Reborn in 2011, I am the chief designer of aerospace.

Song Xingye stood outside the rusty iron gate, hands in his pockets, kicking the pebbles at his feet listlessly.

Above the iron gate, several large characters hung high—

Hongxing Aerospace Equipment Manufacturing Plant!

Looking through the fence, the park appeared desolate.

The green belt was littered with garbage, as if it hadn't been cleaned up for years.

The once smooth cement road surface has cracked, peeled, and become bumpy and uneven.

Not long after, a slightly chubby figure wearing faded blue overalls came running up, panting.

It was Factory Director Cheng.

Factory Director Cheng, having caught his breath, laboriously pushed open the door and warmly grasped Song Xingye's hands:

"Comrade Xiao Song, right? Welcome, welcome! I've heard that a genius has come to our Eighth Academy, but I never expected to meet him in person, haha!"

Song Xingye was somewhat flattered and quickly said, "Director Cheng, you're too kind. I'm just running errands to pick up documents; there's no need for you to come out and meet me personally. Just send any clerk."

Factory Director Cheng, however, didn't seem to care at all. He pulled him towards the office building, saying, "Hey, let's not talk about that. Let's go to my office and have a cup of tea. I happen to have a few documents that I need your signature on. You've come at the perfect time!"

The two walked on the dilapidated roads of Factory 307.

As Cheng Long walked, he talked incessantly about the glorious history of the Red Star Factory.

But he didn't know that the young people around him knew these old, trivial stories of glory much better than he did.

Song Xingye's gaze swept over the familiar buildings around him, his heart filled with mixed emotions.

The famous Factory 307 was formerly the renowned 307 Missile Base.

In the wave of military-to-civilian conversion in the 90s, in order to "survive and enter the market", they were forced to take out their trump card medium- and long-range solid ballistic missile technology and begin to transform into the manufacture of commercial solid rockets.

In the early 21st century, after a major overhaul, Factory 307 developed the "Kaituozhe-1" rocket based on the DF-21 technology and persuaded a number of microsatellite customers to launch it.

But fate played a cruel trick on us!

Its maiden flight in 2002 was a complete failure, and although it was successful again in 2003, the satellite failed to enter orbit once more.

Two failures and insurance claims depleted the factory's remaining funds and exhausted the patience of the group's leadership.

The clients who had agreed to the terms all ran away overnight.

From then on, Factory 307 entered a "zombie" phase, with the Trailblazer rocket project team either disbanded or returned to their original units.

The factory was in a state of panic. Many highly skilled technical personnel had nothing to do, so they either jumped ship to private companies or used their connections to transfer away, leaving only a group of old, weak, sick and disabled people to guard the empty shell.

To ensure that hundreds of workers had food to eat, successive factory directors racked their brains:

He sold Aerospace-branded mineral water, ran a printing factory, dealt in medical equipment, and even had a joint venture with Renault in Europe to produce bread trucks...

I'll do anything as long as I can get money, as long as I can stay alive!

Unfortunately, none of them were profitable.

The factory can only make a living by doing some sounding rocket or target missile business, and sometimes even the water and electricity bills have to be paid in advance by the superior unit, East China Institute.

Given its current state, Factory 307 should have shut down long ago.

But the reason it is still alive is because it is one of the very few commercial entities in the country that has a business license for "space launch permits".

Within the system, applying for this thing is harder than climbing to heaven.

Therefore, the Eighth Academy would rather spend money every year to support the factory than cancel or transfer it, hoping that it might come back to life someday.

In his previous life, when this mess was handed over to Song Xingye, it was already at its last gasp, and all the workers were receiving welfare.

In addition, he was a naive young man who only knew technology but not business, and he was even more ignorant of the complex interpersonal relationships, which inadvertently accelerated the factory's closure.

In addition, the State-owned Assets Supervision and Administration Commission (SASAC) was also requiring Dongyu Group to "reduce its burden" and clean up inefficient and ineffective assets.

Under pressure, East China Institute had no choice but to cut away the rotten parts, reassigning personnel from Factory 307, auctioning off assets, and deregistering the company.

