Chapter 175

Unlike other young people who only talk the talk, Liu Guangqi exudes a composure and certainty beyond his years. It's as if any difficulty, no matter how great, can be easily resolved with just a simple "No problem." Who wouldn't hope that China could produce more young people like him?

Inside the meeting room, the atmosphere gradually warmed up. Several leaders of the academy committee even instructed their assistants to arrange their schedules on the spot, eager to rush to the Institute of Computing Technology to see the second-generation transistor computer with their own eyes. However, the schedule handed to them by their secretaries forced them to temporarily suppress this impulse. With National Day approaching, everyone's schedule was already packed to the brim, especially the main leaders of the academy committee—the densely packed items on their notebooks almost filled all their time, leaving very little time for rest. He stared at the notebook, his brows gradually furrowing, and finally he could only sigh softly.

"It seems I can't go." The regret in his voice was unmistakable.

But he immediately looked up, a different light flashing in his eyes: "Even though we can't go, this good news can't be kept secret." He turned to his secretary, his voice rising abruptly, carrying an unyielding decisiveness:

"Notify the radio stations and the *Minzhong Daily*. On National Day, I want the entire nation to hear this news—the front page headline will read: 'Our China has its own second-generation computer!'"

The secretary jotted down notes rapidly, her palms sweating with excitement. The leader picked up the report again, his palm gently tracing the cover, as if he could feel the warmth of the machine. He turned to Professor Lu Hai, a satisfied smile spreading across his face:

"Comrade Lu Hai, go back and tell all the researchers at the Institute of Computing Technology that the Academy Committee remembers their contributions. We will hold a special commendation meeting after the National Day holiday, and I will preside over it."

"I will definitely deliver it! I will definitely deliver the message!" Professor Lu Hai stood up abruptly, nodding repeatedly, his eyes slightly warm.

Stepping out of the institute's administrative building, the afternoon sun was warm, and the sky was a clear, deep blue. Professor Lu Hai walked briskly, as if he could already hear the thunderous cheers erupting across the country when the news came over the radio on National Day. This was not only the glory of the Institute of Computing Technology, but also the pride of the entire nation.

Time flies, and it's already National Day.

On October 1st, the autumn sky was clear and the air was crisp, with red flags fluttering in the breeze. As arranged by higher authorities, factories and government offices across the country were given a two-day holiday—a rare respite in this era of planned production. The streets of Beijing were bustling with people, everyone's face beaming with joy, and the air thick with festive cheer.

No one knew that an unexpected gift was waiting to add the most significant touch to this special day.

At exactly 10:00 a.m., the cheerful music suddenly stopped playing on radios in every household and on loudspeakers throughout the streets and alleys. Pedestrians stopped and looked up to listen.

Immediately afterwards, the announcer's clear and powerful voice pierced through the airwaves, spreading throughout the country:

"my country's second-generation transistor computer, independently developed by the Chinese government, has recently been successfully completed! This is a major breakthrough in my country's computer field and a significant gift from all researchers to the motherland!"

The news was like a boulder thrown into a calm lake. The street fell silent for a few seconds, then erupted into a deafening roar of voices.

An elderly man carrying a shopping basket didn't understand and shouted to the person next to him, "What? A calculating chicken? Our country has developed a new breed of chicken? But is one chicken really a major breakthrough?"

Those around him were taken aback for a moment, then burst into laughter. The young student wearing glasses next to him quickly waved his hand, his face flushed with laughter: "Grandpa, it's 'computer,' the 'machine' in 'machine'! Not 'chicken'!"

"A machine? What kind of machine is so powerful that it can even be broadcast on the radio?" The old man was still clueless, blinking in confusion.

October was crisp and refreshing, and with a two-day holiday for National Day, Liu Guangqi naturally wouldn't stay cooped up indoors. At the crack of dawn, he took Zhao Mengyun back to the old courtyard in the alley.

It's a rare moment of free time, so I'll spend some time having fun with the kids.

