With three superpowers at his fingertips, he could dominate the 1970s.

The door to the reception room clicked open.

Jiang Zhiyu instinctively stood up.

Secretary Li helped an elderly man into the room.

The old man was wearing a faded Zhongshan suit, his hair was gray, and he was thin, but his back was still straight.

The old leader nodded to Song Bingzheng.

Song Bingzheng understood.

"You guys chat first, I'm going to find my old buddies to play chess."

The old leader waved his hand.

Song Bingzheng glanced at Jiang Zhiyu, then at his old leader, smiled, turned and left, gently closing the door behind him.

Only two people remained in the reception room.

The old leader's gaze fell on Jiang Zhiyu.

He looked her up and down.

Then--

"You?"

His tone was filled with an incredulous smile.

Jiang Zhiyu was a little nervous, unsure of what to do with her hands and feet, and stammered out:

"Greetings, sir."

The old leader didn't respond, but pointed to the sofa opposite him and sat down first.

Jiang Zhiyu then sat down.

The old leader placed the list on the coffee table and tapped it with his finger.

"Young comrade, explain this to me—"

He paused, as if organizing his thoughts:

"Where did you get all this stuff?"

Jiang Zhiyu opened her mouth, but before she could utter her prepared remarks, the old leader waved his hand and smiled:

"Forget it, you don't need to answer. If I were you, I wouldn't say anything either."

He picked up the enamel mug in front of him, took a sip of tea, and slowly put it down.

"I called you over here, not to interrogate you."

He paused, his gaze becoming extremely serious:

"There's something I need to ask you in person."

He tapped the list again with his hand.

"No more than six people have seen this list so far. Everyone who sees it immediately thinks – is this real? Does it really exist?"

He looked at Jiang Zhiyu, his gaze deep and intense.

"Xiao Jiang, I believe you. From the moment you presented those pieces of evidence, and when they laid the interrogation results on my desk, I knew—you little girl, you wouldn't joke about something like this."

His voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear:

"But you have to tell me, are any of these things unreliable? Could it be a trap set by someone to lure us in? In the past, our intelligence agents intercepted a set of false data, and our researchers were stuck in the same place for years, wasting resources and time."

"Do you know how severely our country has been infiltrated?"

Jiang Zhiyu immediately stood up straight.

"Sir, I won't say where these things came from, but I think you've probably guessed."

Her voice was steady, each word distinct:

"But I can guarantee with my entire family's lives—these things really exist, and they're in my hands right now."

"We can find a place in the next couple of days. You can check off some items on your list, and I'll ship them over. As for the process—you know what I mean."

The old leader looked at her for a few seconds without saying a word.

Then he laughed.

"You little brat—I believe you. I heard you tied up and beat up all the people who bullied your parents, and you even laid them out neatly."

Jiang Zhiyu blushed instantly upon hearing this.

The old leader's smile deepened, but there was no mockery in it; instead, there was a kind of indulgent affection, like that of an elder looking at a younger person.

"You know what? When I heard about that, my first reaction wasn't, 'This girl is really brave—'"

He paused for a moment:

"Instead, it's because of how badly this child's family was bullied that she resorted to such a move."

Jiang Zhiyu's eyes suddenly reddened.

Thinking of her parents' miserable state back then, the suffering they endured when they were sent to the countryside, and how thin and frail they looked when she first met them.

She felt that she hadn't beaten those people enough.

What she didn't expect was that after seeing the list, the first thing a former leader thought of was the bullying her family had suffered.

The room was quiet for a while.

The old leader spoke again solemnly:

"The second question."

"You know what that list means, and you know what you'll face if word gets out."

The old leader stared into Jiang Zhiyu's eyes:

"You're only eighteen, aren't you scared?"

Jiang Zhiyu did not answer immediately this time.

She thought for a moment and said:

"I'm not afraid."

"But I'm afraid of implicating the people I care about."

Her voice softened:

"What I'm afraid of is that I won't be able to deliver these things before I'm gone. Then all my trips will have been for nothing."

The old leader's gaze shifted.

It's very subtle.

He seemed to realize then that there were still many questions the child hadn't asked. But he couldn't ask them.

"good."

The old leader only said one word.

"So, the third question—you've brought back so much stuff, what do you want?"

