Returning to 1949, I decided to hand it over to the state.

Furthermore, this thing has another great advantage.

The technical barrier isn't outrageous.

From the perspectives of tank manufacturing, basic structural design, welding and forming, and pressure resistance, it is far more suitable for Ansteel to enter the market than some high-precision mechanical parts.

With proper design and controllable manufacturing processes, it is not impossible to create a new product line.

Once this line is successfully established, its significance will be immense.

In the short term, it can serve urban life and the subsequent development of the gas system.

Looking at the bigger picture, this standardized steel container itself has a very strong ability to be promoted.

From one city to several cities.

From Northeast China to the whole country.

In the future, every household will have a gas cylinder labeled "Made by Ansteel" placed in a corner of their kitchen...

Just thinking about that scene sends chills down your spine.

Jiang Fan could even almost picture what would happen next in his mind.

Once the product is manufactured, it is deployed in cities and gradually spread to other regions. After reaching a certain scale, there will not only be stable demand, but also a whole extended chain including continuous replacement, maintenance, and supporting transportation.

This is no ordinary product.

This is clearly an industrial branch that could potentially generate cash flow.

He even thought of a news story about someone using a gas cylinder as a missile to bomb the enemy.

In his excitement, a somewhat outrageous idea even popped into his head.

In the future, history books will probably just say, "In such-and-such year, Jiang Fan proposed the early concept of steel civilian gas containers, which promoted the adjustment of Ansteel's product structure..."

Wouldn't that allow me to make a name for myself in history?

Thinking of this, Jiang Fan's eyes lit up, and his fingers kept clenching and unclenching, making him restless.

However, despite his excitement, he managed to suppress the impulse.

Don't rush.

We can't just open our mouths and say it right now, at least not yet.

Firstly, gas cylinders involve a whole set of issues, including gas source, storage and transportation, safety, valves, pressure resistance, and sealing. It's not something you can just decide on based on a concept alone.

Secondly, he needs to go back and research the relevant technologies, make sure he understands their suitability for the times and their practical feasibility before he can talk about them.

Otherwise, speaking rashly may make you appear like a whimsical layman.

Thinking of this, Jiang Fan suppressed the increasingly burning excitement in his heart, nodded, and said casually:

"It's alright, Uncle Meng. Things will work themselves out. We'll always find a way."

Upon hearing this, Meng Tai could only nod in agreement, his voice lowered.

"Yes, there's no point in rushing it."

He looked up at the courtyard, as if speaking to Jiang Fan, but also as if speaking to himself.

"Our Ansteel, after all, rose from the ruins. Every brick, every piece of machinery, every part was often painstakingly pieced together by hand. It doesn't matter if things are slow now, as long as we're heading in the right direction, we'll eventually find a way out."

Dusk had completely enveloped the eaves, and everything in the courtyard slowly melted into blurry shadows.

Meng Tai propped himself up on his knees, and his joints made a series of "crack" sounds.

It's getting late.

He patted his trouser leg and glanced at the west room.

"I'll make your bed. Get some rest; you have to get up early for work tomorrow."

Jiang Fan immediately stood up as well.

"I can do it, Uncle Meng. Where's the blanket?"

This time, Meng Tai didn't insist, but simply raised his hand and pointed towards the main house.

"There are several blue-faced quilts folded in the cabinet on the left side of the main room. Just go and get them yourself."

At this point, he added:

"Let me go inside and light a lamp for you. It's dark at night, so don't bump into anything."

Jiang Fan responded and looked towards the main room, but his mind was no longer simply seeking lodging when he first arrived.

The two entered the main house one after the other.

The room was dark and quiet. Meng Tai groped his way to the stove and lit a kerosene lamp.

The next moment, the halo slowly spread throughout the room.

The lights weren't bright, but they instantly gave the whole room a sense of liveliness.

Following the direction Meng Tai had pointed out, Jiang Fan walked to the wooden cabinet on the left side of the main room and reached out to open the cabinet door.

Sure enough, there were several quilts neatly folded inside, the one on top of which was covered with blue cloth.

The colors weren't particularly bright, but the house was very clean, and the edges were neatly folded, indicating that it was a household that was used to keeping things tidy.

Jiang Fan took out the quilt, and when he turned around, Meng Tai was already standing at the door waiting for him with a kerosene lamp in hand.

"Let's go, I'll take it to you."

"Okay, sure."

Jiang Fan responded and followed, carrying the blanket.

The two of them walked a few steps to the sleeping room on the west side.

Jiang Fan pushed open the door and entered. The room was small and simply furnished.

Against the wall was a heated kang bed, on which was covered a straw mat. The mat strips were worn smooth and shiny, and the edges showed signs of age and curling.

On the windowsill sat a white porcelain bowl with a half-burnt candle lying upside down at the bottom, and there were no other miscellaneous items around it.

The whole room was clean and tidy, so simple that it was almost empty, but it did not look shabby.

Meng Tai, holding the lamp, stood by the door and glanced into the room, his expression softening slightly.

"This is the room my daughter used to live in."

As he spoke, his tone slowed unconsciously, and his whole demeanor relaxed.

"She has now gone to work at the Shenyang Textile Factory, which is also a way of contributing to the country."

The last sentence was said very casually, but Jiang Fan could still hear the undisguised pride in it.

For them, it is an extremely honorable thing for their children to be able to work in factories, participate in production, and do things for the country.

People in this era often don't talk about "future prospects," but they value "usefulness" very much.

Whether it's studying, working in a factory, or leaving home, what people are often after is not personal fame, but a genuine feeling that as the country has just stood up, they should contribute their share.

Jiang Fan nodded in agreement, feeling somewhat moved.

Yes.

People in this era have very simple thoughts.

If the country needs you, go; if the factory is short of people, step up. If you can contribute, it's worth it.

Many people don't even think about what they can get in return.

Jiang Fan placed the quilt on the kang (a heated brick bed), spread it out, patted it down, and then pressed it down with his palm.

The kang (heated brick bed) was naturally not as soft as the Simmons mattress of later generations; it was very hard underneath, and you could feel the flatness and solidity of the kang surface even through the bedding.

But for him now, having a safe place to sleep is already quite good.

Meng Tai stepped forward and lit the half-burnt candle on the windowsill.

The flame flickered slightly, adding a softer layer of light to the room.