Courtyard House: I'm an engineer, and a fairy godmother transferred me to a different position.

Seeing the old professor's expression of delight and eagerness to rush out the door, Liu Guangqi couldn't help but smile.

He never expected that the scholar would remain so persistent after he had declined twice.

In the past, Liu Bei invited Zhuge Liang to visit his thatched cottage only three times.

And yet, he had already declined twice.

If they still don't respond, it would seem that they are even harder to persuade than the sages of the past.

From seven-axis machine tools to computer textbooks, and now to being sought after by the entire research institute—this feeling of being urgently needed is far more fulfilling than any material reward.

Lu Hai's hurried departure disappeared around the corner of the corridor.

Liu Guangqi stood there, a burning anticipation quietly rising in his heart.

Second-generation transistor computers...

If it could truly be born earlier through one's own hands, the resulting changes would be immeasurable.

The future unfolds before our eyes: nine-axis CNC machine tools are no longer out of reach; the development of small- and medium-scale integrated circuits; the strategic layout of the semiconductor industry; and breakthroughs in many other high-precision fields.

A more magnificent technological path is quietly extending beneath his feet.

***

Inside the Ministry of Foreign Affairs building, Zhao Mengyun finished work earlier than usual. She gently rubbed her slightly sore shoulders and neck, turned to her husband beside her, and looked puzzled.

"I heard from a colleague today that the ambassador from the Russian side is bringing up the issue of technical exchanges again and wants to arrange a visit to the industrial sector."

"This is not like their usual style."

In her memory, those overseas staff were always arrogant and condescending, often making even translators struggle with how to phrase things tactfully.

But in the last two years, the tide has suddenly turned.

First they purchased various foreign exchange electrical appliances, but now they've softened their stance considerably.

Upon hearing this, Liu Guangqi's lips curled into a faint smile.

There was no one else in the car, so he readily agreed:

"This isn't a technical exchange at all; they're eyeing our latest CNC machine tools."

"New machine tools?" Zhao Mengyun was taken aback. "How did they know?"

"The news must have leaked from university circles. The Russians got wind of it and have already inquired about prices with the Ministry of Foreign Trade. I estimate they'll also request a visit to the Ministry of Machine Building next."

"A leak?" Zhao Mengyun sat up straight immediately, her brows furrowing. "Isn't a seven-axis machine tool top secret? Isn't there a risk?"

Having worked at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs for many years, she is exceptionally sensitive to information leaks, and even without understanding the technical details, she is instinctively alert.

Liu Guang gently stroked the back of her hand, his voice steady:

"Don't worry, the department has already made arrangements. Even if it is sold in the future, only a simplified version will be provided."

Zhao Meng breathed a sigh of relief, but couldn't help asking again:

"Then why sell them at all? What if they secretly manufacture counterfeits..."

Upon hearing this, Liu Guangqi smiled gently.

Liu Guangqi was hunched over his desk organizing documents when familiar footsteps sounded outside the door. Director Lin pushed the door open and entered, the transfer order stamped with a bright red seal in his hand standing out prominently in the afternoon light.

"The ministry has already approved it." Director Lin gently placed the document on the corner of the table, his gaze falling on the young man's calm profile. "The proposal you put forward has been adopted entirely by the higher-ups."

Liu Guangqi stopped what he was doing, but did not immediately look at the transfer order. The sycamore branches outside the window were sprouting new buds, and the early spring wind still carried a chill, but he seemed to already hear the deep roar of machines in the distance.

"They really agreed to all the conditions?" He turned around, his tone as calm as if confirming something he had already expected.

Director Lin nodded, a complex emotion flickering in his eyes. "The Russians responded incredibly quickly, agreeing to return all the technical drawings for the large projects they withdrew from back then. However—" He paused, a meaningful smile playing on his lips, "they added a sentence at the end, emphasizing that these technologies are limited to civilian use only."

A moment of silence fell over the research room, followed by a low chuckle. There was no mockery in the laughter, only a worldly-wise understanding born of experience. Liu Guangqi reached for the transfer order, the edge of the paper brushing against his fingertips, leaving a subtle tactile sensation.

