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

It started raining in the latter half of the night.

As the train glided into the military platform on the west side of Beijing Railway Station, the sky had already turned from black to grayish-white. The drizzle fell almost silently, with only the occasional reflections of the incandescent light bulb under the platform canopy from the water droplets hitting the rails.

The platform floor was wet, with water trickling down the edge of the drain into a thin line that flowed into the gravel track beside the rails. Steam rolled in from the direction of the locomotive, carrying the smell of coal ash and casting a dim red glow on the signal lights at the end of the platform.

Jiang Ming jumped out of the boxcar, his military-style rubber-soled boots splashing a small spray of water as he stepped into the puddles. The cold air carried the smell of rust and coal smoke, rushing from his respiratory tract to the bottom of his lungs.

According to the temporary dispatch order, two hard-seat carriages carrying the guard battalion and logistical supplies will be added here. After the train is assembled, it will officially depart with the military train code, travel along the Longhai Railway, transfer to the Lanzhou-Xinjiang Railway via Xi'an, and head straight for the Hexi Corridor.

At the other end of the platform, a figure in a dark gray overcoat walked from the direction of the ticket gate. His steps were not fast but steady, and each step left a clear footprint on the wet ground. Raindrops fell on the woolen fabric on his shoulders, forming fine water droplets, but they did not soak through.

Jiang Ming recognized the figure's silhouette and gait. He took a few steps forward and stopped next to the iron pillar in the middle of the platform.

When Qian Xuesen walked up to him, a small patch of his hair was already wet from the drizzle and stuck to his forehead, but he didn't have an umbrella or wear a hat, as if he hadn't considered the weather at all when he went out.

"Mr. Qian," Jiang Ming called out.

Qian Xuesen stood opposite him, took out a kraft paper envelope from the inside pocket of his coat. There was a dark red sealing wax on the seal of the envelope, and an oval personal seal was pressed on the sealing wax. The edges were neat and there were no cracks, indicating that it had not been opened after being sealed.

"This letter is addressed to Commander Zhou of the Northwest Air Defense Command." Qian Xuesen handed over the envelope, his fingers lingering on the surface for a moment before releasing it. "In the letter, I explained the technical principles and tactical feasibility of your centimeter-wave passive suppression scheme. After Commander Zhou reads this letter, he will allow you to directly participate in the command's tactical decision-making meetings."

Jiang Ming reached out and took the envelope. The sealing wax was as cold as the surface of the envelope. The kraft paper had absorbed a small amount of moisture in the drizzle and become slightly soft. He put the envelope into the inner pocket of his cotton coat and pressed it with his palm to make sure it fit snugly against his chest without any creases.

"Xiao Jiang." Qian Xuesen's voice wasn't loud amidst the noise of train formations and rain on the platform, but he pronounced each consonant very clearly. "The front line is the battlefield. There can be no ambiguity in the technology. The parameters must be calculated exactly as they are. We can't skip any verification steps just to save time. You understand what I mean."

"clear."

"There's one more thing." Qian Xuesen took half a step forward, shortening the distance between them to less than a meter. Raindrops from the drizzle slid down his shoulder and splashed onto Jiang Ming's sleeve. "When you get there, you'll encounter some things unrelated to technology. Some of these things may involve people and projects from a long time ago. Don't avoid them, but don't be impulsive either. Complete the technical tasks first, and we'll talk about the rest when you get back."

Jiang Ming understood the unspoken part of the sentence: Qian Xuesen knew about Lao Lei's case, the connection between Mine No. 04 and Lightning No. 7, and that this trip to the west was not just about technical support.

"Come back safely." After saying these three words, Qian Xuesen took a half step back, put his hands back into his coat pockets, and rainwater streamed down the front of his coat, forming a small dark puddle on the cement ground at his feet.

Jiang Ming pulled his right hand out of his pocket, raised it to the brim of his hat with his five fingers together, and gave Qian Xuesen a military salute.

He had never served in the military; he learned this posture from the bosun on the ship. His hand shape wasn't quite right; his little finger was slightly upturned, but his arm was taut at a very straight angle.

Qian Xuesen looked at the hand he had raised, his lips twitched slightly, but he didn't form a smile or any other expression. He simply nodded slightly, then turned and walked towards the platform exit.

The figure in the dark gray coat gradually shrank in the drizzle. When he reached the iron railing at the ticket gate, he paused for a moment, as if looking back at something. However, due to the distance and the rain, Jiang Ming couldn't tell whether he had actually turned around or not.

Director Wang walked around from the other side of the freight car, his footsteps splashing in the puddles. He stopped next to the crew-cut officer, and the two of them spoke for about half a minute with their backs to Jiang Ming. Their voices were completely drowned out by the clanging of metal from the marshalling yard.

