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

The news that Jiang Zhiyu had vomited blood and been sent back to the barracks spread that very day.

The observers in the shadows sent a secret report overnight, using phrases like "the target is dying and struggling desperately."

When the message was received in Country M, it was already past midnight.

After reading the secret report, the general sneered and turned to the intelligence officer beside him, saying, "Order the young man to send two more ships of high-end equipment over. This is the final death knell for that gifted individual."

The intelligence officer hesitated for a moment: "Sir, I'm afraid things are a bit... on the other end of the line."

"They had no choice."

……

There's really nothing left to give as a gift these days.

Several core domestic military industrial companies have already been largely hollowed out; high-purity radioactive sources, nuclear fuel assemblies, precision detection instruments—almost everything of value they could offer has been thrown into the sea. To give any more away would be to throw away the very tools that sustain their livelihoods.

The heads of several families met privately, their resentment palpable.

"The Americans are using us as a warehouse!"

Why don't they throw it away themselves?

"You think they didn't throw things away? They were the ones who started throwing away those things, but they were just things they had already discarded. This time, we're throwing away real money!"

Despite their grievances, no one dared to openly say no due to pressure from the United States.

Finally, Xiao Rizi gritted his teeth and deliberately contaminated some of the equipment in his inventory with more nuclear radiation before shipping it out. The radiation concentration was almost twice as high as before, the point being to wear down that gifted individual.

This time, they've really gone all out.

……

When the last two ships of supplies were scattered at sea, Jiang Zhiyu was drinking porridge in the barracks.

When the news reached her ears, she put down her bowl and thought about it.

"That's the end."

Seventeen agreed: "If we push them any further, they probably won't have any more. They're probably already complaining a lot over their daily lives; squeezing them any further will only raise suspicion."

"Okay, let's close the net then."

This time, Jiang Zhiyu did not appear.

She had lab technicians in full radiation suits sail out to sea and haul back the floating steel boxes one by one. Instead of cleaning up the nuclear radiation under their "supervision," she announced that "Comrade Jiang is extremely weak and unable to go to the site in person."

The boxes that were towed back were transported into a closed temporary warehouse under everyone's watchful eyes. Guards were stationed at the entrance, and a sign reading "High-risk radiation area, entry strictly prohibited" was hung up.

All laboratory personnel and staff who had come into contact with these materials were given a comprehensive medical check-up.

After the cleanup was completed, everyone was required to sign a confidentiality agreement and keep their story consistent.

Then, the Second Administration Bureau issued a brief announcement to other research institutions.

"Comrade Jiang from the Second Administration Bureau, due to long-term overwork and severe physical exhaustion, is currently receiving secret treatment and has temporarily withdrawn from frontline work."

When the news reached Country M, the general breathed a long sigh of relief after reading it.

"It seems our intelligence was correct; that gifted individual is on the verge of death and won't reappear anytime soon."

The man in the gray suit next to him nodded: "China isn't all that great either. They still abandoned her for those pieces of equipment."

"Continue the blockade, continue the pressure." The general stood up, straightened his uniform, "But stop targeting individuals. Without that gifted individual, China can't cause any trouble."

……

Jiang Zhiyu entered the special care ward in full view of everyone.

What people outside saw was a scene of rescue workers going in and out, their faces grave, and medical equipment being wheeled in truck after truck. A nurse hurried down the corridor carrying blood-stained gauze, and someone whispered, "The situation isn't good."

Jiang Zhiyu lay on the hospital bed, covered with a blanket, her face pale—this time she didn't need to pretend; she was indeed weak from absorbing a large amount of nuclear radiation, but it wasn't as exaggerated as the rumors outside suggested.

After several days of "rescue," she was "secretly transferred" to a sanatorium.

The so-called sanatorium was actually a small, detached courtyard next to Zhuge Courtyard. A sign at the entrance read "Military Sanatorium Area, No Unauthorized Personnel Allowed," and there were two guards.

On her first day in the house, Su Wanqing brought over a bowl of chicken soup.

"You've lost weight," Su Wanqing said, her eyes a little red. "How did you get so thin?"

"Mom, I'm just tired. I'll be fine after a few days of rest."

"Why are you being so stubborn?" Su Wanqing placed the chicken soup on the bedside table and tucked the blanket around her. "Your dad says you've always been like this, taking on everything yourself."

"That's because I'm capable."

Su Wanqing sighed, said nothing more, and turned to go to the kitchen to heat up some porridge for her.

"Host," Seventeen said in his mind, "now you're finally behind the scenes. I wonder how long these people will stay quiet."

"It's alright. I've stepped back from the limelight, and the domestic equipment is sufficient for a while. Besides, we need time."

"When?"

"There's plenty of time." Jiang Zhiyu closed her eyes. "The lab work needs time to be done, the aircraft carrier reverse engineering needs time to progress, and the talent cultivation after the resumption of the college entrance examination also needs time. As for the remaining bronzes, there's no rush; we'll collect them one by one."

She rolled over and faced the wall.

"Most importantly," she said softly, "I need some time to rest."

Seventeen remained silent for a few seconds.

"Host, how long has it been since you had a proper night's sleep?"

Jiang Zhiyu did not answer.

But she fell asleep quickly.

Outside the window, the leaves of the grape trellis rustled. Sunlight streamed through the windowpane, casting dappled patterns of light on the floor.

Song Yanzhou stood at the entrance of the courtyard, holding a thermos in his hand, staring at the tightly closed door for a long time.

Ma Fangli caught up from behind: "Comrade Song, why aren't you going in?"

"She's asleep," Song Yanzhou said softly. "Don't disturb her."

He handed the thermos to Ma Fangli.

"This is pork rib soup. Heat it up for her when she wakes up."

Then he turned and left.

After walking a few steps, he turned back and glanced at the window again.

Behind the window paper, a figure could be vaguely seen curled up in the quilt, fast asleep.

Song Yanzhou's lips curved slightly, then he frowned.

She's lost weight again.