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

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

This time, the knocking was steady and forceful, unlike the impatient knocking of the communications officer, Xiao Wang.

"Who is it? In the middle of the night," Lin Hongsheng muttered as he went to open the door with his chopsticks.

As soon as the bolt was pulled open, a chilling aura mixed with a murderous atmosphere rushed out.

Two men in dark green military overcoats stood outside the door, their postures upright like pine trees, and the bulging shape of their waists was immediately recognized by Lin Hongsheng as gun holsters.

One of them stepped forward and showed his identification, the red cover of which was particularly eye-catching in the snowy night.

"Comrade Lin Hongsheng, we are from the Logistics Department of Shenyang Military Region. The commander attaches great importance to the technical demonstration Comrade Lin Jiaoyue gave in the workshop tonight and would like to invite her over... There are some urgent questions about frontline equipment that need to be asked in person."

The man paused, then looked past Lin Hongsheng and into the house: "The car is already waiting at the alley entrance. Please set off immediately, Mr. Lin."

The chopsticks in Lin Hongsheng's hand fell to the ground with a "clatter".

Inside the house, Lin Jiaoyue, who was about to steal some braised pig's trotters from her storage space, suddenly froze, almost dropping the trotters in her hand.

So soon? I'm afraid I won't be able to eat this bowl of noodles.

Logistics Department of Shenyang Military Region.

These words carry immense weight these days. They represent the rear area during the Korean War, responsible for the food, drink, shelter, and ammunition of hundreds of thousands of volunteer soldiers on the front lines. When these people showed up late at night, amidst the thick smoke of opium, it usually meant one of two extremes: either they had performed an extraordinary service, or they had committed a capital offense.

"Comrade," Lin Hongsheng's business-savvy fake smile faltered, his lips twitching stiffly. He instinctively stepped forward, blocking most of the view into the doorway like a mountain, shielding his daughter tightly behind him. "The child is being unreasonable. Did she cause trouble at the factory? I'm her father. A father's fault is a son's fault if he's not properly taught. Tell me what happened. I'll go apologize to the superior. I'll go sit down... I'll take responsibility!"

The leading soldier was a man in his thirties with a square face and a faint old scar on his brow. He looked fierce, but surprisingly spoke politely. However, his undeniable authority was impossible to hide: "Engineer Lin didn't cause any trouble. A batch of equipment at the front has encountered a major problem, it's extremely urgent. According to Director Zhao's report, Engineer Lin showed off his exceptional skills tonight, and the commander is demanding to see him. The vehicle is outside, the engine is still running, we need to hurry."

After saying that, he raised his wrist to look at the badly worn military watch, his brows furrowed: "Any later and we really won't make it to the special train."

Inside, the atmosphere was so heavy it felt like it was about to freeze.

But at this very moment, Lin Jiaoyue was staring blankly at the bowl of noodles on the table, which had just been poached with an egg, sprinkled with tender yellow scallions, and drizzled with sesame oil. A few golden drops of oil floated on the surface of the noodle soup, and wisps of steam rose, making one's mouth water.

She sighed softly, her voice tinged with regret.

This broth was made by her father using old hen stock, and the noodles were hand-pulled noodles bought from a time-honored brand through a friend; they're really chewy.

"Um... can I bring some food?"

That sudden, clear, and sweet voice completely caught the three grown men at the door off guard.

Lin Hongsheng turned around abruptly, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets, only to see his daughter pointing longingly at the bowl of noodles, her serious expression even more earnest than when she heard she was going to see the big boss.

The leading soldier paused for a moment, then a strange look appeared on his tense, square face. He'd probably never seen a technical expert thinking about food at a time like this before. His lips twitched, and he nodded: "Take them with you. There's heating in the car, you won't get cold."

With permission granted, Lin Jiaoyue quickly rummaged through the cupboard and pulled out a lidded enamel lunchbox. With a "whoosh," she poured in the soup and noodles all at once, then carefully placed the still-sizzling, runny poached egg on top. Finally, she didn't forget to pour in half of the thinly sliced ​​braised beef.

"Dad, let's go." She held the lunchbox, her expression solemn.

Lin Hongsheng was taken aback, then pointed to himself: "Me too?"