After speaking, Director Wang patted the crew-cut clerk on the shoulder, not with much force but for a longer time than usual. Then he turned to face Jiang Ming, raindrops dripping from the brim of his hat and hanging on the tip of his chin.

"Comrade Song is fully responsible for everything on the road. For any matters outside of technical matters, listen to his arrangements first and do not act on your own." Director Wang's tone was no different from when he usually gave instructions—dry and leaving no room for negotiation.

"clear."

"And another thing." Director Wang lowered his voice, took a half step forward, and his lips were almost touching the cold air near Jiang Ming's ear. "I held up Meng Dechang's business trip application for three days, but yesterday afternoon he bypassed it through another approval route. His destination was changed to a visit to the logistics department of the Lanzhou Military Region. The route is one train away from yours."

Jiang Ming's fingers touched the corner of the wax-sealed letter in his pocket, and his fingertips tightened for a moment.

"I'm keeping an eye on him in Beijing, but I don't have enough manpower outside of Gansu." Director Wang stepped back to a normal distance, straightened his hat, and said, "You know what's going on."

The marshalling operation on the platform was finished. A dispatcher in a railway uniform ran over from the direction of the locomotive, holding a red and green signal flag and blowing a metal whistle. The sharp whistle sounded far away in the rain.

The guards had already boarded the train. Dim yellow light shone through the windows of the two hard-seat carriages, and blurry figures swayed behind the windows.

The flat-headed clerk opened the sliding door of the freight car wide enough for a person to pass sideways and gestured for Jiang Ming to get on.

Jiang Ming stepped over the welded iron footstool under the carriage door and climbed in. The smell of straw and canvas mixed with the cold, metallic scent of metal hit him. Old Sun sat next to the shockproof box, sanding a newly whittled bamboo chopstick. Fang Xudong closed his notebook and stuffed it inside his cotton coat. Everyone was in their places as if they had never gotten off the train.

The whistle sounded again, this time signaling the official departure. Three long and two short blasts echoed through the rain, vibrating the corrugated iron roof of the platform.

As the train started moving, the traction force was transmitted from the locomotive through one carriage to the rear. A tremor, gradually increasing in intensity, came from the floor of the boxcar. The equipment in the six shockproof boxes, wrapped in straw and quilts, swayed slightly before stabilizing.

Jiang Ming sat in a spot where he could see outside through the gap in the sliding door. The platform slowly receded in his field of vision, and raindrops were blown diagonally through the gap by the airflow from the moving train.

In the corner of the platform, in the shadow of the gray brick wall near the freight warehouse, a figure turned around the instant the train started moving. The movement was quick, as if startled by something, and suddenly walked in the opposite direction.

The figure was wearing a long coat, the color of which was indistinguishable under the shadows and rain, but the outline of the coat and the style of the lapel were very similar to the silhouette Jiang Ming had seen under the telephone pole at the end of the factory platform late the night before last.

The felt hat, with its brim pulled low, revealed a glimpse of the profile for half a second as the person turned, before quickly disappearing behind the corner of the freight warehouse.

Jiang Ming didn't jump up or call out to anyone. He simply turned his gaze away from the spot that had disappeared and placed it on the metal buckle of the toolbox above his knees. He pressed his fingers on the metal plate of the buckle and felt the subtle frequency of the train's vibrations.

As the steam locomotive's wheels rolled over the last set of switches at the end of the platform, a louder impact than usual came from the rail joint. The entire train paused slightly before regaining its speed, and the loud whistle was left further and further behind. Everything on the platform was swallowed up by the rain and the accelerating distance.

The train rushed into the open fields on the outskirts of the city. The scenery on both sides changed from buildings to bare farmland and distant, hazy rows of trees. The rain had not stopped, but it had lessened, becoming as fine as mist floating on the open ground on both sides of the tracks.

Jiang Ming dragged the toolbox over and placed it on his lap. He unfastened the clasp, reached into the bottom stack of oil paper, and touched the rough cover of the kraft paper notebook.

He didn't take it out to look at it. There were other people in the carriage. Although the crew-cut officer was leaning against the door frame with his eyes closed, his breathing wasn't that of someone who was actually asleep.

My fingers lingered on the kraft paper cover for two seconds before I closed the lid and fastened the buckle again.

The sky outside the car window was still dark gray, with the northern clouds hanging low, almost touching the stubble of the harvested straw in the open fields.

Occasionally, one or two morning stars would flash through the gaps in the clouds, only to be quickly obscured again.

The train plunged into the deeper darkness ahead.

The sound of the train clashing against the rails grew faster and more frequent.

Beijing was left behind. The platform, the rain, the wax-sealed letter handed to him by Qian Xuesen, and the figure in the long coat in the shadow of the freight warehouse all gradually sank into darkness with the sound of the wheels.

The carriage was once again filled only with oil lamps, straw, shock-absorbing boxes, and endless jolts.