Courtyard House: I Rely on Time-Space Trade to Build a Nation

Let's go back to half a month ago,

October 23rd, afternoon.

Zhao Ping'an was reading documents when his secretary knocked on the door and came in, holding a telegram.

"Minister, international telecommunications."

Zhao Ping'an took it, glanced at it, and frowned.

Budapest. Demonstrations. Clashes.

He hung up the phone and asked, "Any other news?"

The secretary said, "We just received it; we don't know the follow-up yet."

Zhao Ping'an nodded and dismissed his secretary.

"As expected, it's started!" Zhao Ping'an had been "longing" for yet another disastrous move by the crazed corn.

October 24th.

Telegrams came one after another.

The Red Empire has sent troops. Najib has come to power. The situation is out of control.

Every morning when Zhao Ping'an arrives at the office, the first thing he does is read the latest briefing.

The briefings grew longer and longer, and the situation worsened. Chaos was breaking out everywhere; people were bleeding and dying.

As he looked at the words, he recalled the telegram that Qian Lao had sent a few days earlier.

In the northwest, the Dongfeng-2A has already entered its launch position.

October 27th.

The leader summoned him.

When Zhao Pingan arrived, there were already several people sitting in the conference room.

No one spoke; the atmosphere was heavy.

The leader cut to the chase: "You all know about what happened in Budapest, right?"

Everyone looked at each other, but no one spoke.

Finally, the leader looked at Zhao Ping'an and began to call on him, "Comrade Ping'an, what's your opinion?"

Zhao Ping'an remained silent for a few seconds before speaking, "This matter will cause turmoil in the entire camp."

The leader nodded, waiting for Zhao Ping'an to continue.

Zhao Pingan continued speaking,

"Comrade Khru handled the situation poorly. He first ignored it, allowing the situation to spiral out of control;"

Then he sent troops, which drew international condemnation. His actions will have far-reaching consequences.

Someone nearby coughed softly.

Zhao Pingan continued:

"Warsaw is already unstable. With this commotion in Budapest, other Eastern European countries will likely follow suit."

The Red Empire is currently overwhelmed with problems and has no time for anything else.

The leader countered, "What do you think we should do?"

"Stay calm."

He looked at the leader and said, word by word, "In terms of diplomacy, I suggest that we support the Red Empire."

This is a major issue, and we must stand firm.

But we must remain clear-headed—we must walk our own path. We cannot let them lead us by the nose.

The leader nodded.

"Go on."

Zhao Pingan said,

"The chaos outside presents us with a perfect opportunity."

They can't spare us time, so we'll just have to work faster.

The development of DF missiles, chips, and radars must continue; these areas have always been the weak points of the Red Empire.

And we are catching up with and surpassing those across the ocean! This will be our trump card in the future!

By the time they've cleaned up the mess, our stuff will be done.

At that point, everything will be decided based on strength and status!

The leader looked at Zhao Ping'an for a long time before speaking.

"Okay. Comrade Ping An, you go ahead and get busy. You need to expedite the projects you mentioned and submit a separate report later."

"Yes, sir."

Zhao Pingan stood up and left.

October 30th.

The situation is still developing.

The telegram said that the bloodshed in Budapest was continuing, and the Red Empire was carrying out a purge.

The death toll is rising every day, and the numbers are alarming.

Zhao Ping'an was reading a briefing in his office when his secretary knocked on the door and came in.

October 31st.

The leader summoned him again.

It was the same meeting room, and the same few people.

But the atmosphere is different today; it's not as somber.

The leader looked at Zhao Ping'an: "Is the chip project done?"

Zhao Ping'an nodded: "It's done. The first batch has already been shipped and will arrive in Beijing by the end of the month."

With a yield rate of over 40%, small-batch supply is possible.

The leader nodded, and someone next to him asked, "What about the radar?"

Zhao Pingan said, "It'll be soon. The transmitter is basically complete, and we can assemble and test it as soon as the chips arrive."

A prototype should be available by the end of the year.

The leader looked at him and said, "Let them make a mess outside, we'll do our own thing. You're the one who said that."

