1950s: After transmigrating into a capitalist, I relied on military industry to achieve a comeback.

In November in Harbin, the wind feels like it's carrying blades, seeping in through the collar of a cotton-padded coat and scraping a layer of skin off a person.

Lin Jiaoyue stood at the entrance of the technical department of Hongxing Machinery Factory, tightening the scarf around her neck, the job offer letter in her hand warm from being squeezed.

She took a deep breath, just like she did before giving a performance review at a large company in her past life, adjusted her micro-expressions, and then abruptly lifted the heavy cotton curtain.

"call--"

A wave of heat, mixed with the smells of dry tobacco, coal ash, and musty old paper, hit me.

The fire in the stove was burning brightly, the tin chimney glowing red, occasionally sputtering out sparks. But even hotter than the fire were the dozen or so gazes that clung to you like searchlights.

"Oh, so this is the...genius that Factory Director Zhao handpicked?"

In the corner, an old man holding an enamel mug emphasized the word "genius" so much that it sounded like he was cursing.

Section Chief Sun Weiguo looked up from behind a mountain of blueprints. He wore thick-rimmed black glasses with a bottle-bottom rim, and his sharp eyes, like calipers, scrutinized the delicate young woman in front of him.

"Lin Jiaoyue?" Sun Weiguo tapped the table, his tone indifferent. "Factory Director Zhao spoke to me, saying that you showed some skill in Workshop No. 2, and that you have a bit of 'talent'."

A few snickers rang out in the office.

These days, everyone who gets into a technical department has toiled their way up from apprenticeship to the top. This guy just parachuted in, and he's a young girl who looks like she can't lift a finger, but he's getting the treatment of an eighth-grade worker. Who would be happy about that?

The air was thick with a sour, gunpowder-like smell.

Lin Jiaoyue seemed to lack that sensitive nerve. She took off her scarf, revealing a face that was slightly red from the cold but still fair, with a "clear stupidity" in her almond-shaped eyes, and bowed gracefully.

"Greetings, Section Chief Sun, and greetings to all my mentors. I don't have any special talent; I just stumbled upon it by chance. My elders left me a few difficult foreign language books, and I just read them by heart. Now that I'm in this department, I'll have to rely on you all to teach me step by step. Please bear with me."

These words were perfectly worded. They neither denied the "genius" persona that Director Zhao valued, nor did they deny the position of a junior, thus giving these veterans ample face.

Sun Weiguo's expression softened slightly, and he pointed to a young man scratching his head in the corner: "Xiao Zhang, you mentor her. Don't underestimate Xiao Lin just because she's young; she's a special hire from the factory, dedicated to solving difficult problems. You two should exchange ideas."

With a loud "clang".

The old man who had been acting strangely slammed the enamel lid he was holding onto the table.

"Special appointment? Troubleshooting?" The old man squinted, a cold smile playing on his lips. "Young girl, this is the heart of the Red Star Factory, not a playground. Don't think you can become an expert just because you've memorized a few foreign phrases. Some things require years of training!"

The questioning gazes instantly turned into knives, stabbing at Lin Jiaoyue.

Lin Jiaoyue didn't respond and went straight to the table of the young man named Zhang Lijun.

At this moment, Zhang Lijun was frowning over a diagram of gear meshing on a Soviet machine tool. He was sweating profusely, and the beads on his abacus were clicking away. The paper was even roughened by the eraser.

"What's wrong, Brother Zhang? You feel it's unfair?" Lin Jiaoyue leaned over to take a look.

Zhang Lijun replied irritably, "The original drawings from the Soviet experts were incredibly precise, with data down to four decimal places. Even a slight change would alter the entire transmission shaft's specifications. As Engineer Zhang said, it's like pulling one hair and affecting the whole body—it's extremely difficult!"

The old man next to him snorted again: "Xiao Zhang, what's the use of talking to her? Can she even read the Russian on the blueprints? That's the culmination of the wisdom of Soviet experts, and it's our current technological barrier..."

"Technological barriers?"

Lin Jiaoyue raised her eyebrows slightly, her gaze sweeping over the densely packed data on the blueprint.

Just three seconds.

A hint of coldness and disdain, befitting a top engineer, flashed in her almond-shaped eyes that had previously appeared harmless.

In her past life, when she was working on algorithms at a top tech company, this level of data processing was considered a waste of computing power even to run a script.

