Live Stream 1980: Netizens Teach Me How to Make a Rocket by Hand

Lin Xi stretched out a finger and pointed sharply in the air.

"Thirteen million RMB!"

"This includes a full eight million US dollars!"

boom!

These numbers were like a thunderclap, exploding directly in the conference room.

Zhang Zhengguo's cigarette butt fell onto his pants, burning a hole, but he was completely unaware, his mouth agape enough to fit an egg.

"How much...?"

The lid of the teacup in Wang Bin's hand fell onto the table with a "clang" and rolled twice.

Ten million?

Eight million US dollars?

In an era when the country's foreign exchange reserves were meager and every million dollars had to be carefully calculated.

This isn't money.

This is a nuclear weapon!

If this money were used to import the technologies and equipment that the country urgently needs, how much progress would that bring to the country?!

Seeing the stunned big shots, Lin Xi delivered the final and most fatal blow:

"The most crucial point is that this ten million is only my share."

"Those factories that cooperated, such as Huasheng and Hongfeng, also received profits and earned foreign exchange."

"I didn't keep all the profits to myself; everyone made money and received foreign exchange."

This is what we call a win-win situation.

I win twice, you win once.

The entire venue was deathly silent.

Only the wall clock ticked away.

Mr. Qian took off his glasses, took out a soft cloth, and slowly and meticulously wiped the glass.

No one noticed that the hand holding the glasses of this respected figure was trembling slightly.

That was exciting.

He was the commander-in-chief; he knew all too well how poor the base was.

Research funding can only be secured through persuasion, and subsidies for technical personnel often fail to materialize, leaving many preliminary research projects stuck on paper due to lack of funds.

Now, an intern has solved all these problems in six months.

What is disrupting the market?

What is disorderly expansion?

These accusations are nothing compared to eight million US dollars in foreign exchange reserves!

Mr. Qian put on his glasses and re-examined the young man in front of him.

His gaze was no longer scrutinizing, but rather filled with a sense of pride and domineering pride in looking at his own prodigy.

"Snapped!"

Mr. Qian slammed his hand on the table.

This time, it wasn't anger, but laughter.

The laughter was so hearty that it shook the roof.

"good!"

"What a brilliant technology tax!"

"What a wonderful ten million!"

Mr. Qian stood up, took the complaint letter, and in front of everyone, tore it in half and threw it into the trash can.

"Never mind!"

Old Qian's voice was resolute, carrying an overwhelming momentum.

"I hope there's as much 'disruption' as possible that can help the country earn back the money for the atomic bomb!"

"Lin Xi!"

"arrive!"

"Go for it! If the sky falls, the Seventh Ministry of Machinery Industry will hold it up for you!"

Mr. Qian pointed north, which was the direction of the capital.

"I'm going to curse out the people at the First Ministry of Machine Building!"

"I'll just ask them, with so many factories under their umbrella, which one can bring me eight million dollars in six months?"

"If you can't produce it, then shut the hell up!"

Zhang Zhengguo also came to his senses, looked at the cigarette hole in his pants, grinned, and grinned somewhat menacingly:

"Damn, this kid... he's a real talent!"

"Lin Xi, there's no rush about the wind tunnel!"

"Now that I have this money, I need to think carefully about how to spend it."

Lin Xi stood at attention, saluted again, and a bright smile appeared on his lips.

"Mission accomplished!"

This is more than just a victory.

This is Lin Xi's declaration that he has finally established himself in this era.

From this day forward, he is no longer an intern who needs to carefully avoid the rules.

He is the super ATM of the aerospace system, and the mastermind behind the game, wielding the heavy sword of foreign exchange.

Who dares to touch him?

......

In July, the sun in the northwest is so scorching that it seems to melt the asphalt roads.

The backyard of the Red Star Labor Service Center was filled with a festive atmosphere.

"Hey, I heard you're thinking of buying a Happiness 250 motorcycle?"

Sun Erga sat on a stool with his legs crossed.

He was holding a "Daqianmen" cigarette with a filter tip between his fingers.

The white polyester shirt he was wearing was dazzling, with two buttons popped open, revealing a brand-new tank top underneath.

"Buy my ass!"

Wang Dapao was twirling two iron walnuts he'd gotten from who-knows-where, his face glowing, and his voice booming like he was shouting Qinqiang opera.

"That thing needs to burn oil, and you need to pass a driving test."

"I just want to tear down those three mud-brick houses and build a two-story house!"

"Used entirely in red bricks, with cement grout!"

"Look at how pathetic you all are."

Liu Guihua was wiping her new leather shoes with a damp towel; the toes were so shiny they could be used as mirrors.

"Let me tell you, we're now part of the 'ten-thousand-yuan household' group."

"I'm planning to get my husband a new watch, a Shanghai brand!"

The yard was littered with sunflower seed shells, and the air was filled with the air of a "nouveau riche".

Since the news of "tens of millions in profit" spread within a small circle of employees.

These "useless" people who were once marginalized by the base are now floating on air, their heels barely touching the ground.

Even the most honest assemblers were affected.

Everyone's discussing whether they should hire a nanny so she won't have to pour her own foot bath water anymore.

"We've finally made it through this difficult period!"

Old Liu, Zhao Laizi's former henchman and now the warehouse manager, spat a mouthful of watermelon juice on the ground and stretched contentedly.

"From now on, we'll follow Manager Lin and live a life of luxury, resting on our laurels..."

"Bang!"

A loud bang, like a slap in the face, struck everyone hard.

The courtyard gate was kicked open.

The courtyard, which was once as bustling as a vegetable market, suddenly became deathly silent.

Lin Xi stood at the door.

His expression was calm, a calmness that was unsettling.

Those eyes swept over the sunflower seed shells scattered on the ground, the people sitting with their legs crossed, and those oily faces.

Sun Erga burned his fingers with the half-smoked cigarette in his hand. He shuddered and quickly threw the cigarette on the ground and stomped it out.

He stood up straight, like a primary school student who had just met the headmaster.

"Manager Lin... you're back?"

Liu Guihua quickly put her feet down from the stool and tugged at the corner of her clothes, looking somewhat flustered.

Lin Xi didn't say anything, and walked straight to the wooden table in the middle of the courtyard.

He unzipped his bag, pulled out a stack of documents, and slammed them on the table with a "thud."

"Are you all here?" Lin Xi's voice was unreadable.

"Life's pretty good, huh? Smoking Daqianmen cigarettes, eating watermelon, and even discussing building a small house?"

"That's...that's all thanks to you..."

Erga forced a smile, but his heart was pounding.

"Thanks to me?"

Lin Xi sneered and tapped the document on the table with her finger.

"Since everyone thinks they're capable and someone important."

"That's perfect. Let's not talk about production or profit sharing today. Let's start with the exam."

"An exam...?" Sun Erga was dumbfounded.

"These documents are supplementary agreements to the ocean bill of lading that Sears just sent."

"There are also the English terms and conditions for the product liability insurance for the next quarter."

Lin Xi braced her hands on the table, leaning forward, exuding an air of oppression.

"Whoever can read this first page down and translate it into Chinese, I will reward him with five hundred dollars on the spot."