep, why rush over? What if you catch a cold? Won’t Grandpa Liu and Grandma Gao blame me?”

“They’d never blame you! You’re the very model of a young talent in their eyes—flawless in every way.”

Liu Muhan smirked, unpacked her luggage, and pulled out two items.

“This is venison my mom’s friend sent her—Mom said it’s perfect for snowy days and pushed me to bring it over to you right away.”

“My dad heard you like antiques and calligraphy, so he got a painting and scroll from an old friend and told me to bring it for you to appreciate.”

“.”

Li Ye looked at Liu Muhan’s gifts and couldn’t help saying, “This is too generous! If I didn’t know you well, I’d think you’re asking me for a favor!”

Liu Muhan shot Li Ye a sideways glance: “How many favors have you done for me already? Without you, my deputy division chief post would’ve been lost.”

Nearby, Wen Leyu smiled: “Oh, so you got promoted? You came over just to share the good news with us?”

Liu Muhan grinned: “All thanks to you, Xiao Yu! I thought I’d be stuck for two years—but we sealed four major tech import projects, and our director said if we didn’t promote me, it’d be impossible to justify.”

“.”

After returning from Japan, Professor Zhao, Liu Muhan, and Wen Leyu followed Li Ye’s advice and launched a batch-style tech import campaign, completely erasing the negative impact caused by Guo Huai’s suicide.

Li Ye smiled: “Then you’d better flatter my wife properly—she’s willing, she could push your promotion another level next year.”

“Really? Oh my, dear niece-in-law, you’ve got to help me—my rise to the top depends entirely on you!”

Liu Muhan playfully flattered Wen Leyu, affectionately looping her arm around hers.

Wen Leyu shrugged her off, half-joking, half-irritated: “You talk about climbing the ladder? I just started making a profit, and already spent so much—I’ve got colleagues calling me the ‘Scatterer of Wealth.’”

“.”

Since last year, Wen Leyu had continuously invested in mainland manufacturing. Thanks to Li Ye’s strategy of undercutting prices to build reputation, Laidong diesel engines and Changbei transmissions finally broke into the market, supplying light truck manufacturers like Jinbei and Yan, with strong profit momentum.

But compared to the speed of spending, the pace of earning was clearly insufficient—nowhere near the returns of many “premium projects” inside Zhongxin Company.

From its founding, Zhongxin Company had the motto “We do what state enterprises won’t,” making fast money hand over fist, so manufacturing’s high investment and slow returns couldn’t compete.

“Hehe, I was just joking, Xiao Yu—don’t listen to my nephew. I’m truly satisfied now; even with just these few projects, I can live off my savings until I reach division chief.”

Liu Muhan playfully teased Wen Leyu—she was always someone who knew when to stop; how could she let Wen Leyu keep spending money next year?

When the favor grows too great to repay, the relationship turns sour.

But Li Ye said: “No—I talked with Professor Zhao yesterday. Next year, we’ll ramp up tech imports further, aiming to bring in a complete industrial chain for modern automobile production.”

“Ramp up imports?”

This time, not only Liu Muhan was puzzled—even Wen Leyu was surprised.

Wen Leyu certainly supported Li Ye, but every time he listed what needed importing, it was always meticulously planned; this sudden shift left her confused.

Li Ye exhaled and said: “Our trade relations with the West have grown hotter these past two years—I think we should seize the chance to do more. After all, the world is unpredictable; opportunities like this don’t come twice.”

“.”

“Nephew, what do you mean? What’s this ‘opportunity won’t come again’? Our situation’s getting better every day!”

Liu Muhan didn’t understand Li Ye’s words, but Li Ye couldn’t explain them to her.

It was almost 1988—the window of best relations between the mainland and the West had barely over a year left; this truly was an opportunity that wouldn’t come again.

After that window closed, even slightly advanced technologies would be hard to buy, let alone sensitive ones.

In these very years, the Beacon was pushing F-16 fighter jets on the mainland—can you believe that, decades later?

Though four years later, the Soviet Union collapsed, giving the mainland many more tech import opportunities, some things remained behind.

For example, fighter jets: the Soviets excelled in mathematics, so their aircraft designs had stunning aerodynamic forms—but in other areas, they were far behind the West.

After 2000, China’s J-11 and J-10 were officially deployed, yet at the air force’s target range, the missile hit rate was highest—not on the J-11 or J-10—but on the much-maligned “Old Eight.”

The reason? The “Model Peace Program” between China and the Beacon.

This gap persisted until the 2020s, only closed after generations of Chinese aerospace engineers caught up.

When the J-35A debuted at the airshow, its engine spewing yellow flames, countless tech veterans with white hair wept with emotion.

In the afternoon, Liu Muhan left.

Only then did Wen Leyu quietly ask Li Ye: “When you said ‘opportunity won’t come again’ today—did you sense something unusual?”

Because Fu Guiru had made a fortune during the Beacon’s Black Monday, Wen Leyu now held Li Ye in near-reverence; every odd move he made, she assumed was “anticipating the enemy’s intent.”

Li Ye paused, then said gravely: “I didn’t sense anything unusual—I just deduced a principle from history.

The Beacon doesn’t understand us—they think if relations are good, we’ll be a loyal lackey. But the mainland is too vast; once it begins rapid development, intentions can’t be hidden.

Think of Liu Bang. Think of Gou Jian.

Our Huajia has never had the habit of being second.”

“Second?”

Wen Leyu stared at Li Ye in surprise, pondering the meaning of “second.”

In 1987, world powers still abounded—no matter how you counted, Huajia couldn’t possibly rank second.