1970s: Commander Huo, Your Wife Has Been Absorbed by the State!

After a space interception and a wormhole穿越, Ming Zhao opened her eyes to find herself in 1970 as the "little pitiful one" abused by her adoptive parents.

The Alliance's new scien...

Chapter 163 Let me try again?

The wind tunnel at the base was still whistling softly, but the atmosphere on the project command center platform was unusually somber.

Mingzhao's blueprint, filled with a futuristic and violent aesthetic, did not instantly ignite the curiosity, passion, and excitement of these scientists; instead, it triggered a violent explosion and endless anxiety.

After a brief moment of distraction, a torrent of criticism surged forth, almost filling Zhang Mingyuan's eardrums.

"An S-shaped air intake? How do you solve the airflow separation problem? Vortex loss control means the plane will crash and people will die!"

"0.0001 millimeter tolerance? Old Li, what's the precision of the best hand-cranked grinder in your precision workshop?"

"0.01 millimeters is the absolute maximum! It still depends on the skill and feel of a master craftsman!"

"And this material! The wave absorption performance! The temperature resistance requirements! Even a god couldn't create this!"

"These blueprints... are just empty talk! Try submitting them to a science fiction magazine; maybe they'll fetch some money!"

The pneumatics expert turned pale, the senior technician in charge of precision machining trembled, and the head of the materials group shook his head repeatedly, their eyes filled with rejection, disapproval, and disbelief.

The paradise depicted in this interstellar federation's fighter blueprint was shattered by the cold walls of reality.

The enormous technological gap between the 1970s and the interstellar federation's technological level remains an insurmountable barrier, even with Mingzhao's adjustments.

Wang Tiezhu finally recovered from his initial shock and speechlessness.

A flush returned to his pale face, a reaction to the humiliation, a mixture of anger that he knew it and the excitement of having found a weakness.

He abruptly pushed aside the engineer blocking his way, his burly frame once again blocking Mingzhao's path. Pointing at the astonishing yet impractical blueprint on the drawing board, he spoke with spittle flying from his mouth, his loud voice drowning out all doubts:

"Academician Zhang Meng! Comrades! Have you all seen it clearly?!"

He looked around, trying to rally all his companions who had been hit hard by reality.

"What ghost? What 0.001? It's all nonsense! It's a castle in the air! It's a fantasy that can't be realized at all! This blueprint, apart from having pretty lines, is utterly useless!"

He abruptly turned to Zhang Meng, his tone carrying a heart-wrenching accusation and a naked plea:

"Chief Engineer! Our Xuan Ying project is on a tight timeline! The enemy is defecating and urinating on our heads every day! Every minute and every second is being paid for with the blood of frontline pilots! We can't afford to waste it! We can't waste our precious time and limited manpower and resources on this... this kind of fanciful, doomed-to-fail thing!"

He took a deep breath and raised his voice even higher.

"I strongly suggest! We must immediately stop this unrealistic fantasy! We must return to the sound and feasible technical route we have previously demonstrated! Although the RCS reduction may be limited, at least we can build it! We can fly! We can fight the enemy on the battlefield! Instead of daydreaming here over this piece of waste paper!"

He practically roared out the last three words, his finger slamming heavily onto Mingzhao's blueprint.

The platform was deathly silent.

Aside from the sound of the wind tunnel, the only other sound was Wang Tiezhu's heavy breathing.

Many engineers lowered their heads, their eyes filled with complex emotions.

Although Wang Tiezhu's words were harsh, they... struck a chord with the cruel reality.

Time, materials, craftsmanship... aren't they all deadly nooses around our necks?

Academician Zhang Meng's gaze remained fixed on Ming Zhao's blueprints. Her fingertips unconsciously traced the interstellar topology symbol that had caused her pupils to contract, then slowly moved away, scanning every corner of the blueprint marked as impossible.

Finally, her gaze fell on Mingzhao's still calm and expressionless face.

There was no anger, no explanation, not even a hint of being questioned.

Mingzhao's eyes were as calm as a bottomless, icy pool.

"What's all the noise about?"

Zhang Meng's voice wasn't loud, but it quickly calmed down the intense atmosphere.

She pushed up her black-rimmed glasses, her sharp gaze sweeping over Wang Tiezhu and then over all the engineers who had their heads down.

"Can a debate over policy direction be won with just words? Can an airplane be built by banging on a table?"

She pointed sharply to the huge workshop below the platform, brightly lit and filled with the roar of machine tools:

"The blueprints are right here! The requirements are right here too! Whether we can make it or not, let's go to the workshop! Let's go to the machine tool! Let the parts speak for themselves! Let the scrap rate speak for itself! Practice is the sole criterion for testing truth! Deputy Chief Engineer Wang, you are experienced, you personally lead the precision machining team, according to these blueprints, first mill out a one-to-one verification model of the machine head and the S-shaped air intake for me!"

Her gaze finally settled on Mingzhao, with a resolute air of desperation: "Comrade Ling, you go down too. Watch them do it. Tell them what you want!"

---

The base's precision processing workshop.

The strong smell of cutting fluid, metal dust, and engine oil mingled together, filling the sweltering air.

The massive gantry milling machine emitted a heavy, laborious roar, like an old ox struggling under its weight. Master Chen, an eighth-grade fitter, a lean man with calloused and scarred hands, was hunched over, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the rapidly spinning milling cutter head, his oil-stained hands carefully manipulating the huge handwheel.

An expensive piece of aerospace aluminum ingot was firmly fixed to the milling machine table.

Lay out next to it is a magnified version of a section of the complex curved surface drawing of Mingzhao's diamond-shaped nose and twisted S-shaped air intake.

The precise angles and radii of curvature marked on the drawings looked like a devil's incantation under the dim workshop lights.

"Slow down! Slow down even more! Master Chen! Angle! Pay attention to the angle of this transition surface!"

Wang Tiezhu stood to the side, sweat beading on his forehead, giving instructions in a hoarse voice.

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