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

The New Year's Day holiday had just passed, and the city of Beiping was still immersed in the afterglow of the festival.

Zhao Ping'an was unusually late, arriving at the office close to 10 o'clock.

The night before, Zhao Ping'an reported his work and plans to the leaders.

Because it involves a series of "major moves" such as retaining the Marine Corps and strengthening the airborne forces,

Therefore, the discussion with the leaders continued until the early hours of the morning.

Ultimately, the top leader overruled objections and approved Zhao Ping'an's plan.

It was already dawn when Zhao Ping'an returned to his residence. After resting for a few hours, he finally went to his office.

Before I could even sit down, the door was pushed open.

Not many people can get in like this.

Mr. Qian, carrying a stack of papers, entered the room and placed them on the table: "Comrade Ping An, please resolve this matter for me first."

Zhao Pingan glanced at the stack of papers and smiled:

"Mr. Qian, you came here on your first day back to work after the New Year holiday. Aren't you afraid people will say you're abusing your power for personal gain?"

"What personal gain are you plotting?" Old Qian pulled out a chair and sat down, pushing the papers in his hand forward.

"We can't manufacture these components for the Dongfeng-2's control system right now. Do you have any?"

Zhao Pingan picked up the form and scanned it from top to bottom.

There are seven models in total, with specifications, quantity, and required precision indicated on the back.

He looked up at Mr. Qian: "Just these few?"

"That's all." Old Qian leaned back. "We still have the others you gave us before, but we use them up quickly, and now we're out of stock and stuck."

The engine has undergone three rounds of testing, and the ground testing of the control system is 80% complete—we're just waiting for these few components to be installed before we can launch the entire missile.

Zhao Pingan put down the order form and got up to walk to the next room.

"Okay, Mr. Qian, please have a seat. I'll go look for it."

Next door was an ordinary door with a sign that read "Information Room" hanging outside.

Ten minutes later, Zhao Ping'an came out carrying a small box and placed it in front of Old Qian.

Mr. Qian opened the box, and his eyes lit up.

He picked up one component and looked at it against the light outside the window, then picked up another and examined it closely, turning it over and over.

"This is enough for six months. I'll come back for more when it runs out." He closed the box and looked at Zhao Ping'an. "Comrade Ping'an, your storeroom is truly a treasure trove."

Zhao Pingan poured himself and Qian Lao a cup of tea each. "Come back for more when you're done, don't be shy. Qian Lao, that's a national treasure. The sooner it's successful, the more confident we'll be."

Mr. Qian nodded, not in a hurry to leave.

He put the box down at his feet, leaned back, and picked up a teacup.

Seeing his posture, Zhao Ping'an knew he had more to say: "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing." Old Qian took a sip of tea. "I just wanted to let you know that after the successful detonation of the hydrogen bomb last year, it should be able to be airdropped around June this year."

Zhao Ping'an paused for a moment, his hand holding the teacup still.

He looked at Mr. Qian: "So fast?"

"The information is complete, and the materials are up-to-date." Old Qian turned to look at him, a hint of a smile in his eyes. "Don't you know the quality of the information you provided?"

Zhao Pingan put down his teacup and smiled:

"That's because you, Mr. Qian, are capable; it has little to do with what I give you."

"I'm just a gofer. Once the goods are in your hands, how you handle them is up to you."

"A deliveryman?" Old Qian repeated the word, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Alright, errand boy. Hey errand boy, we have the components for the Dongfeng-2, and it should be finalized by June. We'll try to give you a demonstration this year, um, how do you say it in Northeastern dialect? 'A big bang'..."

Zhao Ping'an smiled and nodded. "Haha, that's good. The meeting will start soon, let's go."

The two stood up.

Old Qian picked up the box, walked to the door, and then stopped. "By the way, regarding Beidou, you gave us two sets. The second set has already been disassembled and reverse engineered."

Zhao Ping'an paused for a moment: "I was just about to ask you. Any news?"

Old Qian's smile faded slightly: "A telegram came a couple of days ago; there were some problems with dismantling it."

"What's the problem?"

"It's still about chips, just like the Dongfeng chips," Qian Xuesen said succinctly. "The precision is more than a generation behind. Forget about imitation, many people have never even seen one."

Zhao Ping'an remained silent for a few seconds.

Footsteps came from the end of the corridor; someone was walking this way.

"I understand," he said. "Let's have a meeting first, and we'll discuss it in detail afterwards."

In the conference room, all the department heads had arrived.

A dark green tablecloth was laid on the long table, and a document was placed in front of each person.

The heating was on full blast, and some people had taken off their coats and draped them over the backs of their chairs.

Zhao Ping'an walked to the head seat and sat down, looking around.

Mr. Qian sat to his right.

Today's guests are all heads of various research institutes related to Northwest China, and they are all highly classified individuals.

"Let's begin," Zhao Ping'an said.

This was the first annual coordination planning meeting in 1956.

The whole place fell silent.

Zhao Ping'an didn't open the document in front of him, but went straight to the point, "This year's tasks: three."

Everyone was looking at him.

