Courtyard House: I Rely on Time-Space Trade to Build a Nation

In May, the air in Beiping already carried the scent of summer.

When Zhao Pingan entered the conference room, it was already full of people.

Besides a few familiar leaders, there were also several commanders from the East China Field Army—all old acquaintances who had fought side by side with him during the battles of Jinan and Huaihai last year.

"Comrade Ping An, please sit down." Engineer Zhou gestured to the empty seat. "Today's meeting is mainly to hear what you have to say."

Zhao Ping'an sat down, placing his briefcase beside his lap.

He could roughly guess the content of the meeting—in the past four months, his elder brother Zhao Dongliang and Zhou Liang had led those two armored brigades to great success in the East China Field Army, sending battle reports to the Central Military Commission one after another.

Sure enough, after the meeting began, a leader from the East China Field Army spoke first:

"The heavy-armored brigade commanded by Comrade Zhao Dongliang played a key role in several battles."

They broke through three lines of defense of the Kuomintang army in three days, with fewer than two hundred casualties on their own.

Comrade Zhou Liang's motorized infantry brigade advanced 150 kilometers in a single day during the pursuit, cutting off the retreat of three enemy divisions.

The data was presented one by one: number of enemy soldiers killed, speed of advance, casualty ratio... Each set of figures pointed to the same thing:

Armored forces are the decisive force on the battlefield in this era.

"The problem now is," another leader chimed in.

"We only have two brigades of this type. But future defense needs may require more than twenty brigades."

Everyone looked at Zhao Ping'an.

"Comrade Ping An," Engineer Zhou began, "you built this unit from scratch. From equipment to training, from tactics to organization, you know it best."

The Central Military Commission is considering establishing a specialized academy to systematically train armored forces commanders and technical personnel. What are your thoughts on this?

Zhao Ping'an didn't hesitate: "I've already established two training courses in Shijiazhuang—a car driver training course and a tank crew training course. There are now more than 800 students and more than 50 instructors. The teaching materials, teaching aids, and training grounds are all readily available. Why not use this as a foundation to expand it into the Armored Forces Academy of the Chinese People's Liberation Army?"

He opened his briefcase and took out several documents:

"This is the curriculum, training outline, and assessment standards for the training course. If an academy is established, advanced courses such as campaign and tactical command, joint operations, and logistical support can be added on top of this."

The document circulated among the leaders. Some nodded, some asked questions.

How long is the training cycle?

"Junior technical soldier, one month. Tank commander, gunner, three months. Commander, one year."

What skill level can graduates achieve?

"Higher than the average level of our two brigades."

The discussion lasted for half an hour. In principle, everyone agreed to establish the institute.

However, one question was raised by a senior officer in charge of logistics:

"Training requires fuel, and combat requires even more fuel. Currently, our fuel supply mainly comes from captured supplies, with a small portion coming from Comrade Ping An's special channels."

If the scale expands tenfold or twentyfold, where will the fuel come from? How will the supply be guaranteed? How will safety be ensured?

The meeting room fell silent.

Zhao Ping'an's heart tightened suddenly—he had actually forgotten something so important.

After the meeting, Zhao Ping'an did not leave immediately. He waited in the corridor until Engineer Zhou came out.

"Zhou, I have an idea about the fuel issue," Zhao Ping'an said in a low voice as he followed.

Engineer Zhou stopped in his tracks: "Speak."

"Our country has oil, we just haven't found it yet," Zhao Ping'an said. "I know the locations of several potential large oil fields. If we can find and extract them, the oil problem can be completely solved."

Engineer Zhou looked at him sharply: "Are you sure?"

"I'm about 80% sure," Zhao Ping'an said. "I need to take an exploration team to conduct on-site investigations."

"where?"

"The Songnen Plain, its exact location... doesn't have a name yet. It's roughly 150 kilometers northwest of Harbin."

Engineer Zhou remained silent for a few seconds. The corridor was quiet, with only the sound of footsteps coming from afar.

"What kind of support do you need?" Engineer Zhou asked.

"A highly skilled exploration team, preferably composed of geology professionals. I can provide some basic equipment, such as drilling rigs and surveying instruments. We also need local cooperation."

"Here you go," Engineer Zhou said decisively. "I'll transfer personnel from the geology departments of Tsinghua and Peking Universities. As for the equipment... you make a list. We'll notify our comrades there immediately."

He paused. "How long will it take?"

"If the location is correct, we should have preliminary results within a month."

"Okay." Engineer Zhou nodded. "For the college matter, write a detailed plan first. As for the fuel issue, get it done quickly. Both things need to be done fast."

Five days later, a special team assembled in Harbin.

The group consisted of twelve people, eight of whom were university professors and students—led by Yuan Fuli, the head of the Department of Geology at Tsinghua University, along with two lecturers from the Department of Geology at Peking University. The other four were engineering soldiers selected by Zhao Ping'an from the military; they were mechanically skilled and hardworking.

The equipment filled three trucks: a hand-cranked drill, core sampling tubes, a gravimeter, a magnetometer, and several "advanced" pieces of equipment that Zhao Ping'an had redeemed from the system—a portable ground-penetrating radar and a soil gas analyzer. The equipment was packed in wooden crates labeled "Precision Instruments, Handle with Care."

Upon seeing the letter of introduction, the local officials in Harbin dared not neglect it and immediately dispatched guides and security personnel.

"Commander Zhao, the place you mentioned..." The guide, a local expert in his fifties with a weathered face, said, "Our place is called Sartu, which means 'the place where the moon rises' in Mongolian. It's very desolate, mostly meadows and swamps, and the mosquitoes are so fierce in the summer they could eat you alive."

"Let's go to Sartu," Zhao Ping'an said.

The convoy headed north. Leaving Harbin city, the roads deteriorated rapidly. What were supposed to be highways were nothing more than two tire tracks. The trucks bounced violently, and the professors, though pale-faced, didn't complain.

Zhao Ping'an sat in the passenger seat of the lead car, holding a hand-drawn map in his hand—a map he had drawn from memory, marked with latitude and longitude coordinates. Daqing Oilfield, Asia's largest continental oilfield, with geological reserves of billions of tons. But in 1949, it was just an unnamed wasteland.

Historically, the Daqing Oilfield wasn't discovered until 1959. Now, he wants to bring that date forward by ten years.