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

Upon hearing about Lin Jianguo's development trajectory in the Southern Special Economic Zone over the past few years, Zhao Lichun and Pei Yihong exchanged a glance, both seeing undisguised shock in each other's eyes, and simultaneously gasped.

Everyone knows that the Southern Special Economic Zone is a paradise for adventurers, a hotbed of capital and opportunity, but it is also a jungle where the strong prey on the weak. Many people with large amounts of start-up capital and powerful backgrounds have fallen in, only to end up making no splash at all.

But what about Lin Jianguo?

A young man who had just turned twenty went to Shenzhen with two thousand yuan he had saved. He never mentioned that he was Lin Yang's nephew, nor did he borrow any connections from the industrial system. He started by dealing in electronic watches and selling electrical appliances at street stalls. With his daring and hard-working spirit and his frighteningly accurate vision, he built his first electronic processing plant in just three years. He then entered the foreign trade sector, selling domestically produced light industrial products to Southeast Asia and bringing overseas precision equipment back to the mainland.

By the end of this year, the assets of his Guomao Company had approached ten million yuan, earning him the nickname "Tiger Lin" in Shenzhen's business circles. He had carved out his own unique path in the chaotic special economic zone.

This business acumen far beyond his years, his tenacity to burn his bridges, and the ruthless methods hidden beneath his gentle exterior are all chilling to contemplate.

As night deepened, the laughter and chatter in the restaurant did not diminish in the slightest.

The dishes on the table were changed twice. The table was full of braised pork belly that was stewed until tender, boiled peanuts in salt water, and thinly sliced ​​braised beef. Several jars of aged liquor were emptied.

These veterans, who had survived countless battles, completely shed their usual seriousness and became thoroughly drunk.

Li Yunlong, his face flushed and neck thick from drinking, gripped Kong Jie's arm tightly with one hand and tapped the rim of the bowl with the other. He then began to sing a military song from his guerrilla days in the Taihang Mountains in his hoarse voice. The tune was off-key, but it exuded a heroic spirit that transcended the years.

Ding Wei sat to the side, slapping the table and tapping his feet, occasionally shouting a few words along. Zhao Gang leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with a smile, holding a teacup in his hand, but he didn't stop these old brothers who were rarely indulging in their fun.

Lin Yang sat in the main seat, looking at his old comrades who had crawled out of piles of corpses with him and who had carried the country's industry from scratch. He had a faint smile on his lips and did not say anything to stop them.

He quietly stood up, picked up the black jacket draped over the back of the chair, put it on, and without alerting anyone, pushed open the glass door on the side of the restaurant and walked out slowly, leaving the noise of the room behind.

In the dead of night, the air in Xishan is crisp and pure, carrying the unique, slightly bitter scent of pine needles that instantly awakens the senses when inhaled.

The sky was filled with countless stars, like scattered diamonds on black velvet, densely covering the entire night sky. The Milky Way stretched across the horizon, so clear it seemed you could reach out and touch it. In the distance, only a few scattered lights illuminated the city of Beijing, casting a soft glow in the darkness.

Lin Yang stood on the wide wooden corridor, holding onto the railing with both hands, and took a deep breath of the early winter air.

The burning sensation in his chest, ignited by the strong liquor, gradually subsided under the cool breeze, settling into an absolute rationality that had seen through the world's splendor and vicissitudes.

He is fifty-five years old this year.

Emerging from the icy wastelands of the Korean War and rising from the machine tools of a steel mill in Northeast China, he dedicated half his life to building steel blast furnaces and laying industrial transportation arteries connecting the north and south on this once impoverished land. He weathered countless challenges to the industry's development and withstood round after round of questioning about the reform path.

From the first domestically produced truck rolling off the assembly line to the first large-scale hydropower station connecting to the grid, from the first domestically produced rolling mill going into operation to the establishment of the first special economic zone, he has pushed the country's industrial system step by step, from being poor and backward to having a complete range of industries, and from only being able to imitate crude and cumbersome machinery to being able to independently develop precision equipment.