Jiang Zhiyu was stunned.

She had never thought about this question.

The old leader looked at her expression and spoke in a very ordinary tone:

"Get promoted and make a fortune? Get a guaranteed admission to university? Get your family exonerated? Whatever your wish is, just say it."

Jiang Zhiyu thought for a moment and said:

"Sir, right now, I really don't want anything."

She answered almost instinctively.

Then she lowered her head, looking at the hand on her knee, and said softly:

"The purpose of doing all this is to prevent scientists from having to helplessly watch foreign achievements because of outdated equipment."

"I've heard that some people have never even seen what the kind of instrument they described in their thesis looks like in their entire lives."

The room remained quiet for a long time.

The old leader remained silent for a long time.

He picked up the enamel mug, took a sip of tea, and then put it down.

Then he stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to Jiang Zhiyu.

The sunlight outside the window was lovely, and the locust trees were in full bloom, with a few petals falling onto the windowsill.

"Little Jiang—"

His voice was low, carrying a heavy weight:

"It's not about money, it's not about people."

"It's time."

"Twenty years—stolen, delayed, and never to be recovered."

He turned around and looked at Jiang Zhiyu.

There were too many complex emotions in that gaze.

I feel grateful—this eighteen-year-old girl did something that so many people want to do but can't.

There was a heavy feeling—some of the things on that list should have been in their own countries twenty years earlier.

There is hope—at least for now, it's not too late.

There's another kind of heartache that only those who experienced those years can understand.

Jiang Zhiyu understood.

At this moment, Seventeen, in a rather jarring way, shouted in my mind:

"Host! Quickly shake hands with your old leader! It's an honor!"

Jiang Zhiyu ignored Seventeen.

The old leader walked over and patted her shoulder lightly twice.

"Since you don't want anything, then I'll owe you a favor on behalf of the country."

His tone was casual, as if he were simply saying the weather was nice today. But Jiang Zhiyu could sense the weight in his voice—it wasn't just polite talk.

"As for the items on your list, we need to hold a meeting. Once the meeting is decided, we need you to attend."

"Don't leave Beijing for now."

Jiang Zhiyu nodded:

"good."

As she was leaving, Jiang Zhiyu had already reached the door when she suddenly stopped.

She turned around.

"Sir, may I shake your hand?"

The old leader was taken aback.

Then he burst into laughter.

He stretched out a hand.

Jiang Zhiyu quickly reached out with both hands and firmly grasped that hand.

The hand was covered in calluses and wrinkles, with large knuckles and indelible ink stains between the fingers.

That was a hand that had written countless documents, signed countless orders, and shaken countless hands.

It is also a hand that has carried a gun, crossed a river, and crawled out of piles of dead bodies.

Jiang Zhiyu held it for a long time.

Seventeen screamed in the space:

"Ahhhh! Host! You've touched the chosen one of this era! You're so lucky!"

"I've been blessed! Such great fortune! Such a powerful aura!"

"Aaaaaahh ...

Jiang Zhiyu ignored Seventeen's wailing and simply held that hand tightly.

The old leader quietly let her hold his hand without pulling it away.

After a long while, Jiang Zhiyu finally released her hand and bowed respectfully.

"Thank you, sir."

The old leader looked at her, a smile in his eyes, and nodded.

"Go."

Jiang Zhiyu left the reception room and followed Secretary Li outside.

Even after walking quite a distance, Seventeen was still excitedly bouncing around in the virtual world:

"Host, can you feel it?! That aura! That luck! My God—"

"Okay, quiet down," Jiang Zhiyu thought to herself.

But the corners of her mouth were stretched almost to behind her ears.

Inside the reception room, the former leader was still standing by the window.

He watched Jiang Zhiyu's departing figure and shook his head with amusement.

He only noticed it when they shook hands—those hands were small and cool, and they used both hands to hold them, as if afraid they wouldn't be able to hold them.

She was only eighteen years old.

They beat people, kidnapped people, stole equipment, transported supplies, and exposed corrupt officials—they did everything more efficiently than veterans.

But you get so nervous just to shake hands.

The old leader picked up the enamel mug and took a sip of tea.

The tea has gone cold.

The old leader smiled with satisfaction.