Chapter 294 The Motherland Will Not Forget (Bug Fix): The Human Touch

Late May is still early summer. As soon as it gets dark and the river breeze blows, the sweltering heat of Wuhan during the day instantly weakens.

Well, or to be more precise, the stoves have shrunk their territory and all concentrated on the food stalls.

There are the silent, shriveled flames of coal stoves on the street, the roaring flames of gas stoves, and the soaring flames of diesel stoves in restaurants.

Over the fire, lotus root soup bubbled and steamed in a clay pot; barbecue sizzled on an iron rack; and fried stinky tofu was shrouded in mist in a deep fryer. Accompanied by the sounds of chopping pig ears and mincing duck necks, and illuminated by the high-mounted light bulbs, the scene was a picture of everyday life, requiring no paintbrush.

Wang Xiao wasn't there for the grime of everyday life. To be honest, the sanitation conditions on Jiqing Street in 1994 were truly appalling. If it weren't for the darkness, it would be unbearable to look at.

Wang Xiao didn't come looking for the real-life inspiration for Shuang Yang in "Life Show".

Given her age before time travel, the only reason she would remember this novel, which hadn't even been written in 1994, was because of the TV series and movie of the same name, which romanticized the characters.

Novels are so realistic.

Zhuo Xiongzhou had been coveting Shuangyang for over two years, but when it came to a real fight, he was all show and no substance. He was neither good-looking nor useful, and had to slink away from Jiqing Street.

Lai Shuangyang, that addicted gentleman, keeps relapsing and trying to ruin his older sister.

The adaptations in film and television works often force a romantic arc onto men, which, in Shuang Yang's words, would probably be described as a breakdown.

Wang Xiao is also quite devastated right now.

A greasy table surrounded her, Ivanov, Deputy Mayor Huang, Deputy Mayor Guo, and an unfamiliar face.

Their faces weren't exactly unfamiliar, after all, they had seen this old gentleman on the campus of the university when the sun set and the sky was ablaze with red clouds.

He participated in the 1978 automatic alignment lithography machine project.

He was also the only project participant that the school was able to contact in such a short period of time.

So when Mr. Zheng said he was going to Jiqing Street for a late-night snack, Wang Xiao immediately agreed to go with him without hesitation.

Now, the dishes have been served. They're quite cheap; a whole bunch of miscellaneous dishes, all laid out on a table, cost less than 100 yuan.

Wang Xiao wasn't heartbroken; she was just anxious, eager for the old man to speak and explain to them what the lithography machine was all about and what stage the project had reached.

Mr. Zheng ate two pieces of fried stinky tofu, slurped up a small dish of snails, and finally, while drinking lotus root soup, he slowly began to recount the history of domestically produced lithography machines.

Some of these things Wang Xiao knew, such as in 1965, when China successfully developed its first chip, only seven years later than the United States, in sync with Japan, and a full ten years earlier than South Korea.

There were some things Wang Xiao didn't know. For example, back then, the entire nation was mobilized to develop semiconductors. There was even an old lady who set up a diffusion furnace in a lane to develop semiconductors, and she was featured in the newspaper as a model for publicity.

But whether Wang Xiao knew or not was not what he wanted to know right now.

What she wants to know now is where the progress, or rather the standstill, of the lithography machine at South China University of Technology? And what should be done if it needs to be restarted?

After finishing the last sip of lotus root soup, Mr. Zheng shook his head: "No need to restart. I don't think restarting would make much sense."

Wang Xiao subconsciously said, "Things created by capitalism can indeed serve socialism. But some things can't be bought with money. I want to buy Sony's latest lithography machine, I want to buy an 8-inch production line, but they won't sell it to me. Even Shougang, is the 6-inch production line theirs? No, it's still owned by NEC."

The old man waved his hand: "No, I'm not saying that it's better to buy than to make. No one who does scientific research would say such a thing. I'm saying that we were on the wrong track before. We pursued electron beam lithography too much and neglected the iteration of optical lithography."

He looked up at Wang Xiao and said seriously, "It's rare to find someone willing to do this, I can't let you down. Don't believe their nonsense too much. When life is tough, people have to become devils. They're just fooling people."

