Courtyard House: From Deputy Division Commander to Civilian, Progressing All the Way

at the same time.

Northwest China, Qinghai's Jinyintan, the 211 nuclear weapons base.

In the wards of the underground field hospital.

Ding Wei leaned against the hospital bed, holding a transistor radio in his hands. The radio was still repeatedly broadcasting the news of the successful launch of the "Dongfanghong" satellite.

Tian Yu, wearing a white coat, was changing the dressing on Ding Wei's left leg.

After a year and a half of meticulous treatment, and with the help of special medicines that Lin Yang had obtained from all over the country through his special connections, Ding Wei's leg, which had almost become necrotic, was finally saved. Although he still walks with a slight limp, at least he doesn't need to have it amputated.

"Sister-in-law, be gentle, be gentle, ouch..." Ding Wei deliberately exclaimed twice, then looked at the radio with deep emotion, "Yangzi is a real freak. He's a master at fighting, and he's also adept at managing industry and missiles. With people like them, this country has finally gained a firm foothold."

Tian Yu smiled gently and quickly bandaged the wound.

"Brother Ding, Yangzi is stubborn. Once he's made up his mind, nothing can change it. A few days ago, he made a confidential call to the base and specifically asked about your leg injury. He said that once the turmoil outside calms down a bit, he'll find a way to exonerate you and reinstate you to your original position."

Upon hearing this, Ding Wei's eyes reddened slightly. He waved his hand and gave a self-deprecating laugh.

"Whether I'm exonerated or not, I've come to terms with it. After spending time in that dark cell, I saw through the true colors of those people. Now, being able to keep my life, to hear our atomic bombs explode and watch our satellites launch from this base, makes my life worthwhile!"

In 1970, amidst the pride of the satellite launch and the tension on the border, a new chapter began.

A few months later, in Beijing, in the office of the Minister of Heavy Industry.

After returning to Beijing from Jiuquan, Lin Yang did not stop. With the launch of the satellite, his prestige within the military-industrial system had reached an unprecedented peak.

Zhao Lichun strode into the office and locked the door behind him.

"Minister, things have changed." Zhao Lichun's expression was somewhat grave.

Lin Yang was looking down at a budget document concerning the expansion of a military factory in the Southwest Third Front.

"explain."

"As your reputation has grown, those radical bigwigs in the city have become restless. They dare not make a fuss about the military and aerospace industries, so they have shifted their focus."

Zhao Lichun pushed up his glasses. "They've set their sights on the Hongxing Steel Rolling Mill. After Liu Haizhong messed things up, the mill is now shut down. They're planning to use the pretext of 'rectifying state-owned factories' to send a working group to the city, attempting to completely uproot our last remaining industrial base in Beijing."

Lin Yang put down his pen and tapped his fingers lightly twice on the table.

"The Red Star Steel Rolling Mill is just an empty shell now. If they want it, just give it to them," Lin Yang sneered.

"But Minister, if we let them take complete control, our undercover agents in the factory might be exposed. Besides, it would be a slap in your face," Zhao Lichun said with some concern.

Lin Yang stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the lush poplar trees outside.

"When playing chess on the day of Lichun (the beginning of spring), the worst thing you can do is to be preoccupied with the gains and losses of a single city or battle."

Lin Yang turned his head, his eyes flashing with the cunning and ruthlessness of an old hunter.

"They want to send a work group? Fine, in your capacity as the deputy director of the Ministry's Revolutionary Committee, warmly welcome them to come. Not only welcome them, but also show them the full extent of the factory's financial control and the warehouse doors."

Zhao Lichun was taken aback: "You mean...?"

"Before my elder brother went to the southwest, he not only took the precision machine tools and technical backbone with him, but I also made him replace all the special steel ingots in the factory warehouse with inferior pig iron with anti-rust paint on the surface."

A cruel smile curled at the corners of Lin Yang's lips.

"Right now, there's an urgent production order for military armor steel plates. You'll use extremely forceful administrative methods to pressure the new work group at the Red Star Steel Rolling Mill into completing this task. Tell them it's a death order; failure to complete it will mean missing a crucial military opportunity."

Zhao Lichun's eyes lit up instantly; he immediately understood Lin Yang's series of deadly moves.

These rebels, who only know how to shout slogans, will be completely stumped by the empty technical blueprints, the piles of inferior pig iron, and the extremely stringent military production targets. Failing to deliver military armor plates will be a capital offense!

"Minister, you're brilliant! This is a classic case of luring someone into a trap and then trapping them!"

At that moment, Zhao Lichun rubbed his hands together excitedly. "I'll get on it right away. This time, I'm going to make those blind old geezers in the city grit their teeth and swallow their anger!"

Lin Yang watched Zhao Lichun's departing figure, his eyes still cold and stern.

In this chaotic era,

He not only wanted to create national treasures, but also to use these treasures and absolute power.

A tight, impenetrable web of death is woven within.

Those parasites who attempt to undermine the backbone of the nation will be completely wiped out.

The tumultuous 1970s had begun, and the curtain had been fully raised. Lin Yang, forever, was the player at the center of the storm.

A few days later, at the Beijing Hotel International Press Conference Hall.

The blinding flashes of the spotlight, like bursts of lightning, illuminated the entire hall as if it were daytime. The clicking of camera shutters filled the air.

This was a high-level press conference held by the state after the successful launch of the "Dongfanghong-1" artificial Earth satellite.

A deep red velvet tablecloth covered the platform. Lin Yang, dressed in a crisp general's uniform, had the gold stars on his shoulders gleaming under the lights. He stood tall and straight, like a steel statue forged in the flames of war, his cold face devoid of any superfluous expression.

Seated next to him were several senior officials from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and expert representatives from the aerospace system. But almost all the cameras of Chinese and foreign reporters in the audience were fixed on this iron-willed minister, who was too young but held the lifeline of China's entire heavy industry and military industry.

"General Lin." A blond, blue-eyed reporter from The New York Times stood up, notebook in hand, his tone laced with undisguised arrogance and provocation.

"Congratulations on your country's successful satellite launch. However, many Western defense experts believe that this satellite can only play a piece of music in space and has no substantial military or scientific value other than political propaganda. Furthermore, we have reason to suspect that the launch vehicle technology used by your country is actually residual blueprints left behind by Soviet experts. What is your response to this?"

The moment the question was asked, the entire hall fell silent.

The faces of several Chinese officials turned extremely grim. This was not only a denigration of the hard work of Chinese aerospace engineers, but also a blatant slander.