A nation's industrial development begins with junior engineers.

This was my country's clandestine office in Indonesia in the 1960s: it had no embassy insignia, yet it could secretly send submarines, airplanes, and guns into Bandung and Surabaya, and then disappear into the night of Jakarta.

At that moment, in front of the small building, two hands clasped tightly. One belonged to Zhang Dequn, who had rushed here wearily, and the other to Chen Zhongming, who had long since settled here.

"Comrade Dequn, you must be tired from your journey."

"Comrade Zhongming, enough with the formalities! I've got the latest information. Our superiors have instructed us not only to ensure the delivery of supplies, but also to have a clear understanding of the local situation. Do you have any further updates from your side?"

“Our line was originally only responsible for the targeted delivery and handover of ‘supplies,’ and we did not have a detailed enough grasp of the specific situation on the ground.”

Comrade Zhongming, with a solemn expression, led Dequn into the inner room.

"After receiving the instructions, we immediately dispatched more people to gather information from various sources, including the city streets, the docks, and the Chinese community." He pushed open the office door and gestured for Comrade Dequn to sit down. "...The results were not optimistic."

The two entered a simply furnished office with its windows closed. Chen Zhongming closed the door behind him, pointed to the not-too-thick stack of documents on his desk, and frowned.

"Comrade Dequn, take a look for yourself. Although they are just pieces of fragmented information, the direction is very clear... The malice towards our compatriots is escalating, and there are signs of it being organized."

Zhang Dequn sat down and picked up the so-called "document." To be precise, it was a collection of hand-pasted newspaper clippings, made from various sources, including local Chinese tabloids and translations of local language newspapers.

The content is varied, all of which involve harassment, extortion, and violence against Chinese-owned shops, rubber plantations, and fishing boats that have occurred on various islands this year.

The reports are not long and are often tucked away in inconspicuous corners, but the frequency of their occurrence can be clearly seen from the density of the dates in the clippings; the closer to the present, the more frequent they are.

However, in the last month, the relevant reports have mysteriously disappeared, leaving a blank page.

Zhang Dequn flipped through the pages, his face growing increasingly grim. He put down the clippings and looked up at Chen Zhongming: "You're not even publishing newspapers anymore?"

Chen Zhongming nodded heavily, his fingers tapping the table unconsciously: "In the last two months, such incidents have almost disappeared from the public newspapers."

It's not because the issue is gone, but rather because... the issue may have become 'normalized,' or there may be a force causing it to 'disappear.'

Comrade Zhongming paused, a hint of anger in his voice, "Therefore, on behalf of the office, I urgently recommend to the higher authorities: reassess, postpone, or even cancel the transfer plan for those two Type 03 submarines. Giving such a large 'gift' at this time may not be a good thing; it might add fuel to the fire, or it might be like throwing a meat bun to a dog."

"Has the situation become this dire?" Zhang Dequn leaned forward slightly.

“It’s probably more complicated than what I’ve seen in the clippings.” Chen Zhongming sighed. “The undercurrents beneath the surface are always more turbulent than the visible waves.”

Zhang Dequn remained silent for a moment, then his gaze returned to the collection of newspaper clippings.

"Regarding the handover of that Type 03 submarine," Dequn said calmly, closing the clipping album, "you can rest assured for now. I'm afraid they won't get it this year."

Comrade Zhongming was taken aback, his hand holding the teacup paused in mid-air: "Why can't it be delivered? When I returned to China last time to report on my work, I made a special trip to the Jiangnan Shipyard. The boat has already undergone sea trials and is just waiting to be painted and delivered!"

"It's a trial voyage, but plans can't keep up with changes." Comrade Dequn's smile deepened, carrying a hint of mystery, as if he had "something good happening at home."

"We recently 'found' a great treasure! A nearly complete, state-of-the-art Japanese submarine."

"Right now, it's probably being put on the 'operating table' by the family's master chefs, who are happily 'dissecting' it inside and out."

The old buddies at the Jiangnan and Wuchang factories, smelling this, couldn't sit still any longer. I heard they've already submitted a report, clamoring to use the 'new model' as a reference for major overhauls and improvements to our Type 03.

Comrade Dequn picked up his teacup and continued unhurriedly: "As you know, our Type 03 is a copy of the Big Brother's Type 613, which can be considered as solving the problem of whether or not we have it."

But compared to this newly captured "treasure," the difference was immediately apparent. The people at the Jiangnan Factory were ambitious; they submitted a report wanting to learn from the new technologies they had absorbed and to conduct mid-term improvements on the already launched Type 03 aircraft. This improvement would require redrawing the blueprints and adjusting the processes, and it wouldn't be completed in less than six months.