In the Yi family compound of the Intermediate People's Court, Yi Zhonghai was sipping tea from an enamel mug when the news suddenly came over the loudspeaker that "the second-generation transistor computer has been successfully developed." His hand trembled, and the bottom of the mug clattered onto the stone table. He quickly leaned over the Red Lantern brand radio and turned the knob a little more.

"A computer we built ourselves?" he murmured.

It wasn't just him. Several households in the courtyard had their radios on, the sound drifting from different windows, creating a cacophony of background noise. Neighbors without radios simply moved small stools and sat on the thresholds of those with radios, straining their ears to listen carefully.

The entire alley suddenly fell silent, with only the clear and resonant voice of the announcer from the radio reverberating in the air.

"This is an incredible machine!" Uncle Yan Bugui pushed up his reading glasses that had slipped down to the tip of his nose, muttered to himself as he counted on his fingers, as if he were assessing the value of the thing.

In the backyard of the Liu family's house, Liu Haizhong, who always prided himself on his interest in current affairs, listened with great enthusiasm. He turned to his second aunt, who was sitting by the window sewing shoe soles, and shouted, "Did you hear that? The country has developed a second-generation computing chicken!"

His expression revealed a sense of smugness, as if this "calculating chicken" would be on the shelves of the supply and marketing cooperative tomorrow, and he would definitely be the first to buy it.

"A chicken that can count!" he clicked his tongue. "Much better than our hens that only lay eggs!"

Auntie Er was taken aback by his shout. "Husband, what kind of chicken can do math?" A rooster immediately popped into her mind, strutting around, pecking at rice and drawing arithmetic lines on the ground. "Good heavens, is there really such a chicken?"

"How could it be fake? It clearly stated on the radio that they are second-generation, newly bred computational chickens!"

Liu Guangqi was playing with the children when he overheard his parents' conversation. He just shook his head and smiled, not saying anything. Zhao Mengyun secretly pinched his arm, suppressing a laugh.

These words were overheard by Liu Guangfu, who had just run in from outside. He was still in vocational school, and his teacher had mentioned new terms a couple of times in class, so he wasn't unfamiliar with "computers."

"Pfft—" Liu Guangfu couldn't hold back and doubled over laughing. "Dad! Mom! It's the 'machine' in 'computer,' not the 'chicken' in 'poultry'!"

He laughed so hard he pounded his knees, gesturing as he explained, "That's an arithmetic machine! It's faster than hundreds of abacuses put together! It's amazing, and it can be incredibly useful!"

"Alright!" Liu Haizhong's old face flushed with embarrassment, his earlier smugness completely gone. He stubbornly tried to salvage the situation, saying, "How could your dad not know it's a machine? I was just trying to amuse your mom and lighten the mood!"

The second auntie also came to her senses, her face flushed. She raised her hand and slapped Liu Guangfu on the back: "You little rascal, why didn't you say so earlier! You scared me half to death, I thought you'd really come up with some new breed of chicken!"

Seeing his parents' expressions, Liu Guangfu laughed even more heartily.

At this moment, Liu Guangtian, who had been silent all along, suddenly spoke. A faint smile appeared in his eyes.

The autumn sunlight filtered through the old locust tree in the courtyard, casting dappled golden light. Liu Guangtian fiddled with the transistor radio in his hand, then suddenly looked up, his gaze passing over the playful children and landing on his older brother, who was bending down to tease his son.

"Speaking of precision machinery—" he deliberately drew out his words, "like the CNC project my brother participated in a few years ago, what crucial part couldn't be done without computer scheduling?"

The laughter and conversation in the courtyard gradually subsided.

Liu Guangtian cleared his throat, his voice as clear as raindrops falling on a bluestone slab:

"Brother, if I remember correctly, you are not only an academician of the Chinese Academy of Sciences, but also the chief editor of a monograph on computer theory."

He paused, his eyes filled with inquiry:

"Is this announcement of the second-generation computer... related to your work?"

The moment the words left his mouth, Liu Haizhong's teacup wobbled slightly. He and his wife exchanged a glance, their previous awkwardness vanishing instantly, replaced by an almost breathless astonishment. Four pairs of eyes were fixed on their eldest son.

"Guangqi..." Liu Haizhong's voice was a little dry, "Is what the second brother said true?"