The cheerful waiter brought out tender broad beans and salted peanuts as complimentary side dishes from the owner.

This is only because there are foreigners at the table who can't eat spicy food; otherwise, they would have just served chili oil.

Mr. Zheng peeled some salted peanuts and ate them slowly. “This is inevitable. We are too poor. We don’t have enough manpower, equipment, or funds. We can only use our resources wisely and focus our efforts on the most promising areas.”

He swallowed a chewed peanut, shook his head, and said, "But in scientific research, more people means more strength. The more you invest, the more directions you can make progress, and the greater the chance of success."

The customers at the next table called over a street performer, who played the guitar and sang: "When you're down on your luck, you can't help but complain; when you're down on your luck, you can't help but feel terrified—"

Applause and cheers filled the air.

Mr. Zheng suddenly shook his head and laughed: "Everyone says that we can make atomic bombs and satellites, so why can't we make lithography machines? It's different. We're just following behind others. Once you've made atomic bombs and hydrogen bombs, you don't need to upgrade them. But lithography machines need to be upgraded generation after generation. We have to keep chasing after others."

“But we have the Yu Min structure,” Wang Xiao suddenly spoke up. “We didn’t invent the hydrogen bomb, but now we are the only country in the world that can preserve hydrogen bombs.”

She has her own stubbornness: "Later, we may not necessarily be unable to surpass them."

The street performer sang at the end: "Three parts destiny, seven parts hard work; only those who dare to fight will win."

Whistling sounds rang out.

Mr. Zheng was taken aback and asked in surprise, "Who lied to you? Although our country has developed hydrogen bombs rapidly, the United States and Russia are among the countries in the world that possess hydrogen bombs."

Wang Xiao felt like she was going to become withdrawn.

Who? Who spread this rumor? She's so embarrassed!

Everyone at the table laughed, and Ivanov smiled blankly as well, then subconsciously looked for a translator.

What? Did they say something funny?

Wang Xiao immediately threatened, "Don't tell him!"

The translator had no choice but to reluctantly convey to the male boss that he was unable to help.

The latter was clearly very tolerant, simply shrugging his shoulders to indicate that he understood that women always have to save face.

Vice Mayor Huang laughed even harder.

As the leader in charge of industry in Xiaozhou, he naturally viewed issues from the perspective of Xiaozhou's industrial development.

Therefore, he was very satisfied with the blunder Wang Xiao had caused.

Although he couldn't understand why this girl had such a strange confidence in the level of technological development in China.

But right now, the whole society is burning with enthusiasm for going abroad, and young people are especially fond of Western civilization, with the momentum of abolishing Chinese characters as it was in the early years of the Republic of China.

Against this backdrop, her mysterious self-confidence is truly remarkable.

Why isn't favoritism a kind of power? To use a popular inspirational quote from around the world, it's like saying, "If you believe it exists, it will exist."

At the very least, they prefer products that make business owners willingly keep pouring money into them.

Even Mr. Zheng, who was not optimistic about domestically produced lithography machines, said that to do this, you need both people and money.

Now, at least they have one thing in common.

Vice Mayor Guo's life is nothing compared to his relaxed lifestyle.

As a city leader, he was able to put aside a mountain of work on a sweltering day and accompany guests on their travels, all in an effort to attract talent and successfully create a benchmark for the restructuring of an electronics factory.

As a result, he squeezed into the crowd, covered in oil and sweat, smelling the smoke and fire, and after struggling for a long time, the old man who was trying to be mysterious even poured a bucket of cold water on him.

Vice Mayor Guo was unwilling to give up the last hope, so he encouraged the old man: "Then keep going! You have a solid foundation, so you can get back on track quickly. Maybe you'll make a breakthrough in less than two years."

Mr. Zheng chuckled, picked up the duck neck again, and shook his head, saying, "Developing technology is like disassembling bones; you have to find the right joints. The mayor's mindset can't solve market problems. That's the leader's idea—launching campaigns. We've done that countless times; it's all meaningless."

He removed the meat from the duck's neck, saying, "Technology and processes are intertwined and move forward together. Without an engineering application environment, even if your equipment is launched into space, it will not have the opportunity to be improved through practical experience. Without practical experience, there is no point in talking about improving technical levels."