Comrade Zhongming seemed to be deep in thought: "So, the handover will inevitably be delayed?"

“It’s not just a postponement.” Comrade Dequn put down his teacup and tapped his fingers lightly on the table.

"With this valuable buffer time, coupled with the solid intelligence we've submitted regarding the significantly increased risk of anti-Chinese sentiment in the area, the higher-ups will undoubtedly be more cautious, and may even reassess, when considering subsequent military aid. That submarine, perhaps..."

Just then, there was a gentle knock on the office door, which was then pushed open a crack. A confidential clerk from the office peeked in, saw Zhang Dequn present, and swallowed the words he was about to say, looking slightly hesitant.

"Come in, Xiao Zhao. This is Comrade Dequn from 'home,' one of our own," Chen Zhongming introduced.

The confidential clerk, Xiao Zhao, then slipped in, his face beaming with barely suppressed excitement. He lowered his voice and reported, "Director, Comrade Dequn! The 'goods' have arrived!"

A coded telegram has just arrived: our 'fishing boat' has reached the designated outer waters! The telegram inquires whether the handover should proceed as usual, at night, anchored outside Tanjung Priok harbor. They suggest that for secrecy, it's best to do it under the cover of night.

"What?!" Chen Zhongming and Zhang Dequn stood up almost simultaneously, their faces full of astonishment.

"Goods? What goods?" Chen Zhongming asked urgently.

"It's...it's that Type 03!" Xiao Zhao was a little confused by the two people's reactions.

Zhang Dequn was also stunned and blurted out, "Impossible! Weren't you supposed to make improvements? How... how did you just drive over here!"

"This...this isn't right, the Jiangnan Shipyard didn't say anything about delivering the ship ahead of schedule!"

The two implementers of the South Island Project looked at each other in bewilderment.

At this moment, hundreds of nautical miles away on the deep blue water, the Type 03 submarine, resembling a giant black whale, is quietly cutting through the waves.

Moonlight occasionally pierced through the clouds, illuminating its slender and sturdy silhouette.

That is the crystallization of steel created by the shipbuilding industry of New China, through imitation, assimilation, and re-creation, stroke by stroke.

The streamlined hull design is derived from the design of its older brother, the Type 613, but every steel plate and every rivet is imbued with the hard work of the workers and technicians at the Jiangnan Shipyard.

The drainage holes, the sail rudder, and the somewhat rough welds silently proclaimed a starting point in the dim light: this was the Republic's first generation of submarines, a hesitant yet firm first step towards the deep blue sea.

Ok?

Wait, shouldn't a submarine stay underwater except to charge its batteries? Why would it surface...?

This certainly shows that the seemingly mighty "black whale" is not at peace inside at this moment.

"Commander, there's a leak near the sea valve at the bottom of the third compartment! The pressure is slowly rising!"

"What's going on in the third compartment? What's the exact location and the rate of leakage?"

"It's the sealing cap of the port side main sea valve!" came the reply from the third cabin. "The asbestos packing is old and unevenly compressed, creating a small crack! Seawater is seeping in! The pressure is rising by about 0.05 atmospheres per minute!"

"Damn it, it's tangled roots again!" the captain cursed under his breath. This was the second time such a problem had occurred during this long voyage.

Early batches of Type 03 submarines suffered from insufficient domestic materials, processes, and sealing technology at the time. Asbestos rubber packing seals on some key valves were of unstable quality and prone to failure under long-term pressure changes and alternating hot and cold conditions.

"Damage control team, ready!"

The captain gave the order decisively, his voice calm and steady, clearly having a contingency plan for dealing with this kind of "chronic problem." He then turned to the political commissar beside him and said with a wry smile, "Damn it, luckily I had a premonition and surfaced in advance... If it had leaked after diving deeper, it would have been a real mess."

"The damage control team is understaffed!"

"Get those comrades in the rear cabin who are 'borrowing' here to go! Activate the emergency sealing clamps! Prepare to replace the spare packing!"

The political commissar rolled up his sleeves, glanced at the few capable figures rushing towards the third cabin, and chuckled, "You're really not going to hold back, already ordering them around. They're just 'hitchhikers' passengers. I heard that the medals that Company Commander Tang's men have earned up north could crush you!"

"Pah! If we don't plug it up soon, we'll all be swallowed up by the sea! This sea is much deeper than that big bathtub in front of our house!"

"The kind that you can't even fish out!"