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

There were no lights on the platform of the factory's dedicated railway line; only the flames from the steam locomotive's boiler vents cast a flickering orange-red glow on the rails.

The military truck was parked next to the sealed cargo box, the rear panel not yet closed.

The whistle sounded once long and twice short, and white steam spewed out from the exhaust valve on the top of the locomotive, spreading rapidly in the cold air and obscuring the moon overhead, leaving only a blurry white edge.

Jiang Ming stood in front of the sliding door, watching the soldiers carry the last shockproof box off the vehicle.

The two people, one in front of the other, carried the angle iron frame at the bottom of the box, their footsteps making a soft, rustling sound as they stepped on the gravel bed.

"Be gentle, there's a glass tube inside." Old Sun followed behind the box, one hand lightly supporting the side of the metal shell, the white breath from his mouth still lingering after he finished speaking.

The freight car was already lined with two layers of straw, and military tarpaulins were placed on top of the straw.

The first five shockproof boxes were arranged on the left side of the vehicle according to their weight. Sandbags and old cotton quilts were stuffed between the boxes, and the outermost layer was tied to the iron ring on the vehicle wall with thick hemp rope.

After the last box was pushed in, Old Sun squatted down and tightened the knot again by hand.

Xiao Zhao and Da Liu stood on the edge of the platform, both wearing thick cotton-padded coats with their hands tucked into their sleeves. Their expressions flickered in the firelight of the steam locomotive.

"I've arranged the shift schedule for Workshop No. 1. The B-type tube backup test will be conducted twice a day, from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. Record the data in the red notebook." Jiang Ming took out a folded piece of paper from his cotton coat pocket and handed it to Xiao Zhao. "Measure the conductivity of the deionized water column once every morning. If it exceeds 0.5 microns, Siemens will replace the resin column immediately. Don't delay."

Xiao Zhao took the paper, glanced at it, and immediately folded it neatly, stuffing it into the inside pocket of his cotton-padded coat: "Don't worry, nothing will go wrong."

Da Liu rubbed his ears, which were red from the cold, and pulled a military water bottle from his pocket, handing it to Lao Sun: "Master, this is filled with boiled water for the road."

Old Sun took the water bottle and hung it on his belt, then patted Big Liu on the shoulder without saying a word.

Fang Xudong had already boarded the carriage. He sat on a haystack on the right side opposite the shock-absorbing box, with a black notebook spread out on his lap. Before the bumpy ride even started, he had already written the first line with a pencil in his hand.

The crew-cut officer was the last to board the vehicle. He stood against the door frame inside the sliding door, the canvas holster on his waist unbuckled, and his canteen and food bag hanging on the other side.

After scanning the platform and the direction of the trucks to make sure there was nothing amiss, he pulled the sliding door shut from the inside, leaving only a gap about twenty centimeters wide.

Jiang Ming sat down on a pile of straw deep inside the carriage, leaning against the wooden board on the side of the carriage. He took out the topographic map of Northwest China from his toolbox, unfolded it, and laid it on his lap. The red and blue pencils were barely visible in the dim light coming in from the platform. He could only mark the directional information he had obtained from telegrams and subcarrier translations between the contour lines on the northern foothills of the Altun Mountains from memory.

The location of the No. 04 old mine shaft on the map is a dense area of ​​intersecting contour lines, with an elevation marked at 3,400 meters. To the north is a steep cliff, and to the south and east are two dry riverbeds that flow from the mountainside into the Gobi Desert. Only to the west is a dirt road marked with a dotted line that connects to the highway at the foot of the mountain.

"If their antenna is mounted in a crack in the rock wall above the mine, using multipath reflection from the mountain surface to form directional radiation, then the main lobe of the transmission area should be oriented southeast to south, which would cover the communication corridor of the main force regiment at the front line," Jiang Ming said to Fang Xudong while drawing a radial fan on the map.

Fang Xudong looked up from his laptop and leaned over to take a look at the angle of the fan shape.

"The three-kilowatt system is divided into several units connected in parallel, each with approximately seven or eight hundred watts to one thousand watts, which is close to the power level of the Yuanlei-1," Fang Xudong pointed to the edge of the fan-shaped structure. "If we take the Yuanlei-1 there and use it to perform fixed-frequency pulse radiation, hitting the other side's antenna array in the direction of the pulse, could we burn through their receiving protection circuit?"

"We need to consider the distance and antenna gain. We'll calculate it after we get there and measure the path loss." Jiang Ming folded the map and stuffed it into the side pocket of his toolbox. "Let's get there alive first."

Outside the carriage came the sharp, short whistle of a railway switchman, which rang out three times. Then the steam locomotive whistled again, followed by a series of metallic clanging sounds from front to back. It was the sound of the couplers being pulled together as each carriage engaged with the one in front of it.

The floor of the boxcar began to vibrate slightly, and fine dust from the straw was stirred up and floated in the air. The equipment in the six shockproof boxes swayed slightly as the car accelerated from the start, and the ropes tightened and then loosened back into place.

Jiang Ming peered out through the crack in the sliding door. On the platform, Xiao Zhao and Da Liu's figures were slowly moving backward. The two stood on the edge of the gravel track and raised their hands toward the carriage until the steam and darkness completely swallowed their silhouettes.

At the end of the platform stood a concrete utility pole, beneath which lay a dark, unlit area. As the train passed that spot, it was moving slowly. In the instant Jiang Ming's gaze swept across the shadows, he caught a glimpse of a human-shaped silhouette.

The man was wearing a knee-length overcoat and a felt hat with the brim pulled low. He had his hands in his coat pockets and was standing sideways to the railway tracks, as if he was waiting for someone or looking at something.

The train continued to accelerate, and the silhouette was left out of sight in half a second. Jiang Ming couldn't see his face clearly, but the color of his coat appeared as a deep, dark red in the last glimmer of the boiler firelight.

He didn't mention it to anyone because he wasn't sure if what he saw was a real figure or an illusion caused by the steam, since the platform was too far from the signal lights and no one would normally be standing there.

When the train left the junction of the factory's dedicated line and merged into the main line leading to the Beijing marshalling yard, its speed had already increased to about forty kilometers per hour.

The rhythm of the wheels rolling over the rail gaps became even and dense, and the frequency of the vibration of the metal carriage walls stabilized, becoming a low, continuous hum.

Old Sun wrapped his cotton-padded coat tighter, leaned against the haystack, closed his eyes, and his breathing quickly became long and even.

Fang Xudong was still writing notes, the pencil tip drawing slightly undulating characters on the paper as the carriage swayed.

The crew-cut officer changed his posture, from standing to half-squatting by the sliding door, with one hand on his knee and the other hand never leaving the holster.

Jiang Ming dragged the toolbox from his side, opened the lid, and felt the hard cover of the kraft paper notebook in the bottom stack of oil paper-wrapped items.

The familiar feel of the rough paper fibers under his fingertips was so comforting. He didn't pull the notebook out, but just made sure it was still in the same place before closing the lid and fastening the clasp again.

The night grew darker and darker outside the sliding door, and scattered lights from the suburbs swept past the carriage one by one before being swallowed by steam and darkness.

According to the dispatch order, the train will make a brief stop at the military platform on the west side of Beijing Railway Station to add guard and logistics supply carriages before officially heading west under the military train code.

Jiang Ming sat leaning against the side of the train, listening to the wheels tapping against the seams of the rails.

The sound didn't sound like a departure; it sounded more like a countdown.

Beijing has not yet been truly left behind, but the Northwest is already pressing in inch by inch in the darkness.