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

Guangzhou, Liuhua Road Exhibition Hall.

Deep inside Hall C of the Autumn Canton Fair.

This is the most "desolate" place in the entire exhibition.

There were no colorful flags like those at the Light Industry Pavilion, and no constant hawking.

The enormous model of the Long March carrier rocket almost reached the ceiling.

Painted in jungle camouflage, the "Red Spear-2" anti-tank missile launcher resembles a crouching beast, its dark launch tubes exuding a chilling deterrent power.

Right under the armpits of this pile of steel behemoths, there stood a glass counter covered with velvet.

Inside the counter, there was neither a precision gyroscope nor a microwave radar assembly; instead, two things lay there all alone:

A light blue "Red Star Gentle Breeze" electric fan.

A matte black "Red Star Whirlwind" razor.

How can this scene be described?

It's like a little girl in a lace dress selling lipstick sneaking into a group of Spartan warriors in heavy armor.

It feels incredibly incongruous.

"Brother Wang, will this... will this work?"

Sun Erga shrank his neck.

I looked at the missile tail fin on the left, which was as thick as a thigh.

Then I looked at the satellite solar panels on the right that looked like alien weapons.

I felt like I didn't even dare to breathe loudly.

"We sell small home appliances, not weapons."

"I just saw a foreign guest pass by; he was so frightened by that missile that his face turned pale. He was too scared to even walk around it, let alone see our razors."

Section Chief Wang, who was in charge of liaison, also looked utterly hopeless, sighing as he held a chipped enamel mug.

"Brother Erga, you should be content."

Section Chief Wang sighed and pointed to the banner above his head.

"Do you know why we were crammed here?"

Sun Erga shook his head.

"It's all because of your precious manager."

Section Chief Wang lowered his voice and glanced at Lin Xi, who was squatting on the ground.

"During a previous meeting at the ministry, Vice Minister Liu from the First Ministry of Machine Building slammed his fist on the table, demanding that people be brought in."

"They say Lin Xi is a once-in-a-century genius in civilian products, and it would be a waste to put him in the Seventh Ministry of Machinery Industry to build missiles. They have to snatch Lin Xi away."

"That won't do!" Sun Erga exclaimed anxiously.

"We were born into the Seventh Ministry of Machinery Industry, and we'll die as its ghosts!"

"That's right! That's what Mr. Zhang said at the time."

Section Chief Wang mimicked Zhang Zhengguo's tone, slamming the enamel mug onto the table.

"Mr. Zhang exploded on the spot."

"Pointing his finger at Minister Liu, he yelled: 'Trying to reap the benefits? Did you even ask my Seventh Ministry of Machinery Industry for permission for rockets? Even if Red Star only makes a toothpick, it's still a toothpick for my aerospace system!'"

Section Chief Wang shrugged:

"That's how it ends."

"In order to assert sovereignty, General Manager Zhang said that Hongxing's products must be displayed in the core booth of the Seventh Ministry of Machinery Industry."

"Even if it looks out of place next to missiles, we will never give the First Ministry of Machine Building any chance to 'poach' our staff."

Sun Erga was dumbfounded, and after a long while he managed to stammer, "This...this is way too protective of its own."

"Protecting one's own?"

Lin Xi, who had been fiddling with the spotlight, stood up and dusted off her hands.

At this moment, he was wearing a well-tailored white shirt with the cuffs rolled up, revealing his muscular forearms.

"Erga, you're too narrow-minded."

Lin Xi pointed to the glass counter that was illuminated by spotlights, a playful smile curving her lips.

"This isn't embarrassing, this is called—a dimensional reduction attack."

"Down...what?" Sun Erga looked completely bewildered.

Lin Xi walked to the counter and gently tapped the glass surface with her fingers.

"Go take a look at the light industry pavilion. What are those vendors selling fans and hair dryers competing on?"

"Compete on price, compete on color, compete on who can shout the loudest at their booth."

"That's a farmers' market."

Lin Xi shook her head, her eyes becoming deep.

"And here we are, an armory."

He pointed to the red spear missile next to him.

"We want to tell the whole world."

"Our razors are produced on the production line of these big machines."

"Do you think a man would still care about a few dozen dollars' difference if he knew the razor he was using had the same lineage as a missile?"

Sun Erga was stunned.

He looked at the black razor; under the spotlight, it seemed no longer just a simple household item.

Rather, it is a kind of precise, cold, and violently aesthetic industrial totem.

"Brother, you have such a big mouth..."

Sun Erga swallowed hard. "They really can talk the dead back to life."

As they were talking, a foreigner wearing a light gray suit walked in from the end of the exhibition hall corridor.

Judging from his name tag, he was a French merchant.

The guy wiped his sweat, ran to the booth, and complained:

"What the hell?! I came here to find 'Red Star Gentle Breeze'!"

"My friend brought one back, and it's the best fan I've ever used! I want to sell it in France!"

"Turns out the Light Industry Pavilion wasn't there at all. I almost thought I'd been scammed. I walked around three times before being directed here!"

The Frenchman was grumbling and wiping his sweat when his eyes were suddenly drawn to something in another display case. He was about to complain to the staff when his gaze was suddenly drawn to something in another display case.

Among a pile of rough, heavy machinery, there was that exquisite little thing, as delicate as a work of art.

It's too eye-catching.

The Frenchman stopped, pointed with a puzzled expression at the razor, and then at the missile launcher next to him.

"Hello," he asked in broken English.

"Is this some kind of new... detonator?"

Just as the translator next to her was about to explain, Lin Xi smiled and raised her hand to stop her, then stepped out of the booth.

"Sir," Lin Xi said in fluent English.

"This is not a detonator."

"This is a personal facial cleansing system that we developed using satellite attitude control technology."

"Satellite...technology?" The Frenchman felt a little confused.

"Yes." Lin Xi pointed to the towering satellite model next to him.

"The machine you see uses the same permanent magnet material as this satellite."

"To ensure stability in a zero-gravity environment, we controlled the dynamic balancing precision to the micrometer level."

To put it simply...

Lin Xi shrugged and handed the $100 "high-tech product" to the Frenchman.

"We built a razor using the standards for building a space shuttle."

The Frenchman held the heavy machine and pressed the switch.

hum-

The sound is deep and pleasant, and the vibration is barely perceptible on the device.

He looked up again at the menacing missile, and the image of the razor blade precisely maneuvering in space orbit instantly flashed through his mind.

A strange sense of admiration arose spontaneously.

In the eyes of Westerners, although China's light industry is backward, its military industry and aerospace industry are really good.

A country that can send satellites into space, using this scrap technology to make a razor, is just... what's that word again?

Yes, a dimensional reduction attack!

The Frenchman fondled the feel of the skin-like coating.

The touch reminded him of the skin of a French lover, but the core of this thing was so tough.

This is the kind of thing a man should use!

......

Next, the booth of the Seventh Ministry of Machinery Industry became the most bizarre sight in Hall C.

Due to the influence of the summer market in the United States, many foreign businesses have come to seek out "Red Star" fans.

Upon arriving here, before I could even glance at the fan, I was completely captivated by the "satellite-level" razor next to it.

Hall C, which is supposed to be a heavy industry venue, was completely surrounded by a group of foreign businessmen with light industry needs.

Just then, two more blond-haired, blue-eyed foreigners squeezed their way to the front of the booth with the crowd.