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

That evening, a heated family meeting broke out at Liu Xiaodong's home.

When Liu's mother first heard that they were going to the Northwest to eat sand, she was extremely reluctant.

But when she saw the salary and benefits details on that document...

After her son threw a tantrum, threatening to starve himself if he didn't go, she remained silent for three minutes.

"Old Liu, go ahead," Liu's mother said decisively.

"We're both contract workers now, but we'll become permanent employees there."

"With such good pay and benefits, life will definitely be more comfortable than it is now."

"Besides..."

Liu's mother glanced at her son and said:

"Seeing our son like this, we have no choice but to go!"

Liu Xiaodong held the envelope containing half-finished code, grinning like a fool.

He could almost see a brand new digital world beckoning to him from that distant Gobi Desert.

This was a premeditated kidnapping.

And he willingly took the bait.

……

at the same time.

Beijing, Hongqi Machinery Factory, Workshop 3.

The machines roared, and oil stains were everywhere.

"Zhao Qiang! Are you fucking brainless?!"

A loud shout drowned out the roar of the machine tools.

The workshop foreman waved a piece of scrapped bearing steel in his hand, spitting all over Zhao Qiang's face:

"This is special steel! It's imported!"

"This one costs tens of yuan!"

"If you cut it down by even two strands, the thing is ruined!"

"Do you understand what it means to cripple me?"

Thirty-year-old Zhao Qiang kept his head down.

He was wearing work clothes that were covered in oil stains and whose original color was no longer recognizable.

He was thin and withered, wearing thick-rimmed glasses, and his hands were nervously rubbing the hem of his clothes.

"Director, the tolerances on those drawings were problematic to begin with..."

Zhao Qiang muttered a defense in a low voice, "If it's the clamp I designed..."

"Shut up!"

The director slammed the waste material down at his feet with a loud crash.

"Fixed fixtures? With your lousy blueprints?"

The director pointed at Zhao Qiang's nose, his face full of disappointment and frustration:

"Zhao Qiang, let me tell you, you're over thirty years old and you can't even pass the Level 4 worker exam."

"Everyone in the factory knows you're 'Zhao the Two-Stroke'—you're always two strokes short of everything!"

"If it weren't for the fact that your deceased father was an old worker at the factory, I would have fired you long ago!"

"Wasting the nation's food here!"

"Ha ha ha ha……"

The surrounding workers who were watching the commotion burst into laughter.

That laughter was jarring.

He bit his lip hard, his eyes brimming with tears, but he stubbornly refused to let them fall.

He knew he was clumsy and had poor coordination, and could never accurately control that last bit of force.

but……

He had simulated it countless times in his mind.

Those ingenious structures, those perfect stress analyses, those designs that can change existing processes...

Why is it that no one is even willing to take a single look?

Just then—

laugh--!

A sudden screech of brakes echoed at the workshop entrance.

A jeep with military license plates stopped, kicking up a cloud of dust.

The car door opened, and the factory manager got out with three men wearing woolen overcoats.

The leader, carrying a briefcase, exuded an aura of authority, his gaze sweeping across the room like a searchlight.

The laughter in the workshop stopped abruptly.

The workshop foreman's face twitched, then instantly broke into a smile:

"I'm Lao Wang, the workshop foreman. What can I do for you?"

"We're looking for someone."

The leading cadre interrupted coldly.

Looking for someone?

The director was taken aback. "Who are you looking for?"

"All the key technical personnel in our workshop are here. Is it Li Datou or Zhang Ermazi?"

"Zhao Qiang".

The cadre uttered two words, clear and forceful.

The air suddenly became quiet.

The workshop foreman blinked twice, wondering if he had misheard.

"Who? Zhao... Zhao Qiang?"

He turned around, pointed to Zhao Qiang in the corner who was preparing to clean up the waste, and laughed:

"Boss, you must have made a mistake?"

