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

While Lin Xi was dealing with the Soviets, Zhao Qiang was not idle either.

He locked himself in the corner of the room, a pencil between his fingers, seemingly absentmindedly drawing a few circles and intersecting zigzag lines on a blank sheet of scrap paper.

The people monitoring outside couldn't understand it; they just thought he was calculating trigonometric functions.

In fact, Zhao Qiang was using a set of notations that only he understood to record the internal mechanical structure of Toshiba machine tools on paper.

The gear module is represented by Go terminology, the bearing model is represented by mahjong tile codes, and the direction of the oil return groove is drawn as a Yellow River water system map.

After finishing one page, he would turn the page and draw a few freehand landscapes on the new page, all while leisurely humming a Qinqiang opera tune.

In Lin Xi's mind, the live stream comments flashed by rapidly:

[Brother Zhao's encryption method is brilliant! The KGB's decryption team will probably have to ask experts from the Palace Museum to translate it!]

[What kind of bearing is "Cannon 2 to 5"? What gear set is "All One Color"? I suggest publishing "Zhao's Industrial Cryptography" directly.]

......

On the evening of the fifth day, the Soviet experts looked at the thick stack of optimized code they had compiled and excitedly embraced each other.

Yuri solemnly grasped Lin Xi's hand and thanked her repeatedly.

"Thank you, Dr. Lin."

"You haven't kept anything from me these past few days."

Lin Xi smiled and simply said, "It's all just technical exchange."

An hour later, in the Security Council headquarters building office.

The head of the expert group stood ramrod straight and handed the report to Victor:

"Comrade Vice Chairman, we have thoroughly grasped the machining compensation logic of five-axis linkage!"

"After another half month of testing, the four machine tools will be able to officially begin processing the seven-bladed large skew propeller."

The team leader paused for a moment, his tone filled with genuine respect:

"The Chinese experts have indeed been holding nothing back these past few days."

"He answered every question thoroughly, truly sharing all his knowledge without reservation."

Victor leaned back in his chair, flipping through the report, his face, which had been tense for fourteen months, finally relaxing completely.

Four Toshiba machine tools burned seven expensive titanium alloy test pieces, and three expert teams all returned empty-handed.

The Chinese team arrived in five days and got it sorted out!

Once the new attack submarines are equipped with these extremely low-noise propellers, the people of the beacon nation across the ocean will have sleepless nights.

"I will report this to my superiors truthfully."

Victor closed the file, his tone less bureaucratic.

"Subsequent technical transactions are proceeding normally."

Sergeyev sat on the sofa without speaking, only silently lowering his head, his gaze falling on the hideous old scar on the web of his left hand.

The exchange of national interests, the life-or-death friendship between individuals, and the shock at the speed of China's industrial rise—a mixture of emotions welled up in his chest, leaving him somewhat unable to discern the true feelings.

After a long pause, he raised his head and echoed:

"really."

"Normal transaction."

……

Two days later, at a freight station on the outskirts of Mo City.

Three heavy-haul freight trains, each with dozens of carriages, slowly pulled into the platform, churning through the wind and snow.

The heavy canvas was unfurled, and the Soviet receiving personnel checked the items against the list one by one:

One hundred thousand pieces of pure cotton textiles, two thousand tons of canned pork, and ten thousand thermos bottles.

Next up is Hongxing Technology Light Industry Electrical Appliances.

Two thousand color TVs, three thousand twin-tub washing machines, ten thousand electric fans, and five hundred Little Tyrant learning machines.

The goods were diverted on the same day and quickly flooded into every corner of Mo City.

......

The apartment of a deputy minister of a heavy industry ministry in downtown Moscow.

The deputy minister was sitting on the sofa rubbing his temples.

His wife had been throwing a tantrum for two days.

The Soviet-made Rubin brand TV at home is broken again. The screen is full of static, and the electrical noise when it is turned on is so loud it hurts your ears.

The repairman had said long ago that the picture tube was severely aged and it wouldn't be surprising if it exploded one day.

His wife asked him to find a way to get an imported high-end car.

In the current environment, it's not so easy to bring in Western home appliances.

On his way home from get off work, the deputy minister passed by the "Little Birch Shop," which was only open to privileged individuals. Hearing that a batch of Chinese color TVs had just arrived, he simply used his privileges to buy one.

That evening, they turned on the power and plugged in the antenna.

With a soft "snap," the TV screen lit up instantly.

There was no harsh electrical noise, and no long black screen while waiting for the picture tube to warm up.

The colors are vibrant, the signal is stable, and the channel-changing knob is crisp and clean.

The young and beautiful wife came out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee, and her eyes lit up when she saw the clear figure in the picture.

She turned around and kissed the deputy minister on the cheek.

"It was a good buy."

The vice minister was pleased and thought about going to the Little Birch Shop the next day to get one for his father-in-law as well.

The next day at noon, he was stunned when he pushed open the glass door of the store.

The privileged families, who usually live a respectable life, are now arguing loudly around the appliance counter.

Huaguo color TVs have long been sold out.

Next to the last twin-tub washing machine, two middle-aged women in mink coats were gripping the packaging box tightly, neither of them letting go.

"I've already paid with foreign exchange certificates!"

"This is mine!"

"You haven't even issued a delivery note!"

Another woman turned and shouted towards the door, even calling in her own bodyguard; the situation was on the verge of erupting into conflict.

The vice minister's eyelids twitched as he looked at it.

These women's husbands would shake hands and exchange pleasantries when they met in the Kremlin corridors.

Now, over a Chinese washing machine, the security guards almost got into a standoff at the store entrance.

……

At the same time, in the apartment of the Third Secretary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

The wife stood in the bathroom, looking at the newly installed Huaguo twin-tub washing machine, and almost held her breath as she put a silk dress inside.

The machine started running quietly, the water gently caressing the skirt, and the chassis remained stable.

Fifteen minutes later, the washing was finished, and she took the long dress out.

It is intact, and every piece of fabric is as smooth as new.

Lyudmila held up her wet dress, her eyes instantly welling up with tears.

Only those who have experienced a Soviet-made washing machine can understand why she was so excited.

The washing machine they built themselves, once started, is like a tractor.

It leaked water halfway through the wash, and the pulsator was spinning so violently it was like a paper shredder.

Over the past three years, that Volga washing machine has ruined seven of her dresses and a cashmere shawl.

She wiped her eyes and gently patted the white exterior of the washing machine.

"From now on, I'm counting on you."