"Civilian use?" He repeated the word, as if savoring an interesting phrase. "Fine. Since they're willing to write it this way, we'll keep it."

As dusk settled outside the window, sparse rays of light pierced through the clouds. Liu Guangqi locked the organized documents in the drawer, the crisp sound of the metal latch clicking clear in the silence. He knew that every line on those blueprints, about to cross the border and travel a long way, embodied the sighs of years that had been forcibly interrupted. And now, they would return in another form, becoming the skeleton that would rebuild the backbone of industry.

Watching his methodical movements, Director Lin suddenly recalled a similarly chilly spring evening many years ago. Back then, the institute's lights burned all night, and people guarded the half-finished blueprints, like guarding an unhealable wound. Now, time has passed, and the younger generation can stand tall, reclaiming what rightfully belongs to this land in a way that forces others to compromise.

"They should be very willing," Liu Guangqi suddenly said, his voice devoid of emotion. "I don't mean agreeing to the conditions, but the process of having to agree."

He folded the transfer order in his hand, then folded it again, and finally tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket. The fabric concealed the sharp edges of the paper, leaving only a faint sense of its presence. He walked steadily toward the door, as if heading toward any ordinary workday, rather than stepping into a silent battle.

A few scattered footsteps echoed in the corridor outside the door, people from other departments leaving get off work. The sounds of conversation, doors closing, and keys clinking together formed a daily rhythm, and beneath this ordinary rhythm, a profound change was quietly taking place. Like the undercurrents of early spring beginning to surge beneath the frozen surface of a river.

Liu Guangqi stopped at the corner of the stairs and looked back at the familiar door to the research room. The glass window reflected the darkening sky and his own blurry silhouette. He suddenly smiled very softly, a smile that vanished in an instant, yet like the first ray of light before dawn, cutting through the long wait.

Then he turned and went downstairs, his footsteps echoing in the empty stairwell, one after another, steadily landing on the ground, landing on this spring that was slowly awakening.

Liu Guangqi took the document stamped with a bright red seal, his fingertips feeling the paper's unique crispness. A faint aroma of tea and the scent of old wood filled the office, and Director Lin's words still echoed in his ears.

"I'm leaving the Institute of Computing Technology to you," the other person said, their tone carrying an unquestionable trust. "The technical continuity of the seven-axis system cannot be interrupted, but right now, your focus should be on the second-generation machine."

He smiled.

I couldn't help but recall my temporary assignment to the steel rolling mill last year. Back then, there were layers of hurdles, from personal benefits to company cars, and then from company cars to raw material quotas, dragging on for almost half a month.

This time, from Professor Lu Hai contacting Director Lin to the completion of the procedures, it only took three days. The ministry didn't mention a single word about any benefits or conditions.

It's not that I don't want to mention it.

I simply couldn't bring myself to say it.

Everyone knows what the Chinese Academy of Sciences is like. They practically split every penny of funding in half and throw it all into experiments. The researchers wear faded uniforms, and they won't even replace their worn-out pens. Try talking to them about chauffeured cars or stipends? You probably won't even get through the gate.

To take a recent example, after the successful development of the mushroom egg project in the Northwest, Director Deng received a bonus of ten yuan. The entire team was divided into three tiers: ten yuan, five yuan, and three yuan.

this is the truth.

Of course, there's an even more crucial reason—Liu Guangqi now holds the title of "Academician." In a sense, he's connected to both sides. Among close friends, the topic of money becomes difficult to discuss.

Director Lin noticed the knowing smile on his lips and chuckled as well, pushing the secondment letter forward half a step. "Good that you understand," he said, his expression hardening as he placed a heavy hand on Liu Guangqi's shoulder. "Just tell us what the Institute of Computing is lacking. We'll reserve all the resources the ministry can mobilize for you. A chief engineer from the First Ministry of Machine Building should have that kind of confidence."

"Don't let trivial matters slow down the progress."

Liu Guangqi nodded.

He knew exactly what lay behind this smooth progress—the blueprints he had personally drawn, the machine tools he had debugged, and the problems he had solved over the years. His value no longer needed to be proven with words; everyone was waiting for him to deliver his next answer.