"First, the satellite." Zhao Ping'an's voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear.

"Eight to ten satellites will be launched throughout the year. Four will be for communications, four for military use, and two for civilian use."

Someone was quickly taking notes in a notebook.

"Second, missiles." He looked at Qian Lao, "The Dongfeng-2A will be finalized this year. We will strive to complete the integration of the two missiles before the end of the year."

Mr. Qian nodded slightly.

"Third, chips." Zhao Ping'an paused, "This year we need to achieve a breakthrough in the semiconductor industry and chip manufacturing, going from nothing to something."

In the conference room, some people looked up, and some looked at each other.

This is the first time many people have heard of chips being placed in such a high position.

Many people were even hearing this word for the first time.

Zhao Ping'an didn't explain, but looked at Elder Qian: "Elder Qian, which departments do you need to assist with the satellite project?"

Mr. Qian cleared his throat and opened the folder in front of him.

"The satellite launch plan is as follows..."

The meeting lasted an hour and a half.

The tasks were broken down, responsibilities were assigned to specific individuals, and timelines were set one by one.

It was almost midnight when the meeting ended.

The group walked out one after another, some discussing as they went, others looking down at their notes.

Zhao Ping'an called out to Old Qian, "Old Qian, wait a moment."

After everyone else left, only the two of them remained in the meeting room.

Zhao Pingan walked to the window and pushed it open.

Mr. Qian looked at him and said, "Comrade Ping An, this chip issue cannot be resolved in one or two years."

Zhao Ping'an didn't respond to that question, but instead asked, "I heard you have two students working in the semiconductor industry, is that right?"

"Indeed they exist," said Mr. Qian. "One is named Huang, and the other is named Lin."

They're all at the Institute of Physics, Chinese Academy of Sciences, working in the semiconductor research lab—though it's called a research lab,

It's really just a few people, a few rooms, and not much equipment.

Zhao Ping'an nodded: "I'll take the person. I'll sign the transfer order later."

Old Qian paused for a moment, then smiled: "Alright. Have them come find you later."

"Comrade Ping An," Qian Lao began, "another year has passed..."

Zhao Pingan turned to look at him.

"The atomic bomb was successfully completed in 1953, the missile was completed in 1954, and the satellite was launched in 1955."

Now the hydrogen bomb is almost complete. These things, in the past, I thought would have taken ten or even twenty years, but it's only taken less than six years. Remember what we said?

He paused. "We must catch up with and surpass the world's advanced levels, and we're almost there..."

"Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, lie there and wonder, 'Is this a dream?'"

After a while, Mr. Qian continued speaking with a smile.

"Later I realized that even if it's a dream, I have to see it through to the end."

Zhao Pingan smiled too.

"Let's go." He patted Mr. Qian on the shoulder. "I'll treat you to a good meal today."

I have other things to do this afternoon. The semiconductor issue is urgent.

Zhao Ping'an hadn't initially considered advancing semiconductors, but firstly, most senior researchers were still working on the atomic and hydrogen bombs and satellites; secondly, university graduates were extremely scarce at the time.

Now, with the implementation of a series of measures such as night schools, workers' universities, overseas assignments for official business, expansion of university enrollment, and the construction of new universities, more than 130 million college students graduate each year, of which 100 million are majoring in science and engineering.

We now have a basic number of researchers, and it's time to start spreading the seeds. We should fill in all the major, minor, and sub-categories of industry that we defined a few years ago.

At 2 p.m., a detailed report from the Northwest Research Institute was delivered to Zhao Ping'an's desk.

It's more specific than what Qian Lao said.

It has a total of seventeen pages. The first part is the disassembly report, the second part is the technical analysis, and the last part is a handwritten letter.

Several of the satellites in Zhao Ping'an's planned launch were satellites he had acquired through personal exchange, including several BeiDou navigation satellites. Zhao Ping'an acquired two systems in total: one for use and launch, and another to establish the GPS system.

The second set was handed over to the Northwest Research Institute for disassembly and research.

The second BeiDou system has now been dismantled.

All the parts were categorized, the blueprints were drawn one by one, and the materials were tested one by one.

The People's Republic can now make over 90% of the things, and some are even better than the originals.

Only in the section for chips did a few words appear:

"The craftsmanship is extremely precise, a field that is not found in China."

The following is the letter, handwritten by the director:

Minister Zhao's insightful observation:

The disassembly of the BeiDou system has been completed. We have meticulously documented, drawn up, and analyzed the components of every piece of equipment, material, and blueprint. The only hurdle we face is the chip, which our current technology cannot overcome.

The accuracy is a generation behind. Not just slightly, but a whole generation behind.

The young people under his command are all working hard, putting in overtime every day until their eyes are bloodshot.

But some things can't be solved by working overtime.

We need someone to guide us, someone to tell us how to overcome this hurdle.

The equipment, materials, and blueprints are all there. All that's missing is manpower.

The letter was very short; the last sentence was:

"Looking forward to your reply."

Zhao Ping'an folded the letter neatly and put it back in the envelope. His gaze drifted to the void, his thoughts searching through the system's shop.

"Let's start today."