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

Meng Tai took two steps back, glanced at him, and nodded.

"Okay, that's about it. If you feel cold at night, there's a blanket in the closet. Just take it."

Jiang Fan sat down on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), looked up and smiled at him.

"Thank you so much, Uncle Meng. You've had a long day, you should get some rest."

Meng Tai grunted in response and was about to leave when he reached the door. Then, as if remembering something, he turned back and glanced at Jiang Fan.

"I'll be getting up at six tomorrow morning to go to work. If you're coming with me, I'll call you. If you're not, just come a little later. Do you know the way?"

Jiang Fan nodded immediately.

"Alright, I'll go with you, Uncle Meng."

Meng Tai glanced at him, but didn't say anything more. He just nodded, turned around, and left.

Soon, the footsteps faded into the distance.

Then came the soft sound of the door in the courtyard closing.

The room fell silent.

Jiang Fan stood alone by the kang (a heated brick bed), his gaze fixed on the candle on the windowsill.

The flames trembled gently in the breeze, rising and falling, casting flickering shadows on the wall.

He bent down, took off his shoes, and climbed onto the kang (a heated brick bed).

The kang (heated brick bed) surface was harder than I had imagined. Even after lying down with the bedding on it, I could still clearly feel the texture of the mat and the undulations of the reed weaving underneath, which was slightly uncomfortable against my back.

He turned over and buried his face in the pillow.

The pillow was mostly filled with buckwheat hulls, which carried a faint, simple grain smell that made him feel a little dazed.

He couldn't remember the last time he slept on a kang (a heated brick bed).

It was probably when I was a child, at my grandma's house in Northeast China.

Back then, in winter, the kang (a heated brick bed) in the house was heated, and the whole kang was warm. You would curl up in the quilt, with only half your face sticking out, and it was so comfortable that you were too lazy to even get up at night.

Outside the window, it was snowing heavily, but inside the house it was warm and cozy, the whole world separated by that heated kang (a traditional heated brick bed).

Later, I returned to the south, lived in an apartment building, slept on a mattress, and had air conditioning in the summer and heating in the winter.

Comfortable is naturally comfortable.

But I haven't thought about that feeling of sleeping close to the kang (a heated brick bed) for many years.

Jiang Fan lay there for a while, but couldn't fall asleep no matter what he did.

He first rolled over to the left, then to the right, and finally lay flat on his back, staring straight at the roof above him, which was flickering with candlelight.

After a while, he raised his left hand.

On my wrist, the watch face still clung tightly to my skin, the countdown timer floating in my field of vision.

【60:24:18】

There are still a little over two days left.

Jiang Fan stared at the number, unable to describe the feeling in his heart.

Everything that happened today happened so fast.

From the rented room to the Su family's house, then to helping repair the machines at Ansteel, and then being unexpectedly assigned to Meng Tai's house...

Any one of these things would be bizarre enough under normal circumstances.

But now, they have all happened to me in a single day.

Now I stand in the riverbed of history.

Those years that were once written in books have now become reality.

The era he had never experienced was gradually being pieced together before his eyes.

Moreover, after what Meng Tai said, I might actually be able to do something.

To bring a little help from the future to this era.

A product idea.

A technical direction.

A judgment that is more in line with market and realistic conditions.

Or perhaps, it's simply helping them avoid taking detours for months or even years.

For him, it may have been just a thought, a string of information that future generations could easily find, a mature case that has been proven by time.

But for Ansteel in 1949, that might have been another way out.

The more Jiang Fan thought about it, the more his breathing quickened.

What if I could really make Ansteel move faster?

What if Ansteel's product lines could get up and running earlier, allowing for faster capital recovery, earlier equipment restoration, and accelerated pace of technology upgrades and capacity expansion?

Will the fate of industry in Northeast China be different?

Thinking on a bigger scale, what if that gas cylinder idea that just popped into his head could actually be made into a reality?

Once a product is developed and sold, the profits can be reinvested in blast furnaces, machinery, processes, and production capacity.

By then, there will be more steel, more complete equipment, and the technology will mature more quickly.

Could those paths that would normally take more than a decade to traverse be completed in eight, five, or even less years?

Will the country's industrial progress be pushed forward as a result?

Will the soldiers on the front lines be able to access more supplies sooner?

Will the factories, railways, and mines in the rear be able to obtain the steel and equipment they need more quickly?

Will ordinary people finally see a brighter future?

Take another step forward...

Not far away is the year 1950.

That year will be familiar to any Chinese person in later generations.

If I had gotten more involved, would history have changed in some way?

These questions kept popping into his mind, and each one made his heart beat faster.

When Jiang Fan used to make popular science videos about industrial history, he liked to say one sentence at the end.

Everything we take for granted today was built step by step by our predecessors.

But now, what if we could push those "taken-for-granted" habits a little further forward?

Even if it's just a little bit.

When our predecessors took their first steps forward, did they face fewer difficulties and have more confidence?

Thinking of this, he felt a warmth in his chest, and even his eyes swelled slightly.

A gust of wind blew in from outside the window, making the paper on the window frame rustle.

The flame of the kerosene lamp suddenly tilted to one side, dimming the light in the room for a moment before it wobbled back to its steady state.

In that instant, Jiang Fan inexplicably felt a sense of absurdity yet reality.

This lamp, too, flickered gently for him, the man who had stormed into history.

He reached out and pulled the blanket tighter around himself, then slowly closed his eyes.

I can't think about it anymore.

I have to go to work tomorrow.

Once he got to the factory, he could ask more questions and subtly find out more about the situation.

We need to figure out at least whether Ansteel's current capabilities can support the idea of ​​a "gas cylinder".

He won't tell anyone about this idea for now.

Not at least not now.

He needs to figure it out himself first and try to come up with a truly workable plan.

He only had a little over two days left.

Two days or so, not a long time, but not a short time either.

If we hold on tight, we might actually be able to uncover something.

After all, he didn't know if he would ever have the chance to come back here again.

Thinking of this, Jiang Fan turned over again, facing the wall.

I'll probably never forget this place for the rest of my life.

No matter when he thinks about it in the future, he will never forget everything that happened tonight.

Another gust of wind blew past the window.

Gradually, his breathing became steady, and his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

On the first night of 1949, he finally drifted off to sleep.