In the 90s, you could acquire max-level skills every 14 days.

"Zhang Yong! Zhang Yong!"

Zhou Guoqiang, on the other hand, was quite at ease, greeting Zhang Yong with a broad smile and rubbing his hands together before reaching out to shake Zhang Yong's hand.

"Director Zhou?" To be honest, Zhang Yong really didn't want to see Zhou Guoqiang again.

As he looked at the smiling face before him, another image automatically popped into his mind.

A month before the college entrance examination, Zhou Guoqiang held the corner of the report card between his fingers and called out names one by one in the classroom.

"And you! Zhang Yong, with your score, taking the college entrance exam is a waste of your spot."

"You've dragged down the entire school's acceptance rate."

"Go back to sponging off your parents!"

The setting sun that day shone through the window and fell on Zhou Guoqiang's face.

The only difference was that the expressions on their two faces were completely different.

Zhang Yong looked away, his tone indifferent.

"Director Zhou, what is it?"

Zhou Guoqiang's hand hovered in mid-air for a moment, then he chuckled twice and withdrew it. He stepped aside, revealing two people behind him.

"Come, come, Zhang Yong, let me introduce you to two important figures!"

Zhou Guoqiang raised his voice, as if he were presenting an award at a sports meet.

"This is Professor Zhao Huaijin from the Chinese Department of Peking University! Associate Professor! Specializing in contemporary literary criticism!"

Zhao Huaijin was in his early forties, wearing a faded blue short-sleeved shirt, clutching an old leather notebook in his hand, and a fountain pen clipped to his chest.

His gaze swept across Zhang Yong's face for two seconds, a hint of surprise in his eyes.

"This is Professor Fang Qiming from the Department of Mechanical Engineering at Peking University! He's a lecturer!"

Fang Qiming was a few years younger than Zhao Huaijin, around thirty-five or thirty-six years old. He wore black-rimmed glasses, had dark skin, and calluses on his fingers—not from writing, but from working in the factory.

"Comrade Zhang Yong, I apologize for disturbing you."

Fang Qiming spoke first, very politely. "We read your article 'The Ingenuity of a Great Nation' published in October, and we would like to ask you some questions in person."

consult.

A lecturer from a university in Beijing asked an 18-year-old student who had failed his college entrance exam for advice.

Zhou Guoqiang nodded vigorously beside him, smiling broadly, his mouth almost reaching his back teeth.

"Yes, yes, yes! The two professors read your article and greatly admired it! They specifically sought me out and asked me to show them the way!"

I asked you to lead the way.

Zhang Yong glanced at Zhou Guoqiang.

Okay, lead the way. You're just a guide, aren't you?

"The reception room is too crowded. Come to my place and sit down." Zhang Yong turned and walked upstairs.

Zhou Guoqiang quickly followed, turning back to greet Zhao Huaijin and Fang Qiming as he walked, acting like a typical local tour guide.

"Teachers, please watch your step. The hallway lights aren't very bright. Please come this way—"

As soon as Zhang Defa entered the house, he saw Zhang Yong leading in three people.

"Dad, Mom, we have guests."

Zhang Yong gave a brief introduction, only mentioning the identities of Zhao Huaijin and Fang Qiming.

He paused for a second when introducing Zhou Guoqiang.

"This is Director Zhou from my middle school."

Li Guilan had never met someone so cultured before, and she hurriedly went to pour tea. There were only three enamel mugs, so she washed her own eating bowl and poured tea into it to use as the fourth.

"Sorry, we don't have enough cups at home."

Zhao Huaijin took the bowl and smiled.

"It's alright, ma'am, don't bother, we're just going to chat for a bit."

A few people sat down in the small living room, with the electric fan above their heads humming.

Zhao Huaijin didn't beat around the bush; he opened his notebook and got straight to the point.

"Zhang Yong, I read your article on the day it was published."

He turned to a page with a line of text written on it—

"Zhang Yong – 'The Ingenuity of Great Craftsmen' – A newcomer who deserves attention."

"I won't comment much on the writing skills, but since Editor-in-Chief Zhou dared to give it to the front page, it means the literary quality is sufficient."