Today, most of the old comrades who fought alongside me back then are still contributing their remaining energy in important positions, guarding their respective posts.

The backbone of the middle generation, such as Zhao Lichun and Pei Yihong, have grown into industry leaders who can take charge independently and have become the mainstay of the industrial system.

The third generation of the Lin family, Lin Jianguo, made a name for himself in the business world, and Lin Weidong developed a tough character in the army. These young men have already grown fangs strong enough to stand alone on their respective battlefields.

The most difficult days are over. The country's industrial system has finally crossed the line of life and death and embarked on a fast track of rapid development.

Lin Yang stood silently for a long time before slowly taking out a pair of gold-rimmed reading glasses from his coat pocket.

He ran his fingertips over the cool frames of his glasses and couldn't help but sigh softly. Time waits for no one. Even though he maintained a soldier's schedule for many years and had a physique far stronger than ordinary people, his eyesight inevitably began to decline, and he always had to wear these glasses when reading small text.

He then pulled out a neatly folded document from his inner pocket—it was the internal core assessment plan for the expansion of the national special economic and industrial zones in the next phase. It was the result of three months of hard work by the research team, who had traveled to seven coastal provinces. It contained the core layout for the country's industrial development over the next ten years.

Using the dim light of the wall lamp on the corridor wall, Lin Yang put his reading glasses on the bridge of his nose.

He didn't read through the tedious research descriptions word by word; his gaze skipped over the dozens of pages of analysis and landed on the last page of the report.

The paper was covered with densely packed core data, and there was also a blank signature area. Once he signed his name, the plan would officially enter the implementation process, and coastal ports, inland factories, tens of thousands of jobs, and an industrial layout spanning ten years would all be launched.

A night breeze blew by, causing the wind chimes hanging under the eaves to sway gently, and the pages of the report to rustle.

Lin Yang raised his hand and pressed down on the paper, staring at the blank signature line for a long time before finally taking off his reading glasses. He took out a clean white velvet handkerchief from his pocket, lowered his head, and meticulously and slowly wiped away a speck of dust from the lenses, his movements as earnest as if he were wiping a scope he used on the battlefield years ago.

He wiped the lenses clean, folded his reading glasses back up, and carefully put them back in his inner jacket pocket.

Then, Lin Yang steadily closed the heavy assessment plan with both hands, folded it back according to the original creases, and held it in his hand.

He strode along the corridor to its end, where an inconspicuous little door led to a specially designed miniature secret room.

Lin Yang entered a complex string of numbers on the cipher disk. It was the unit number of the Chinese People's Volunteer Army he had served in, plus the date the Battle of Chosin Reservoir had begun. He had used it for decades without ever changing it.

With a dull metallic click, the heavy steel door of the safe slowly opened. Inside, there was no gold or silver jewelry, no private documents, only stacks of neatly arranged industrial planning schemes, core technology research and development materials, and a few medals won on the battlefield years ago.

Lin Yang bent down and carefully placed the assessment plan, which carried the fate of the country's industrial development over the next ten years, into the deepest part of the safe, along with those plans that had changed the country's destiny.

Without lingering any longer, he exerted force with his right hand and slammed the heavy steel door, weighing several hundred kilograms, shut.

"Clang—"

A deep, crisp metallic click echoed through the quiet Xishan Villa, startling several night birds perched on the pine branches.

Lin Yang turned around, his back to the completely locked safe, and looked up at the starry sky.

He raised his right hand and pressed the main power switch on the wall without hesitation.

"Smack."

The dim wall lamp in the corridor went out instantly, and the surroundings sank back into the thick darkness of night.

Lin Yang's tall and proud figure, as imposing as a mountain, completely merged into the boundless, yet vibrant and hopeful, deep night.

The wind was still blowing under the eaves, and the military songs were still being sung in the restaurant. A new dawn, belonging to this country and to the industrial front, was quietly brewing under the deep night.

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