I started with a ship full of max-level veterans, and I'm just a complete noob.

The wooden door to the conference room was pushed open, and a crew-cut officer from the security department walked in first, followed by two armed guards. The sound of their boots clicking on the concrete floor interrupted the argument inside.

The clerk with the crew cut, carrying a red folder with two diagonal red bars on the cover, stood in front of the table and saluted the deputy director.

"Sir, as instructed by Director Wang of the Confidentiality and Security Department, the military electron tube project undertaken by Workshop No. 1 has been upgraded to a top-secret air defense project."

He opened the folder, revealing a half-page copy of the transfer order, with a blue triangular stamp pressed against the lower right corner.

"According to Article 17, Paragraph 3 of the Confidentiality Regulations, large external metal components must first pass an anti-magnetic assessment and anti-espionage review before entering a top-secret work site, with a period of no less than 15 working days."

The flat-topped clerk closed the folder and looked at the deputy director.

"Has the review application from the materials allocation department been submitted?"

The only sound in the conference room was the intermittent pounding of water from the heating pipes. The deputy director loosened the enamel mug, leaving a white mark on the table with the bottom of the mug.

He looked at Xu Chongwen, whose lips were pursed, his thumb pressing against the brass clasp of his briefcase, the latch making a short, soft click.

Fifteen working days is enough to keep the wind tunnel model outside Workshop 1, and also enough for the Type B tube to complete a 500-hour life test. The site on the south side can no longer be requisitioned.

The deputy director stood up, folded the site requisition notice in half, stuffed it into his briefcase, and fastened the brass clasp.

"Director Zhang, this is because the allocation department didn't do its homework properly beforehand."

He picked up his briefcase, avoiding Xu Chongwen's gaze.

"We really don't know the level of confidentiality and the working environment of Workshop No. 1. I will rescind the administrative order when I get back, so as not to delay the progress of the project."

Factory Director Zhang stood up and gestured towards the door.

"Deputy Director, please take care. The roads outside are slippery. Please let the gatekeeper see you off."

The deputy director nodded and left, not stopping as he passed Xu Chongwen.

Xu Chongwen remained seated, his leather briefcase on his lap creased from his grip.

Jiang Ming retrieved the six pages of letter paper from the end of the table, folded them, stuffed them into a kraft paper envelope, and then put them back into the inner pocket of his work clothes.

He nodded to the crew-cut clerk, then turned and walked out of the meeting room.

The cement floor of the corridor still bore the watermarks left by the security guard as he stepped over them and headed straight for Workshop No. 1.

The screeching sound of a chair leg dragging on the ground came from behind him, but Jiang Ming did not turn around.

When Director Zhang left, Xu Chongwen and his assistant had already reached the end of the administration building, their figures dimmed by the snow light outside the window.

Wu Hanzhang stood beside Director Zhang, speaking in a very low voice.

"This time the blockage has been closed, but Xu Chongwen won't stop; he'll find another way."

Factory Director Zhang put his hands into the pockets of his military overcoat and walked down the stairs.

"As long as the security level of Workshop No. 1 is not downgraded, he can only wander around outside."

Wu Hanzhang glanced at him.

"Keep those pages of letter paper safe; they'll be needed for the review later."

Factory Director Zhang responded, without stopping.

Outside the administration building, Xu Chongwen opened the back door of the jeep and got in. He loosened the handle of his briefcase with his right hand, revealing a deep red welt on his palm.

He stared at the thin mist on the windshield, each word uttered between his teeth.

"Go check."

The assistant took out a small notebook and turned to a blank page.

Xu Chongwen withdrew his gaze.

"Investigate the source of their electrophoresis suspension raw materials, where they get the acetone, who approves the nitric acid, and who signs off on the purity test of cerium oxalate."

The assistant quickly jotted it down.

Xu Chongwen leaned back in his chair, pressing the briefcase on his lap tightly again.

"No matter how high the security level of Workshop No. 1 is, the raw material chain is always outside. If even one link is not clean, the entire line can be shut down."

The jeep drove away from the administration building, its tires crunching over the remaining snow in front of the gate, and covered in mud as it drove towards the factory gate.

In the Gobi Desert of Northwest China, a fierce wind swept across the wilderness, carrying ice shards and sand. The wooden houses at the second directional point trembled in the wind, and the cold air seeping in through the cracks in the door tore away the heat inside.