Vice Mayor Guo wanted to continue his efforts, but Mr. Zheng simply shook his head.

Later, he simply turned his head away, staring at the band next to him, and started eating his stinky tofu again, dipping it in chili sauce.

This left Vice Mayor Guo speechless.

That's how highly learned people are; their mouths are like clam shells, each one more difficult to speak to than the last.

Wang Xiao raised his hand and called out to the band.

On Jiqing Street, you can have a band play for you privately for just five yuan.

Do you know "The Motherland Will Not Forget"? If so, sing it for us.

The lead musician looked bewildered. What was this "The Motherland Will Not Forget"? He'd never heard of it.

When Wang Xiao explained that it was similar to military songs, he enthusiastically recommended "Returning from Target Practice," "Quietly Over Weishan Lake," and "For Whom," but Wang Xiao kept shaking his head.

With no other option, she had to sing herself, trying to evoke memories for the band.

"In the vast sea of ​​people, which one am I? In the surging waves, which one am I? I dedicate my youth to the rivers of my motherland. My motherland will not forget me, will not forget me."

She knows this song very well. As a major internet celebrity, she sang it countless times before she time-traveled to gain followers. This song is incredibly popular; it belongs to the category of classic old songs that have become popular again.

She sang it from beginning to end, but the band members were still clueless, quite certain they had never heard it before.

Even the accordion player next to them chimed in with a sarcastic remark about the band: "Never heard of them before! Hey, boss—"

He smiled at Wang Xiao and said, "Sing it again, and I'll accompany you. It's such a great song."

He just saw Ivanov and came over very enthusiastically to promote himself, wanting to perform "Moscow Nights".

But everyone was busy listening to Mr. Zheng talk and didn't have time to listen to him play the accordion.

Now, Wang Xiao took out five yuan and boldly summoned the accordion: "Okay, you play the accordion."

Then she cleared her throat and sang it again earnestly. After singing the last line, she turned her head and looked at Mr. Zheng solemnly: "It's not meaningless. The motherland will not forget, just as the sea will not forget every wave. The motherland will not forget everyone's efforts for her."

Upon hearing this, Mr. Zheng choked on the chili sauce in his mouth, his eyes turning red and tears streaming down his face.

Even the waiter came over to bring him mung bean soup so he could drink it and soothe his throat.

His cough was so loud it shook the earth, and the noise was so great that many people came to look.

Although the environment on Jiqing Street is terrible, the worse it is, the more attractive it becomes, and people from all walks of life come here for late-night snacks.

Among them was someone with a keen eye for talent. He recognized Vice Mayor Guo at a glance, and, holding a beer glass, took the initiative to come over with a smile and said jokingly, "Oh my, Mayor Guo, you're personally leading the team today!"

His voice was booming, and it drowned out Mr. Zheng's cough.

In an instant, the entire Jiqing Street seemed to be paused, everyone froze, and even the flames licking the bottom of the pot shrank in the wind.

Then, a loud shout rang out from somewhere: "Run! The government is coming to arrest us!"

Wang Xiao stared in disbelief at the woman squatting on the ground polishing shoes for a customer; the accordion player who had just been playing for her had vanished in an instant.

Tables and chairs were overturned on the street, and someone was carrying loads and running desperately.

When she turned around again, the chef, dressed in a greasy white robe, was actually squeezing out through the narrow ventilation opening, clearly preparing to make his escape.

Ivanov had never seen anything like this before. His neck was almost twisted into a pretzel. He only wished he wasn't a thousand-eyed monster who could see all aspects of human life at once.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" he asked Wang Xiao, bewildered and anxious.

The latter looked utterly bewildered.

How could she explain this? She could explain that China's night markets flourished through repeated crackdowns.

The government cannot ignore it, because the night market, with its terrible environment and traffic congestion, will have a huge impact on the lives of the surrounding residents.

The stall owners can't just not do business; everyone depends on this for a living. If the night market isn't allowed to open, they'll starve.

Then it became a game of cat and mouse.

People on the street were already cursing: "Damn it! Which bastard is talking nonsense?"