Director Lin gave a few more instructions on the routine handover details before being called away by a phone call. The office suddenly fell silent, with only the overlapping chirping of cicadas outside the window.

Liu Guangqi opened the document.

The terms were surprisingly concise, similar in form but different in essence to those at the steel mill. The essence remained the same: balancing both ends, but a single line was clearly written in black and white:

"In case of time conflicts, priority will be given to the research and development tasks of the Institute of Computing Technology."

His eyebrows twitched slightly.

This was tantamount to giving him a free pass, allowing him to devote all his energy to that still-developing machine.

The gaze continued downwards, settling on the last item:

"The secondment period is based on the completion of the project and is not subject to any rigid regulations."

There is no deadline.

Previously, temporary assignments were limited to a maximum of six months, after which the employee had to return. This time, however, the ministry proactively removed the time limit—they understood the significance of the second-generation computer better than anyone else.

The Volga sedan drove through the familiar streets and finally stopped outside the gray-white gates of the Institute of Computing Technology. Liu Guangqi got out of the car, and the late summer wind, carrying a sweltering heat, hit him in the face.

The guard at the post looked at him, his eyes lighting up as he recognized the regular.

But the procedure remains rigorous.

The young soldier took the documents and meticulously checked the name, number, and official seal on the committee member's certificate, secondment letter, and reporting notice. Every movement was precise, as if he held not pieces of paper, but a key that could not be lost.

After confirming that everything was correct, he stood at attention and saluted.

"Committee Member Liu, please come in."

Passing through the iron gate, the tree-lined path stretches out before you. The poplars on both sides stand straight like sentinels, their leaves revealing a silvery underside in the sunlight. On the wall at the end, the eight large characters "Rigorous and Pragmatic, Courageously Scaling New Heights" are slightly warm from the sun, like a silent vow, etched into the eyes of everyone who enters this place.

A surge of indescribable emotion welled up in Liu Guangqi's heart.

He used to enter this place bearing the mark of his former Ministry of Machine Building, but now he has become a member of the core R&D team at the Institute of Computing Technology. This change in identity has given him a completely new understanding of the eight characters before him—they are no longer just slogans hanging on the wall, but a responsibility that is about to become ingrained in his blood.

Just as he turned to walk towards the office gate, two people approached from the end of the corridor. Each of them was carrying a tall stack of blueprints, their steps hurried, their voices rapid and focused:

"...The power consumption of logic gate circuits can never be reduced; the limitations of existing transistors are too great."

"Unless a better material solution can be found, this bottleneck will be very difficult to overcome..."

Before they finished speaking, the two of them looked up at the same time, and their eyes froze the moment they met Liu Guangqi's gaze.

"Engineer Liu?"

It was Engineer Cheng who spoke up, and Engineer Fu next to him adjusted his glasses, looking quite surprised.

Fu took a half step forward, his tone uncertain: "The security department at the institute notified us this morning that a new member would be reporting for duty today, could it be...?"

Liu Guangqi smiled slightly and gently unfolded the secondment letter in his hand.

"it's me."

Those two short words caused the blueprints in Engineer Cheng's arms to scatter to the ground with a clatter. He didn't bother to pick them up, and rushed forward to grasp Liu Guangqi's hand:

"You mean—you've joined the second-generation fighter jet project team?"

"right."

Fu Gong almost jumped up: "That's wonderful! Professor Lu was just saying the other day how great it would be if you could come, and it actually happened!"

Engineer Cheng laughed heartily, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders:

"Now the project finally has a pillar!"

He casually grabbed Liu Guangqi's arm: "Come on, let's go get internal passes first, so we don't have to verify our identities every time we enter."

Fu Gong quickly squatted down and gathered the blueprints into his arms, the paper rustling as it rubbed together.

As the three walked down the corridor, Engineer Cheng turned his head and said:

"Liu, with your qualifications—a member of the Chinese Academy of Sciences and someone who has presided over the compilation of textbooks—it's really not right for you to just be an ordinary team member."