Zhao Ping'an nodded.

The leader said, "Well done."

After the meeting ended, Zhao Ping'an walked out.

As he reached the door, his supervisor called him back.

"Comrade Ping An."

Zhao Ping'an turned around.

The leader said, "We anticipate things will get even more chaotic in the future. We still need to race against time to develop."

Then he suddenly spoke in a low voice, "You also need to think about your personal matters; you're already 27."

"Yes, sir." Zhao Ping'an blushed slightly, a rare occurrence for him.

In a few days

Zhao Ping'an was processing documents in his office when Secretary Zhou knocked on the door and came in, holding a telegram.

"From the Northwest Base."

Zhao Pingan took it and glanced at it.

It's very short, just a few words:

"Launch successful. Target hit. Yield as expected."

Zhao Ping'an read the telegram three times, then placed it on the table, his excitement evident on his face. The successful test launch of the 1500-kilometer nuclear missile meant he had finally secured the "good talk card" with the Red Empire.

Just as I was about to pick up my pen to write a congratulatory telegram to send to Mr. Qian,

the phone is ringing.

It's Xiao Zhou.

Telephone networks have now been established in Northeast and North China, allowing direct calls.

In the next two years, Northwest, Central and Southern China will also be gradually included.

"Minister, the radar passed its look-down and shoot-down tests today!"

Zhao Pingan held the phone, listening to Xiao Zhou excitedly saying something on the other end, but he couldn't hear it very clearly.

He suddenly remembered something and looked down at the telegram on the table.

Two portions, one on the left and one on the right.

He said into the phone, "Okay. Got it."

He stood there for a while after hanging up the phone.

Then he picked up the phone and called his secretary.

"Find all the recent telegrams from Liu Ying, Xiao Zhou, and Qian Lao, and put them together."

The secretary paused for a moment, then asked, "Now?"

Zhao Pingan said, "Now."

That evening, after finishing his official business, Zhao Ping'an locked himself in his office alone.

Several telegrams were placed side by side on the table.

Qian Xuesen's statement: "Launch successful. Target hit. Yield as expected."

Xiao Zhou's message: "The radar onboard test was successful, and the downward look-down and downward shot tests met the requirements."

Liu Ying's statement: "The chip yield is stable at 41%. We can supply 5,000 wafers this month."

Even earlier, there was the hydrogen bomb in May, the chip sample in July, and the radar and nuclear weapons in November.

And photos of the previous 7FM fighter jet

He went through each document slowly, one by one. This was a breakthrough in the military industry this year, and the beginning of the Republic's future control of the air...

The night outside the window was dark and the November night in Beijing was already quite cold.

The office was well-heated, and a thin layer of condensation covered the glass.

Zhao Pingan stood up, walked to the window, and ran his finger across the glass.

The moisture was parted, revealing the pitch-black night outside and a few lights in the distance.

It's chaotic outside. The news is flooded with all sorts of stories every day; there's still bloodshed in Eastern Europe.

The Red Empire is in a state of utter chaos, and it seems like something terrible is about to happen in the world.

But things here haven't stopped at all.

Zhao Ping'an stood there for a long time.

Then he returned to his desk, picked up his pen, and sent a telegram to Mr. Qian, Xiao Zhou, and Liu Ying.

The message to Qian Xuesen read: "The two bombs are complete. The radar is also complete. The next step is to prepare."

The message to Xiao Zhou read: "The radar has done a great job. Prepare for mass production and installation; the military will need it next year."

The message to Liu Ying reads: "The chips have been supplied, and the results are good. Continue to expand production, continue to tackle key challenges, and strive to increase production capacity to the million-unit level next year."

After finishing writing, he put down his pen and glanced at the telegrams one last time.

Then he carefully collected them one by one and put them into the drawer.

The moment he closed the drawer, he suddenly remembered the Spring Festival.

I'm still in Yunnan. My older brother just had a son, whom he named Zhenhua.

Nine months have passed in the blink of an eye.

He stood up and walked to the window. The night outside was still dark, but the sky in the east was already beginning to brighten.