The officials who came over with their wine glasses to greet Vice Mayor Guo were scratching their heads, chuckling awkwardly, "What's going on? One by one."

Oh my, he's acting so convincingly, as if he doesn't even know he's the one who caused this blunder.

The tables and chairs that had fallen outside had been put back on their original positions, and the fleeing shoeshine master had returned with his tools to continue shining shoes for the customers.

Others laughed at her for not being afraid of being scammed, but she insisted, "I believe in loyalty in business. How can I clean one shoe and then abandon the other?"

The clever accordion player didn't return. Probably because the accordion was quite valuable, unlike the shoeshine lady's stool and rag, which could be lost easily. He didn't dare to take the risk.

The person who was left in the most difficult situation was the cook. He was stuck in the narrow ventilation shaft, unable to get out or back, and he kept uttering a string of authentic Wuhan curses.

The onlookers watched the spectacle while offering him all sorts of ridiculous and bad advice, and some even nagged him, urging, "Hurry up, hurry up, stir-fry the pork kidneys!"

Then came another barrage of insults.

Vice Mayor Guo kept shaking his head, feeling truly ashamed to face anyone.

Vice Mayor Huang smiled and said, "How wonderful! Wuhan looks like a vibrant city."

After listening to the translation, Ivanov wholeheartedly agreed. He couldn't feel this vibrant vitality in Moscow or the Russian Federation.

At this moment, he no longer felt the sweltering heat of Wuhan's summer.

Only a stove like this can keep burning brightly no matter what happens.

Vice Mayor Guo, realizing he couldn't handle this mutual flattery, waved his hand and asked for everyone's opinion: "So, what's next?"

He didn't want to stay any longer; his presence was just causing trouble for Jiqing Street.

Mr. Zheng took out a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his mouth, and thanked him with a smile: "Thank you for the hospitality."

Wang Xiao offered, "Teacher Zheng, let us take you home."

Upon hearing this, Vice Mayor Guo was secretly delighted, feeling that there was still hope.

The fact that they didn't part ways at the night market stall and go their separate ways means that Mr. Wang hasn't given up yet.

However, on the way to the university, Wang Xiao didn't mention the lithography machine at all, and just looked at the night view of Wuhan outside the window.

She wasn't playing hard to get; she genuinely didn't intend to win over Mr. Zheng.

The reason is very simple: the cost-effectiveness is too low.

Mr. Zheng's skills have become obsolete, and starting over doesn't necessarily mean he can do better than others.

He is not irreplaceable.

So why did Wang Xiao insist on sending him back to school?

The reason is the same as when she couldn't find a band to play for her, and even had to find accompaniment herself to sing "The Motherland Will Not Forget": The motherland will not forget, and the people will not forget.

We pay tribute to Mr. Zheng and the older generation of scientific researchers he represents, and to their contributions and efforts.

Their spirit of self-reliance and exploration is something that should always be inherited and carried forward.

Sigh, nine-headed birds in the sky, Hubei people on the ground. How shrewd the people of Wuhan are!

Only then did Boss Wang belatedly realize that the guy playing the accordion didn't actually know "The Motherland Will Not Forget." He was just clever and learned it on the spot.

That's why he asked Wang Xiao to sing.

When the car arrived at the university, Mr. Zheng gestured for them to get out, waving goodbye and saying, "Thank you, this is enough for me."

He probably wanted to keep a low profile, but some students who were strolling and chatting on campus recognized him and came up to greet him: "Professor Zheng, can you tell us? Is it really true that job placement is no longer guaranteed?"

The car door closed, and the car started again.

Vice Mayor Guo said with great regret, "It seems we haven't succeeded in building our nest, and we won't be able to attract any golden phoenixes. It's really worrying."

Wang Xiao laughed: "What's there to worry about in Wuhan? Wuhan is a big city, so there's no need to worry about its development."

Vice Mayor Huang echoed her words: "That's right, Wuhan is a city of great rivers and mountains, and it's full of vitality."

Vice Mayor Guo shook his head, his face full of unspeakable sorrow: "Don't try to comfort me, the older you get, the heavier the burden becomes."

