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

"Chen Mo, set up the beaker and heat it in a water bath. Keep the temperature at 60 degrees Celsius, with a margin of error of no more than 2 degrees. This old-fashioned method will oxidize the ethylene glycol if the temperature gets too high."

"Gao Jianguo, you're in charge of stirring. Clockwise, 60 revolutions per minute. If you stir too fast, it will bubble, or if you stir too slow, it will clump together, and this whole batch will be ruined, and you can forget about getting your luncheon meat."

Upon hearing the words "luncheon meat," Gao Jianguo shuddered, grabbed the glass rod, and his expression became more solemn than if he were going into battle: "Don't worry, Lin! I'll treat this beaker like my own son, okay?!"

Soon, the workshop was filled with the sharp whistling sound of lathes cutting metal; Liu Dachui had started working. Each pass of the cutting tool was steady and precise, clearly demonstrating his exceptional skill.

In the makeshift "laboratory" in the corner, three grown men surrounded Lin Jiaoyue, not daring to utter a sound.

Lin Jiaoyue held the dropper, her eyes fixed on the liquid in the beaker. The pale yellow ethylene glycol flowed slowly in the hot water, emitting a slightly sweet chemical smell. Her hand was very steady; each drop of additive created a tiny ripple on the surface of the liquid before quickly dissolving.

"This...will this work?" Song Siming adjusted his glasses, looking at the pot of oil that was getting darker and darker, looking exactly like gutter oil. His heart pounded. "Lin, I read in a book that synthetic oils require high-pressure reactors. Are we just going to use this broken beaker? Don't we need a centrifuge or something?"

"The conditions are basic, but we'll have to make do." Lin Jiaoyue didn't even look up, the dropper hovering above the liquid surface. "The essence of a chemical reaction is molecular recombination, and molecules don't care about the quality of the container. It's like stewing braised pork; as long as the heat is right and the ingredients are correct, whether you stew it in an earthenware pot or a pressure cooker, the meat will be tender."

It's food again.

Gao Jianguo swallowed hard, his stomach growled in agreement, and he spun the glass rod in his hand even more steadily.

Forty minutes later.

The liquid in the pot turned into a translucent amber color, with a viscous texture, and shimmered with a faint luster under the light, looking like some kind of inferior honey.

Lin Jiaoyue used a glass rod to pick up a small amount and drew out a long, crystal-clear thread without breaking.

"It's done." She breathed a sigh of relief, a fine layer of sweat appearing on the tip of her nose.

"That's... done?" Gao Jianguo stared wide-eyed at the drink in disbelief. "This is too hasty! Didn't you need to use a microscope to check the molecular structure?"

"Practice is the sole criterion for testing truth." Lin Jiaoyue took out a White Rabbit candy and stuffed it into her mouth to replenish the sugar she had rapidly depleted. "Come on, let's go outside and freeze. Let's see what they're made of."

January in Beijing is the coldest time of year, with outdoor temperatures approaching minus twenty degrees Celsius.

Several people carried beakers and a box of the Soviet-made butter they usually used to walk onto the playground. The cold wind was like a knife, swirling with snowflakes that stung their faces.

Lin Jiaoyue wrapped her cotton-padded coat tighter around herself, hunched her shoulders, and instructed, "Put it there, right where it's in the wind. Wait half an hour."

For those waiting for the results, that half hour felt longer than half a century.

Gao Jianguo stamped his feet from the cold, while Song Siming kept breathing on his glasses to dry them. Only Chen Mo squatted in the snow like a statue, his eyes fixed on the two lumps of oil, motionless.

Only Lin Jiaoyue was not flustered; in fact, she was a little bored.

She glanced at the three trembling "ice sculptures," shook her head helplessly, and reached into the pocket of her oversized work clothes—using the pocket as cover, she quickly grabbed a handful of things from the snack section of the storage space.

"Give."

She walked to the middle of the three people and opened her palm. In her fair hand lay a handful of large, plump sunflower seeds, roasted until golden brown and glistening, still slightly warm as if they had just come out of the pan.

"Want some snacks?"

Gao Jianguo froze, a drop of snot hanging from the tip of his nose almost freezing: "Lin...Lin classmate? With things so urgent, you still have the mind to eat sunflower seeds?"

"Where did this fire come from? There's snow everywhere." Lin Jiaoyue cracked open a sunflower seed with practiced ease, spitting the shell lightly onto the snow. "I already told you it would work, but you guys have to make yourselves look like you're going to your execution. Want some? Walnut flavored, good for your brain."

"This..." Song Siming looked at Lin Jiaoyue.

The girl's face was only flushed from the cold wind, without a trace of anxiety. Her relaxed and carefree demeanor made it seem less like she was waiting for the results of an experiment that would determine the fate of the front lines and more like she was enjoying the snow in her own backyard while feeding pigeons.

This composure had a strange, infectious quality. The tension in Song Siming's heart, which had been taut and on the verge of snapping, inexplicably eased a little. He stiffly stretched out his frostbitten, red hands and grabbed a small handful: "Thank...thank you, Lin."

"Give me some too." Gao Jianguo couldn't resist either; the aroma of these sunflower seeds was too overpowering, it just kept going straight into his nose.

"Click, click, click."

On the deserted, quiet playground, the atmosphere suddenly shifted. The serious and tense atmosphere vanished, replaced by a strange and rhythmic sound of people cracking sunflower seeds.

Three burly men, their necks hunched, shivered as they cracked sunflower seeds, while a beautiful young woman stood calmly beside them, enjoying her meal immensely. The scene was utterly comical, yet it also exuded an inexplicable air of absolute confidence.

"Hey, Lin, where did you get these sunflower seeds? They smell so good, the more you chew, the better they taste." As Gao Jianguo chewed, his tightly furrowed brows relaxed, and even the minus twenty degree weather didn't seem so cold anymore.

"A family secret recipe, unique to this family, you can't buy it anywhere else." Lin Jiaoyue patted the sunflower seed crumbs off her hands and then looked at the old Shanghai brand watch on her wrist.

Her expression instantly changed from languid to serious.

"Alright, we've finished eating the sunflower seeds, and it's time."

"That's about it."

She walked over, picked up a dry twig, and poked the box of Soviet butter.

It was as hard as a rock. A twig poked it hard, leaving only a shallow white mark, even making a "thud" sound. In this state, forget about lubrication; it could jam the bolt, turning the cannon into scrap metal.

Then, she extended the branch toward the amber-colored "honey".

Everyone's breath caught in their throats at that moment.

The moment the twig touched the liquid surface, it encountered no hard resistance and slid in smoothly and without any obstruction. Although it became much more viscous than at room temperature, it was still fluid!

"My goodness..." Gao Jianguo's mouth gaped open, a puff of white smoke rising from it. "It really wasn't frozen! It's alive!"

Song Siming was so excited that his hands were trembling. He even wanted to reach out and dip his hand in the water to taste it, but Lin Jiaoyue slapped him away.

"It's poisonous. Ethylene glycol will damage your kidneys if you drink it. If you want to die, don't die here."

Lin Jiaoyue picked up the beaker and held it up to the pale winter sun. The amber liquid flowed slowly in the sunlight, exuding a cold, industrial beauty.

"The low-temperature fluidity is up to standard, and the freeze-thaw point is at least -45 degrees Celsius." She turned and walked back, her back looking particularly thin but determined. "Now it all depends on Liu Dachui's throttling orifice. As long as that old man's skills aren't rusty, this cannon can be put to use today."

……