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

She raised her head and looked at the tall chimneys in the distance, but her tone was not downcast; instead, it carried a very real sense of hope.

"But things are better now. The fighting in Beiping is almost over, and the people have hope again."

"Once the whole country is stable, the factories will be repaired, the machines will start running again, and life will get better day by day."

Jiang Fan listened, and his heart suddenly skipped a beat.

If these words were heard by later generations, they might sound like an ordinary slogan.

But when it came out of the mouth of a young female cadre in 1949, it inexplicably made people feel a lump in their throat.

Because when she said these things, her tone was confident, as if she believed that they would definitely come true.

Standing in this era of devastation and rebuilding, I truly believe that the future will be better.

Jiang Fan paused for a moment, then suddenly felt a strong urge to know the answer to a question.

He looked at Song Ningyi and asked softly, "Comrade Song, what do you think our new China will be like in the future?"

Song Ningyi was taken aback for a moment.

Clearly, she hadn't expected Jiang Fan to suddenly ask such a question.

She lowered her head, pursed her lips, and then looked up at the sky, as if she was thinking very seriously.

A gentle evening breeze blew by, softly stirring a wisp of hair on her forehead.

After a few seconds, she slowly spoke.

"I can't really say it's anything big."

She smiled, a slightly embarrassed smile, but her expression was very serious.

"But I think, at least everyone should have food to eat."

Her gaze passed over the courtyard wall, looking straight ahead into the distance, as if she could already see the vast Northeast Plain further away.

"Look at our Northeast, the land is so vast, the soil is so fertile, whatever we plant will grow."

"We have wheat, we have corn, and we have rice."

"If one day we can grow enough food to fill our stomachs and no one has to go hungry, that would be wonderful."

"If things go further down the line, I hope that our Northeast rice can be transported all over the country, and ideally even all over the world."

"By then, when others mention China, they will not only know that we can fight and shout slogans, but also that the grains grown in our fields are good and that our people will never go hungry again."

As Jiang Fan listened, it felt as if something had suddenly struck his chest heavily.

Rice from Northeast China is shipped all over the world.

Everyone can have enough to eat...

These few words are so simple they could hardly be simpler.

But these simple words, when they reached his ears, felt as heavy as a thousand pounds.

Because he knew what China would become later.

He knew that the Northeast Plain would later become a vast granary.

I know about the later high-yield agriculture, the neatly stacked bags of rice, flour, and cooking oil on supermarket shelves, inter-provincial logistics, cold chain transportation, and global trade.

He also knew that many people later took having enough to eat for granted, and even began to worry about eating too much.

He also knew that later generations of Chinese could afford to wear clothes, live in houses, and study.

We know that high-speed rail traverses the land, bridges span rivers and seas, and ports connect mountains and rivers.

We know that factories do more than just produce smoke; they can also build ships, cars, chips, high-end equipment, and even send spacecraft into space.

The beginning of all this was in 1949, when a young woman sat on an old bench and said in the most sincere and solemn tone that her greatest wish was simply for all Chinese people to have enough to eat.

This stark contrast in time left Jiang Fan speechless for a moment.

Song Ningyi was still thinking about her own words.

As if a floodgate had been opened, her voice gradually became lighter and more cheerful.

"Also, I think there will definitely be more schools in the future, and children will be able to read. Factories will also get bigger and bigger, not just Ansteel, but many places across the country will have their own large factories."

"At that time, China will no longer have to look at other people's faces or rely on foreigners for everything."

At this point, she seemed to suddenly remember something and turned to look at Jiang Fan.

"By the way, Comrade Jiang, you've seen a lot abroad, do you think we can really catch up with them in the future?"

Jiang Fan fell silent.

Looking at that young and sincere face, he felt as if a thousand words were stuck in his throat.

Will I be able to make it?

It's more than just catching up.

But he couldn't explain it too clearly, and he couldn't just spill out all the things from later generations.

He took a deep breath and smiled slowly.

"Yes, definitely."

Upon hearing this, Song Ningyi suddenly smiled as well.

"If you say it's possible, then I'll believe you."

Jiang Fan opened his mouth, but didn't say anything more.

His thoughts had completely drifted away.

Scenes from later generations flashed through the depths of my mind.

The city skyline is lit up at night.

A high-speed train speeds by.

With a simple tap on your phone, you can buy things from all over the world.

Children go to school with their backpacks on, while the elderly carry groceries back to their warm and bright apartment buildings.

High-rise cranes stand tall along the coast and in the harbor, while rockets soar into the sky from the depths of the Gobi Desert.

These scenes had long been part of his daily life, so ordinary that they were hardly worth a second glance.

But now, as he sits in Anshan in 1949, in Meng Tai’s courtyard, and looks back at those “ordinary” things, he suddenly feels that everything that happened was breathtaking.

That didn't fall from the sky.

It was painstakingly carved out of the land, from the fire, and from the ruins by generations of people.

Thinking of this, Jiang Fan felt a surge of emotions that lingered for a long time.

After that, Song Ningyi asked one question after another, and the two chatted casually.

She then asked about foreign factories, whether the workers there worked as hard as the Chinese workers, whether the machines there were particularly advanced, and whether there were schools everywhere there.

Jiang Fan answered what he could, and tried to gloss over what he couldn't.

Occasionally, he would feel uneasy, afraid that he might let something slip and reveal some flaw.

However, Song Ningyi was clearly not interrogating her.

She was simply curious about what kind of world someone who had returned from outside had seen.

So her question wasn't pointed.

As they chatted, the atmosphere became increasingly relaxed.

The sky gradually darkened.

Suddenly, a few footsteps came from outside the courtyard.

The footsteps on the dirt road made a dull sound, gradually approaching from afar.

Jiang Fan was looking down at a piece of wood at his feet when his ears suddenly twitched.

The next moment, a voice carrying a hint of surprise came from the courtyard gate.

"Hey? Comrade Song, what are you doing here?"

Jiang Fan and Song Ningyi looked up at the same time.

Outside the gate, a stocky middle-aged man was standing, still wearing his work clothes, looking tired after work, and seemingly carrying something in his hand.

Jiang Fan's heart skipped a beat.

You know without even asking.

Meng Tai is back.