"That's our workshop's scrap king, notorious for his clumsy hands. Is it just a coincidence?"

"Zhao Qiang, a third-level fitter in the third workshop of Hongqi Machinery Factory."

The cadre read out the information from the file to confirm that it was correct.

He bypassed the stunned workshop director and walked straight up to Zhao Qiang.

Looking at the man in front of me, covered in grease and timid.

There was not a trace of disdain in the cadre's eyes; on the contrary, it revealed a deep respect.

That was something Lin Xi had specifically instructed her to do before she came.

"Comrade Zhao Qiang."

The official handed over a document with both hands.

"I am a representative of Hongxing Technology of the Seventh Ministry of Machinery Industry."

"I am here on behalf of Manager Lin Xi to extend this invitation to you."

Zhao Qiang was completely stunned, his mind went blank.

He stared at the outstretched hand, a greasy, black hand that seemed to want to reach out but dared not. He could only frantically wipe it on his pants, but the more he wiped, the dirtier it became, and the dirtier it became, the more panicked he grew.

"Looking for...me?"

Zhao Qiang's voice was hoarse, "I...I'm very clumsy, I can't even machine a bearing properly..."

"Manager Lin said so."

The official's voice rose a few decibels.

Wandering through the empty workshop, every word seemed like a nail driven into the ground.

"Zhao Qiang's hands may not be suited for tightening screws."

"But his mind is for designing the soul of industry!"

"Manager Lin has seen your previous manuscript on the 'flexible adaptive fixture'."

His assessment was—that represents the future direction of machine tool structural engineering in China for the next ten years!

boom!

Zhao Qiang felt like something had exploded in his head.

ten years?

direction?

That discarded blueprint, that scribble that everyone laughed at...

Did anyone understand it?

They even want to regard it as the ultimate truth?

"Approved by the organization."

The official shoved the document into Zhao Qiang's trembling hands.

"Comrade Zhao Qiang has been specially appointed to join the Red Star Laboratory."

"Enjoy expert-level treatment."

"Also, Manager Lin asked me to pass on a message to you."

The cadre paused, his gaze sweeping over the pale-faced workshop director beside him.

"In this world, some birds cannot be caged."

"Because their feathers are all imbued with the glory of the future."

pat.

A tear fell onto the official document, spreading a small patch of ink.

Zhao Qiang gripped the document tightly, his knuckles turning white.

Ten years of grievances and ten years of repression finally broke down at this moment.

"Ugh—!"

This 30-year-old man burst into tears like a child in front of everyone in the workshop.

He cried as he fiercely ripped off his filthy, stiff work clothes.

Stab it!

Buttons popped off, fabric tore.

He threw the clothes, which symbolized shame and shackles, onto the ground.

Screw Zhao Liangsi!

Screw the third-level worker!

I'm not putting up with this anymore!

Zhao Qiang wiped away his tears, revealing his frighteningly bright eyes.

He didn't even glance at the director, who was already terrified.

He straightened his back, which had been hunched over for thirty years, and bowed deeply to the cadres of the Seventh Ministry of Machinery Industry.

"Walk!"

"Let's go to the Northwest!"

"I'm going to draw everything in my head! I'm going to build it all up!"

……

In the early spring of 1981, the air was still chilly.

But on the map of China, dozens of unseen tracks, like rivers flowing into the sea, converge towards that remote coordinate point in the Northwest.

The green train puffed out white smoke, and its wheels clattered against the rails with a loud "humming" sound, like the war drums of an era.

The boy sat by the window, stroking the code in his arms, his eyes burning with a longing for the unknown world.

The man standing at the junction of the carriages gazed at the poplar trees rushing past the window, clutching a crumpled piece of paper tightly in his hand.

The wind picked up.

The young man named Lin Xi stood on the Gobi Desert in the northwest, with his arms outstretched.

He not only wants to create the best products.

He also wants to give the loneliest souls of this era a home that truly belongs to them.