"What kind of barrier is this? It's just a simple thermodynamic conversion, isn't it?"

Lin Jiaoyue's voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly throughout the quiet office.

The entire room fell silent.

The old man's eyes widened: "What did you say? Simple?"

"Brother Zhang," Lin Jiaoyue ignored the old man's shock, extended a slender, fair finger, and pointed to the bearing position on the drawing, her tone as calm as if discussing what to have for dinner, "You completely copied the original Soviet data for the tolerance settings of this set of gears, didn't you?"

Zhang Lijun was taken aback: "Yes, how could Soviet blueprints be wrong?"

"The blueprints are correct, but the environment has changed."

Lin Jiaoyue casually picked up a pencil from the table and quickly wrote down a series of formulas in the blank space of the drawing. Her hand speed was extremely fast, and the formulas flowed out like flowing water, requiring no thought at all.

"Although it's cold in the Soviet Union too, their workshop heating standard is a constant 20 degrees Celsius. But in our workshop number two, the temperature can drop to minus 20 degrees Celsius at night when the furnace is shut off. Did you take into account the coefficient of thermal expansion and contraction of metals for that 40-degree temperature difference?"

She paused, drew a circle on the final result, and presented her conclusion:

"If this coefficient isn't corrected, there's nothing wrong with working during the day, but once the machine is shut down at night, the gears will definitely be locked up the next morning, and you won't even be able to turn the crank. It's like wearing a tight-fitting suit to go winter swimming; it's no wonder you freeze."

"I suggest increasing the tolerance by 0.02 mm and using a low-temperature-specific No. 7 lubricating oil."

After saying that, she tossed the pencil aside, dusted off her hands, and gave a faint smile: "So this has touched on everyone's blind spots? It seems that the 'basic physics knowledge' mentioned in that foreign book is quite useful."

The entire room fell silent.

Sun Weiguo had somehow appeared behind him, staring at the formula as if he had seen a ghost.

"Wait...wait!" Sun Weiguo's voice trembled. "Xiao Lin, you...did you do that in your head?"

Zhang Lijun suddenly looked up, completely dumbfounded. He looked at his draft paper, soaked with sweat and with frayed edges, covered with countless wrong calculations; then he looked at the neat and tidy result that Lin Jiaoyue had casually written down.

"This is impossible!" Zhang Lijun screamed, grabbing the abacus like a madman and frantically calculating.

The other technicians in the office also gathered around, holding their breath and staring at Zhang Lijun's hands.

One minute, two minutes...

"Snap!" One of the abacus beads in Zhang Lijun's hand got stuck because he used too much force.

He slumped into the chair, completely exhausted, staring blankly at Lin Jiaoyue, his lips trembling: "Yes...exactly. I couldn't calculate the temperature difference compensation after an hour...and you figured it out in three seconds?"

"hiss--!"

A series of gasps of astonishment filled the air.

"Mental calculation of physics coefficients to four decimal places? Is this a human brain or an abacus expert?"

"Did I see that right? She didn't even write a draft, and just gave the result?"

The old man who had been making sarcastic remarks just moments before now had a face as red as a liverish color, and the enamel mug in his hand trembled so much that water spilled out. He rubbed his eyes, staring at the formula in disbelief: "This... what school of algorithm is this? I've never seen it before!"

At this moment, Zhang Lijun's gaze toward Lin Jiaoyue had completely changed from contempt to terror, and then that terror quickly transformed into an almost fanatical worship.

"Lin... Engineer Lin!" Zhang Lijun jumped up, not even caring that the chair he was sitting on had overturned. He even used honorifics. "What's wrong with your brain? This is like a complete dimensional collapse! I just thought I was doing some kind of 'precision engineering,' but now I feel like I'm just playing with mud!"

Sun Weiguo took a deep breath, calming his wildly beating heart, and looked at Lin Jiaoyue with a hint of awe: "Little Lin, no, Comrade Lin. Director Zhao said you have talent, but he was being conservative. This isn't just talent; this is the innate soul of an engineer!"

Lin Jiaoyue smiled faintly, concealing her achievements, and turned to sit down at her workstation.

She knew perfectly well that in a place like the technical department, you couldn't gain a foothold by pretending to be stupid; you had to rely on this kind of "exceptionally outstanding" talent.

……