A nation's industrial development begins with junior engineers.

In the art capital of France, in a street-front shop on a bustling avenue.

"Oh my goddess, how could such an outrageous thing happen in the world! Are all those Chinese people fools? You simply cannot imagine what amazing results our great Gallic nation has gained in this transaction!"

"Oh?" The blonde woman moved languidly, leisurely chopping some flowers and herbs and gently tossing them into the aromatherapy burner beside her. She slightly raised her eyes, a hint of curiosity flashing in them. "My little sweetheart, why don't you tell me more? You know, I've always been fascinated by that ancient Eastern continent..."

"Hahaha, they invented a language, a language that can change the world!" The blond man laughed wildly, waving his hands in the air as if he had already controlled the future of the world. "The person who created this language is absolutely a genius!"

“Genius! Can you understand?” The blond man emphasized his words, his face full of pride. “Fortunately, the leaders over there don’t seem to have realized the value of this at all. Their focus is only on how to feed their own people.”

"And what we brought was nothing more than a pile of scrap metal and some wheat that was about to mold. And we sent it over under the guise of humanitarian aid, hahahaha..."

"Humanitarianism? This is practically a declaration that their leaders are incompetent and can't even feed their own people!"

The blonde woman's hand suddenly paused, her right hand quietly reaching under the table, followed by a clear cracking sound of bones snapping. At the same time, her left hand grabbed a large handful of flowers and herbs, stuffing them into the incense burner.

If Little Dai Mao were there, he would definitely be extremely envious, since he has to bend each hair one by one to do this action.

“That’s not surprising. In that ancient country, there have always been strange people who consider it an honor to betray their country…” the blonde woman said through gritted teeth, enunciating each word clearly.

Immediately, she changed to a gentle and charming demeanor and asked softly, "Little Sweet Melon, could you demonstrate this magical language to me?"

"Oh my goddess, this is top secret! The original version is still in my uncle's safe. Even I only know that the language is called 'C'!"

"Hmm?" The blonde woman adopted a pitiful and endearing expression.

“However, I did remember a few characters. It starts with int main {…” The blond man dipped his finger in the wine on the table and wrote a string of characters crookedly on the surface.

Is that all?

"Ha! I spotted this during the tour, thanks to my sharp eyes... Oh, my goddess, why am I so dizzy?"

As he spoke, the blond man's eyes gradually became glazed over, his body slumped to the side, and he slumped drowsily onto the counter.

"That's because you're so stupid, you only remember this little bit!" Seeing the man faint, the blonde woman's expression changed instantly, and she started cursing.

Suddenly, the man looked up again, his eyes glazed over: "Goddess, are you praising me? Oh, what language are you speaking? It sounds familiar..."

"You motherfucker!"

The blonde grabbed the man's hair and, with all her might, slammed his head down against the counter.

Thump! The man immediately rolled his eyes, let out a sound, and shrank under the stool.

"Pah! What kind of sleeping potion is this? It's not as good as my own hands!"

A man with a full head of white hair emerged from the inner room of the small shop, dressed in a standard British butler's uniform.

“Hey, Miss. No matter what, this kid is still the nephew of that ‘last man of the Gallic Rooster.’ Your rough treatment is not good, not good at all…”

"Snap!" Another crisp sound of knuckles echoed. "Try saying that to me again!"

The old man reacted extremely quickly, with an agility far beyond his years, instantly covering his mouth, walking briskly to the blond man's side, pulling him up from the ground, and casually tossing him onto the sofa in the corner.

"This isn't right. This drug is usually very potent, so how could this guy last so long?" The old man stroked his chin, his face full of doubt.

He raised his hand and tentatively slapped the man's face twice, muttering, "Could it be that foreigners are naturally resistant to this drug?" "Never mind, the coded communication telegram is ready, you can report at any time!"

The blonde nodded and ducked into a small doorway.

The old man casually turned on the phonograph, and a stirring symphony instantly filled the small shop, the drumbeats perfectly masking the subtle sounds of sending and receiving telegrams.

The hand, marked with age spots, deftly moved over the blond man's body, soon scattering his belongings all over the floor. He picked up a glass bottle. "Huh? What's this...?"

Not long after, the blonde woman who had received the reply came out of there, pouting, and forcefully pulled out an extremely heavy old book.

"Xiao Tao, why can't we catch all the mice? How could he bear to sell something so important!"

The white-haired old man cleared his throat and spoke in a clear voice: "Mulan, it's hard to say whether it's a rat or not. I'm more inclined to believe that our comrades in China have been scammed. Didn't you see that he wanted second-hand equipment and food? If it really is a rat, he will most likely want money or foreign residency."

Mulan thought for a moment and said, "That seems to make sense."

Holding the illegible telegram, I opened the cover of the old book and was surprised to find stacks of thread-bound books inside, numbering at least several dozen.

“First, the subset, then the set of elements…”

After translating word by word, Mulan quickly read through the telegram, her mouth opening wider and wider with each reading.

"Oh dear, it seems I've gotten myself into trouble..."

"Ha, I told you not to be so quick with your hands, let me see what's going on?"

Xiao Tao looked at the telegram and suddenly burst into laughter. Looking at Mulan beside him, whose cheeks were puffed out like steamed buns, he laughed even harder. "Oh wow, you've cleared your name! Looks like that person at home really is a genius!"

Then she whispered again:

"Please cooperate with the advance team to prepare for the establishment of the embassy. At the same time, secretly cooperate with relevant personnel to file a series of patents for the C language at BIRPI, and urge the French side to fulfill its obligations on time..."

"It seems this kid only holds a BIRPI position!"

Having understood the whole story, Mulan's initial anger quickly turned into surprise.

"Your mother, at worst you can be locked up again, but if he insults our elders, I'll still beat him!"

After a pause, Mulan's puffed-up cheeks turned bitter.

"We were planning to run away again, what's with this secret cooperation... What should we do?"

For the first time, Mulan regretted her impulsiveness, not for her own safety, but for the fear of failing to complete the mission.

"A good woman says 'I' without 'we'!" Xiao Tao suddenly laughed. "If you can treat me to stir-fried pork with chili peppers one more time, I have a way to make sure you don't have to run away!"

Hearing what her comrade said, Mulan breathed a sigh of relief.

"We're out of chili peppers, but would you like some bamboo clappers?"