Chen Zhiyuan pushed the door open and came in, using his frozen fingers to push the latch shut. His cotton overcoat billowed in the wind, and in the corner of the room, there was only ashes and a few pieces of unburnt cow dung cakes in the tin stove.

He stuffed dry firewood into the furnace, struck three matches to start a fire, and then sat down at the test bench to turn the tuning knob of the Soviet-made shortwave receiver.

The power indicator light was on red, and static was continuously emanating from the speaker.

Chen Zhiyuan put on his headphones and slowly swept his index finger along the frequency dial.

Every fifteen seconds, a series of short pulses would appear in the headphones.

Three short, one long, and three short again.

The intervals are still getting shorter.

The wooden door was pushed open again, and Lu Qinghe squeezed in sideways, using her shoulder to push the door back in. She was holding a canvas bag in both hands, her cotton hat brim was covered in white frost, and her cheeks were purple from the cold.

She placed the canvas bag on the table and unfolded it; inside were sample tubes, number A01.

Chen Zhiyuan took the sample tube and examined it against the gray-white daylight through the window.

The original uniform light gold rare earth coating inside the tube shell has turned black on the top third, and the edges are peeling off.

Lu Qinghe took off her cotton gloves and rubbed her frozen fingers.

"Completely ruined."

She looked at the sample tube, her voice hoarse from the Gobi wind.

"During the last test, the transmission current was only a little over 80 microamps, which couldn't support the signal amplification. I asked the communications team to switch to the A02, but the A02 had already been running for 50 hours and the attenuation couldn't be controlled either."

Chen Zhiyuan put the Jia Lingyi back on the table, his gaze darkening.

It was 275 microamps when it left the factory, but dropped to 80 microamps after more than 60 hours. The series of pulses hit it in waves, forcibly squeezing out the rare earth particles in the coating from between the grains.

"What about Class A03?"

Lu Qinghe walked to the map. A 1:50,000 scale military map with contour lines was nailed to the wooden wall. An area was circled in the upper right corner with a red pencil, and the abandoned camel trail was marked next to it.

"It's still being used for a limited time, twenty minutes each time, and it's lasting for now."

Her finger landed on the edge of the red circle.

"After advancing two kilometers forward from West Point, the convergence of the azimuth lines is better than last week, but it's still one step short."

She turned to look at Chen Zhiyuan.

"The false signal reflected by the ridge is less than four degrees different from the true azimuth, and this receiver cannot distinguish it."

Chen Zhiyuan rubbed his chapped cheeks; his palms were rough, and a slight stinging sensation came from them.

"The type B tubes in Beijing have already undergone life testing. Jiang Ming said that five tubes are running simultaneously, with data recorded every two hours."

Lu Qinghe stared at him.

"How long will it take to deliver?"

Chen Zhiyuan looked at the notebook on the table; the number he was talking about had already sunk into his stomach before he could even utter it.

Five hundred hours.

Lu Qinghe didn't reply, only staring at the red circle on the map.

The pulse in the headphones went off again, this time with an interval two seconds shorter than before.

Chen Zhiyuan fastened his headphones again, pressed his right hand against the notebook, and used his left hand to hold a pencil to mark the time.

"The frequency of telegram transmission is increasing."

The pen tip left deep marks on the paper.

"Last week, each round lasted 28 to 33 seconds, now it's 15 seconds, and the next round will be even shorter."

Lu Qinghe returned to the testing platform, looking down at the scrapped Jia-01, its casing reflecting the orange light of the newly lit furnace.

"They're in a hurry."

She put her gloves back on and pressed her fingertips against the edge of the map.

"The increased activity frequency can only mean that they are finishing up a certain action."

Chen Zhiyuan's pencil stopped on the paper.

"If the accuracy of the orientation is not even one degree within 48 hours, we won't even be able to grasp the direction when they actually take action."

The wind outside picked up, making the wooden walls feel stuffy, and the fire in the stove was suppressed by the cold air seeping in through the cracks in the door.

Chen Zhiyuan looked at the charred and peeling coating of the Type 01 pencil on the table, loosened his grip on the pencil, and slammed his fist on the wooden table, causing the sample tube to roll slightly half a circle.

He stared at the dead tube and squeezed out a sentence.

Will the B-type pipes from Beijing actually be produced?

The fire flickered, and the sound of three short, one long, and three short beeps came through the headphones again.

Chen Zhiyuan looked up at the north, his eyes bloodshot from the cold.

"Jiang Ming, you have to hurry."