When he spoke, his shoulders slumped, as if he were carrying a mountain.

Looking out the window at the Guishan TV Tower, Wang Xiao smiled and said, "That's the truth. Wuhan won't fare any worse, and neither will Xiaozhou, because talent is constantly pouring in. Even if they don't have the conditions they want, talented people will create them themselves."

The night sky was clear, dotted with stars, and the asphalt road gleamed with a bluish-gray light under the streetlights. The clock tower struck on the hour, its sound echoing across the river.

Vice Mayor Guo became interested: "If they don't even have the conditions they want, why are talented people still flocking here?"

Pretty words may sound nice, but they don't make sense logically.

Wang Xiao smiled, her eyes crinkling: "Because it's a big city, Wuhan is a big city. This year, the country started to unify the enrollment system, and university graduates will no longer be guaranteed job placement. University students will definitely want to develop in big cities, and talents will flock to big cities to find jobs like a tide. How could Wuhan never have any talent?"

Vice Mayor Guo frowned slightly: "If the work isn't done well, you won't be able to retain people; they'll leave."

The sycamore trees outside the window were filtered by the streetlights, casting dappled shadows on the car window. Everyone's face inside the car was also dotted with freckles or blemishes.

Wang Xiao, his face covered in dark spots, smiled and said, "No, they won't leave easily. They care about their reputation; they can only return home in glory, and they have to leave when they're down on their luck. Otherwise, they can't face their fellow villagers who think they're doing well in the big city."

She sighed softly, "So even if they're unhappy with their jobs in big cities, they can start their own businesses if they can't make it. As long as they can stay, that's good. Wealth is created by people. Talented people are always full of endless creativity. Big cities like Wuhan, at least until talent flows around the country and becomes the mainstream, don't have to worry about it."

Vice Mayor Guo laughed: "We really have to thank the national policy for giving us a few more years to find another opportunity."

Vice Mayor Huang laughed along, "Thanks to the national policy, at least they left us with people after taking the money."

Looking at the crescent moon outside the window, Wang Xiao thought to himself, "The crescent moon shines over the nine provinces, bringing joy to some and sorrow to others."

Big cities have no shortage of talent, but small and medium-sized cities and remote areas are doomed.

In the past, state-owned factories and mines located in small and medium-sized cities could rely on mandatory state allocation to ensure the development of their core technical teams.

In the future, a talent gap will inevitably become a reality.

The gap between rich and poor regions will widen further, with large cities truly draining the lifeblood of small and medium-sized cities.

But what is poison to one is honey to another. The government's abolition of job assignments for college graduates is a good thing for businessmen like Wang Xiao.

This means that a large number of talented people, whether willingly or reluctantly, will voluntarily work for private bosses.

She will have more options for building her talent pipeline.

The car arrived at the hotel. Ivanov stood at the entrance, looking at the old buildings from the Republican era outside, and suddenly sighed, "This is also quite interesting."

They traveled a long way, only to find it all for nothing.

But looking back, he didn't feel that the day had been wasted.

People riding bikes and eating hot dry noodles on the street are quite amusing, as are the singers, violinists, and acrobats performing in the chaotic night market.

Life is rarely interesting.

Wang Xiao smiled and patted his shoulder: "Let's go, let's go, get some rest, we're going back tomorrow."

Back in her room, while showering and drying her hair, she was still pondering which direction to take next for the lithography machine.

The hotel phone rang; it was Zhang Junfei calling from Shanghai.

He has made countless phone calls since this afternoon.

The leaders of the Pudong Science and Technology Park Development Zone came to us, wanting to discuss whether we could allocate some land.

According to national planning, a semiconductor equipment project wanted to be located in Pudong, but the land has already been almost fully allocated.

Therefore, the leaders can only humble themselves and ask the people who have already acquired the land for their opinions, to see if they can allocate some land to others.

Upon hearing this, Wang Xiao's eyes lit up.

Oh my god! This is like a godsend! A semiconductor project... what exactly is it? Does it have anything to do with lithography machines?

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Note: "The Motherland Will Not Forget" was released in 2001, so it's normal that the artists at the time didn't know how to sing it. [Let me see] After breakfast, I'm going to visit the graves.