"So what if I lost a leg? From now on, can I be your leg?" Liu Wenjun said this almost pleadingly.

Jiang Feng closed his eyes, his brows furrowed in pain, his Adam's apple bobbing violently, but he couldn't utter a single word.

Every question Liu Wenjun posed was like a red-hot iron, searing his already battered heart.

How could he not want to stand up? More than anyone else! But his hopes were dashed time and time again, and the coldness of reality plunged him into an even deeper abyss.

He didn't want to see his wife suffer that contempt and humiliation for him anymore! That kind of helpless pain was a hundred times worse than a broken leg!

He wouldn't even lie to her!

With this thought surfacing in her mind, Liu Wenjun was truly in despair.

Just then, the half-closed door was gently pushed open a crack.

A slender figure stood quietly at the door; it was Mingzhao.

She was still covered in engine oil and dust. She held something wrapped in old newspaper in her hand, her gaze calmly sweeping over the scattered blueprints on the ground, over Liu Wenjun who was squatting on the ground crying, and finally landing on Jiang Feng, whose eyes were closed and who exuded an aura of death.

Liu Wenjun noticed the commotion, her eyes blurry with tears, and looked up. Seeing it was Mingzhao, she was overcome with grief and choked out, "Mingzhao... Dean... the Dean... he doesn't agree... he said... the materials aren't enough... the technology isn't up to par... it's just wishful thinking..."

She couldn't continue, covered her face, and suppressed sobs leaked out from between her fingers.

Mingzhao listened quietly. She walked to the scattered drawings, squatted down, and picked them up one by one with steady and precise movements, then folded them neatly.

Her fingers paused slightly as they brushed over the core structure diagram, which was scorched by cigarette ash.

Then, she stood up, walked to Liu Wenjun, and stuffed the neatly arranged blueprints back into her hands.

"This is??"

Liu Wenjun looked up blankly, her vision blurred by tears, and all she could see were Mingzhao's clear yet unfathomable eyes.

Immediately afterwards, Mingzhao handed over the inconspicuous-looking thing wrapped in old newspaper.

The newspaper was wrapped haphazardly, revealing a rough metal edge and a few bare wires underneath.

Liu Wenjun caught it instinctively; it felt heavy in her hand, with a cold, metallic texture. She looked at Mingzhao, puzzled.

Mingzhao's gaze shifted to the blueprints on the ground, then returned to Liu Wenjun. Her voice remained calm as always, even carrying a slight pause characteristic of hers when she was contemplating, but every word was crystal clear, like cold raindrops striking the still surface of water:

"Remote visualization drone, give this to the dean."

She pointed to the old newspaper package in Liu Wenjun's hand.

“If we have enough materials.” She pointed to the stack of blueprints again, her tone stating a fact with certainty, as if she were saying that the weather was nice today.

“I can do better.”

Liu Wenjun was stunned, and even forgot to cry.

She looked down at the simple package in her hand, then at Mingzhao's expressionless yet unusually serious face.

For the dean? This? The dean scoffs at even such exquisite blueprints, would he really care about this thing wrapped in tattered newspaper?

“Mingzhao…this…” Liu Wenjun’s voice was hoarse, her mind was a little slow to process what was happening, and her voice was full of doubt.

Mingzhao didn't seem to need her understanding.

After giving her instructions, she glanced at Jiang Feng and said firmly, "Trust me, I can do it."

Then he turned and left.

The room fell silent, with only the old newspaper bundle in Liu Wenjun's hand serving as a heavy reminder of what had just happened.

Liu Wenjun looked down at the package, then at the drawings in her hand that were burned by cigarette ash, and then at her husband in the wheelchair who looked ashen.

Liu Wenjun opened the package, revealing a very ugly thing, with a piece of paper next to it.

"This is?"

The slip of paper contained the instruction manual. After reading its contents, a hint of surprise flashed in Liu Wenjun's eyes, followed by unwavering determination.

Zhang Mingyuan! You don't believe me, do you? You say the technology isn't up to par, right? You say there aren't enough materials, right? You say this is just empty talk, right?

Good! Good! Good!

Liu Wenjun suddenly clenched the package in her hand! The rough edges of the newspaper hurt her palm!

"Jiang Feng! You wait!"

Liu Wenjun's voice regained its composure, yet carried a sense of desperate determination.

Before Jiang Feng could react, she suddenly stood up, clutched the old newspaper package, and rushed out of the house like a gust of wind!

She needs to go to the dean's office! Now! Immediately! Right now!

She wanted to smash this thing Mingzhao had given her against Zhang Mingyuan's arrogant and dismissive face! Even if there was only a one in ten thousand chance, she would fight to win back this opportunity for Jiang Feng and for Mingzhao!

Liu Wenjun ran wildly, her heart pounding in her chest, almost shattering her ribs.

The cold doors of the research institute's main building closed behind her. Ignoring all the astonished looks, she rushed up the stairs, her destination clear: the dean's office!

"Bang!"

She didn't even knock; she just slammed open the heavy wooden door to the dean's office!

Zhang Mingyuan was sitting behind his large desk, leisurely sipping tea, a document in his hand. The loud slamming of the door made his hand tremble, splashing a few drops of scalding tea onto the document.

He looked up in shock and anger, and when he saw Liu Wenjun, who had returned, with disheveled hair, bloodshot eyes, a violently heaving chest, and a tattered newspaper bundle clutched tightly in her hand, his brows furrowed instantly!

"Liu Wenjun! Don't you have any manners? Who told you to..." Zhang Mingyuan slammed his hand on the table and stood up, shouting angrily.

"Dean Zhang!" Liu Wenjun's voice was louder than his, interrupting him directly.