"The commander specifically instructed that since Engineer Lin is a minor, you may accompany him." The soldier stepped aside to make way, gesturing for him to enter. "Master Lin, please."

Hearing this, Lin Hongsheng finally felt a sense of relief. As long as he was with her, he was the first to hold up the sky if it fell. Without saying a word, he turned around, grabbed the thick cotton-padded coat, wrapped his daughter up like a dumpling, put his own fur hat on his head, and casually picked up the half-pack of "Da Qianmen" cigarettes from the table and stuffed them into his pocket.

Outside the courtyard gate, the wind and snow intensified. Sure enough, a dark green Jeep was parked at the alley entrance, its body covered with a thin layer of snow. These days, such a car was rarer than a giant panda; it was a symbol of status and power.

The neighbors had all gone to bed long ago. Only Aunt Wang's dog next door barked twice when it heard the noise. The sound was muffled by the strong wind and sounded like a whimper, which was quite eerie.

The car was indeed warm. Lin Jiaoyue sat in the back seat, holding a lunchbox in her arms. Ignoring the officer sitting next to her, she opened the lid and started slurping noodles.

"Slurp—slurp—"

The sound was exceptionally loud in the quiet carriage, where you could hear a pin drop, and even echoed slightly.

Lin Hongsheng sat in the passenger seat, his body taut like a fully drawn bow, his ears perked up, trying to glean some clue from the driver's movements or the noises in the back seat. But the officer sat upright, staring straight ahead, like a clay statue of a bodhisattva, not even blinking.

"Um... Comrade, what's your surname?" Lin Hongsheng took out the half-pack of cigarettes, his hand trembling slightly, and tentatively handed it over.

"My surname is Zhou, Zhou Lijun," the driver replied without turning his head or accepting the cigarette. "Discipline dictates I don't smoke."

Lin Hongsheng awkwardly withdrew his hand, rubbing the cigarette between his fingers, his mind racing. Zhao Weiguo had just reported the situation, and the car had arrived, indicating the matter was extremely urgent. Since it was urgent, it meant his daughter's skills were a necessity, a lifeline. And since it was a necessity, it was safe for now, even something to be cherished.

Having figured this out, he looked back.

Lin Jiaoyue tilted her head back, finished the last mouthful of noodle soup, let out a satisfied burp, and then took out a lace-trimmed handkerchief from her pocket to wipe the grease from her mouth. Her carefree demeanor both amused and exasperated Lin Hongsheng, whose eyes welled up slightly.

How can this girl be so carefree?

In fact, Lin Jiaoyue's mind was racing.

The front lines, equipment, extreme cold. These three words, put together, along with the brittle gear incident tonight, gave her a rough idea of ​​what the problem was.

In the early stages of the Korean War, the biggest enemy facing the Chinese People's Volunteer Army was not only the UN forces' artillery fire, but also that damned "General Frost." The sub-zero temperatures of minus 30 to 40 degrees Celsius on the Gaema Plateau rendered many conventional weapons useless. Bolts wouldn't pull back, firing pins broke, and mortar mounts shattered…

These are the introductory nightmares of materials science, and also its most fatal weaknesses.

The car didn't go to any secret military base, but instead drove directly into a special military passage at Harbin Railway Station.

On the platform, a dark train was parked, its engine belching white steam. All around were heavily armed soldiers, guards every three steps, sentries every five, their bayonets gleaming coldly in the snowy night.

"Get out of the car." Zhou Lijun parked the car and deftly opened the car door.

Lin Hongsheng's legs trembled slightly; this scene was ten times more intimidating than when he negotiated with the Shanghai underworld back in the day. But he straightened his back, like a mother hen protecting her chicks, tightly guarding her daughter's side.

The two were led to the middle carriage.

The main lights in the carriage weren't on; only a few dim kerosene lamps illuminated the scene, casting flickering shadows. Maps and blueprints were spread across the long table, and the air was thick with smoke, making it difficult to open one's eyes.

At the end of the table sat a middle-aged man in a Zhongshan suit, his temples graying, his eyes sunken, frowning as he looked at a telegram in his hand, his knuckles white from the pressure. Standing beside him were several staff officers in military uniforms and experts wearing glasses, their faces solemn, as if they had lost their parents, barely daring to breathe.

Hearing footsteps, the middle-aged man looked up.