Zhao Huaijin spoke slowly. "What I really want to understand is the technical part."

He stared into Zhang Yong's eyes.

"The vacuum degassing casting process for engine cylinder blocks and the electronic fuel direct injection system that you mentioned in your article are both still in the laboratory stage in China, and you can't find complete technical routes in publicly available information."

Where did you learn that?

The living room was quiet for a few seconds.

Zhou Guoqiang rubbed his hands together, wanting to say a few words to smooth things over for Zhang Yong.

Zhang Yong spoke up.

"Teacher Zhao."

"Um?"

"There are some questions I can answer, but there are others I don't want to talk about right now. How about this?"

He leaned forward and crossed his arms.

"I'll ask the questions, and you answer them."

Zhao Huaijin raised his hand to stop Zhou Guoqiang from getting up and nodded to let Zhang Yong continue.

What do you think China's manufacturing industry will look like in thirty years?

These words caused both Zhao Huaijin and Fang Qiming to pause in surprise.

Fang Qiming unconsciously tapped the enamel mug with his finger, producing a muffled sound.

Zhao Huaijin pondered for a moment before speaking first.

"I'm deeply involved in literature and don't understand practical engineering. I can only roughly guess that as mobile phones and large computers gradually become more widespread, the nuclear power and construction industries should benefit more people."

"Wait, are you trying to say that all those technical details you wrote down were just your own speculation?"

Zhang Yong leaned back in his chair, which creaked.

"It's not all speculation."

Zhang Yong glanced at the national map pasted on the wall beside him, his eyes focusing on the location of Pudong, Shanghai.

In 1990, Pudong was still farmland and mudflats.

"It's more like... an intuition."

"Intuition in the industrial field is faster than that in academic papers."

Fang Qiming sat up straight, his tone becoming somewhat anxious.

"Comrade Zhang Yong, I work in the mechanical field, so I tend to speak my mind."

He pushed up his glasses. "So, the fuel injection technology route you mentioned in your novel, from carburetor to single-point injection, then to multi-point electronic injection, and finally to direct injection—this route was discussed in our department last year when we did a joint project with FAW."

"How did you manage to write this route so clearly? Is this some kind of intuition from the industrial field?"

Zhang Yong did not give a direct answer.

He picked up his enamel mug and took a sip of tea. The tea leaves were his father's stock; they were broken pieces and tasted bitter.

"Professor Fang, let me ask you a question first."

"You teach mechanical principles at the university. After graduation, how many of your students are willing to work in state-owned enterprises doing independent research and development?"

Fang Qiming's expression turned bitter.

He opened his mouth, then gave a forced laugh.

"To be honest, not many. Most of them go to joint ventures as technicians, and many who join foreign companies go abroad and never come back."

"State-owned enterprises have limited funding for research and development, long development cycles, and slow results, so young people look down on them."

Zhang Yong nodded.

"That's why we continue to lag behind and develop slowly."

He put down the cup and leaned forward slightly.

"Professor Fang, the phenomenon you described will change completely in the next twenty years."

"It is right to import foreign equipment now, and it is also right to bring in foreign investment. Without importing, we cannot infiltrate the enemy's territory and have no reference point. But importing is not the ultimate goal; assimilation is."

"As far as I know, Japan did one thing throughout the 1970s—buy a piece of equipment, dismantle it, copy it, and modify it."

"In less than fifteen years, it transformed from a post-war ruin into the world's second-largest industrial nation."

"Our foundation is stronger than Japan's. Northeast China has a complete heavy industry base. Although the Third Front factories were located in remote mountain valleys, decades of accumulated technical experience are all in the minds of the master craftsmen."

"Chinese people understand each other best; we're all actually the same kind of people."

"Never admit defeat, never give up, never be discouraged, never back down."

Zhang Yong paused for a moment.

"As long as we first settle down, accumulate experience, and learn, and wait until the precision of domestic processing improves and materials science makes a breakthrough—"

He looked into Fang Qiming's eyes.

"Twenty years from now, foreigners will be lining up to buy our machine tools."