Through complex capital operations, the First Affiliated Hospital took over this shell company, thus shedding this historical burden.

Ironically, the First Academy, which took over the project, used this shell company to develop the famous "Jielong" carrier rocket a few years later, which dominated the commercial space market and rivaled the Kuaizhou rocket of the Dongyu Group.

It can be said that Factory 307 at that time was just one step away from a phoenix-like rebirth!

Or perhaps the factory director at the time lacked a sense of the big picture and a global perspective.

They were unaware that the global demand for deploying commercial satellites was subtly increasing.

For various reasons, the First Academy snatched up the resources, ultimately benefiting the Jielong Rockets.

"well……"

Looking around the old factory, Song Xingye couldn't help but sigh, "Even heroes grow old."

Seeing the young man beside him staring blankly at the dilapidated workshop, Cheng Long, who was bragging enthusiastically, felt a little embarrassed and said awkwardly, "The factory is a bit shabby now. The workers don't even have the enthusiasm to clean it anymore, haha."

Song Xingye shook his head and said, "Director Cheng, forgive my bluntness, but do you think... this factory can still be revived?"

Cheng Long said with shame, "I'm willing but unable. To be honest, since taking office, I've tried everything I can, I'm practically selling myself. But the hole is too big to fill..."

But I dared not give up. If I collapsed, hundreds of workers in the factory would lose their jobs. It was too difficult!

"Are the joint venture cars still being produced at the factory?"

Song Xingye asked a question, then explained, "I heard from others that your factory has worked with Renault on a van."

"Ha, they parted ways a long time ago!"

Cheng Long waved his hand dismissively, looking utterly dejected. "We've only sold a little over 1000 vehicles in total, not even covering the costs. That precision machine tool in the factory that processes wheel axles was smuggled in from Berlin; now it's only good for scrap metal."

"It's a shame to dismantle precision machine tools; they could be used to make oil drill bits or something. The international crude oil market is doing very well this year; while others are reaping the rewards, you should be able to get some scraps."

Song Xingye sincerely offered a suggestion.

Although many memories of my past life are hazy, the "Arab Spring" of this year remains vivid in my mind, with global oil prices breaking new historical highs.

Giant oil fields and world-class natural gas fields have been discovered in Norway, the Arctic, Mozambique, and Guyana, leading to a shortage of high-end oil drilling equipment.

Cheng Long clearly didn't take the young PhD's words seriously, simply nodding perfunctorily: "Okay, I'll discuss it with the team members later and come up with a plan!"

As they spoke, the two arrived at the office building.

Pushing open the door to the factory director's office, a musty smell hit you.

The room was a mess, like a storage room, with dusty computer cases piled up in the corners.

Cheng Long skillfully moved two cardboard boxes to the ground, pointing to them sheepishly, "A couple of years ago, we jumped on the bandwagon and started building commercial PCs, but we couldn't compete with Lenovo and Dell. This whole pile of inventory is now stuck with us. Sit wherever you like; if you break anything, it's on me!"

Song Xingye didn't mind at all, and plopped down on the computer case, casually patting off the dust.

Factory Director Cheng then poured himself a cup of tea from the thermos and pushed the white porcelain teacup over, saying, "Here, have some tea. I'm going to get some documents and I'll be right back."

After saying that, he hurriedly closed the door and left.

Song Xingye looked at the logo on the teacup, which also had the words "10th Anniversary of Project 921" printed in blue.

It's an old porcelain cup that's been around for a while.

After taking a couple of sips of tea, a series of neat yet slightly muffled shouts suddenly came from outside the window—

"One! Two! Three! Four!"

Song Xingye got up curiously and walked to the window.

Looking outside, I saw a group of workers in blue overalls gathered together on the previously empty park road, forming a scattered square formation, and then lying down on the gravel ground... doing push-ups.

Factory Director Cheng pushed open the door and came in, carrying a file folder in his hand.

Song Xingye pointed out the window, "Director Cheng, what are the workers doing in broad daylight?"

Cheng Long sighed, as if it were a common occurrence:

"Oh, them? They had no work to do, and they were worried everyone would get bored, so they organized some military training to improve their physical fitness!"