Liu Guangqi straightened up and patted off non-existent dust from his trousers. He didn't answer immediately, but a very faint smile appeared on his lips, a smile that held a meaning that was difficult for others to decipher.

"Dad, Mom," he said, his tone steady yet carrying a heavy weight, "there are some things that involve discipline, and I can't go into the details. You just need to remember that the success of the second-generation computer is a landmark achievement for our country, and that's enough."

He did not deny it.

The word "discipline" stood like an invisible boundary marker, suddenly erected before Liu Haizhong. The old man paused for a moment, then exchanged a glance with his second son—they both knew Liu Guangqi's temperament all too well. If it truly had nothing to do with him, he would have easily distanced himself rather than giving such a subtle yet serious reminder.

Liu Guangqi had already taken his wife Zhao Mengyun's hand and waved to the two children. "Let's go, take advantage of the nice weather and go for a walk." Before leaving, he glanced back at his father and younger brother, lowering his voice, "Just keep this to yourself, don't discuss it or ask around."

"clear."

"rest assured."

Liu Haizhong and Liu Guangtian quickly responded, a surge of emotion welling up inside them. Having worked in the factory themselves, they were quick-witted enough to guess what was going on. Only Liu Guangfu and his mother remained bewildered, observing the unspoken understanding flowing between the group.

Stepping out of the backyard, the sounds from the front yard immediately hit me. On National Day, the courtyard house was like a boiling pot. Yi Zhonghai's old radio had been moved to the yard, and the men crowded around it, craning their necks, their buzzing discussions mingling together as they repeatedly chewed on that new and mysterious term—"second-generation computer."

"Hey! Guangqi!" Shazhu's loud voice always cut through the crowd. He grinned and pushed his way through the throng. "Taking the kid out? Coming back tonight? If you are, I'll cook up a few of my signature dishes, and we'll make sure this holiday is truly memorable!"

Liu Guangqi smiled and waved his hand: "The streets will definitely be lively. Once we go out, we might play until dark, who knows?"

Just then, Yan Bugui also came over with a smile: "Guangqi, you've come at the perfect time! Everyone's been racking their brains over computers, and nobody seems to know where to begin. You're one of the top students in our department, why don't you enlighten us? Let us broaden our horizons!"

In an instant, dozens of curious eyes turned to them.

Liu Guangqi simply smiled gently, a smile that perfectly deflected further questioning: "Third Uncle, you've really put me in a difficult position. Everyone's in high spirits today, so listening to the radio is the proper thing to do. I can't spoil their conversation."

He exchanged a few pleasantries, then, holding his wife's hand with one hand and protecting his two children with the other, he walked towards the gate as the neighbors watched with smiles. Behind him, the speculation and amazement about the computer surged up again like a tide.

As Liu Guangqi stepped out of the courtyard house, two young men in casual clothes, standing upright, followed discreetly from a short distance away. Liu Guangqi whispered a few words of advice, then led his family into the waiting car.

The vehicle turned and headed towards the designated location.

Even on his days off, Liu Guangqi is always accompanied by people. Wherever he goes, he is protected by dedicated guards in shifts to ensure his safety at all times.

Today, Liu Guangqi's status in the scientific research field, whether in terms of ministries or higher-level academic institutions, is no less than that of those academic giants who have made outstanding contributions.

Naturally, the secrecy level of the second-generation computer was not as strict as outsiders speculated—since the higher-ups had already announced this achievement to the entire nation via broadcast, it was a sign of calm confidence, and there was no need to deliberately conceal it.

However, the ripples caused by Liu Guangqi over the years have been far too significant. From Chuanghui Electric Appliances to CNC machine tools, and now to the second generation of computers, his name has long been on the watch lists of many national intelligence agencies. In the archives of Japan and even Western countries, the files about him are probably already piled up to several feet high.

Even if he wanted to remain anonymous by then, it was too late. In fact, researchers in this era, unless they started behind the scenes from the beginning, found it difficult to hide their tracks, and Liu Guangqi was no exception. He rarely talked about himself at the research institute, simply for the sake of peace and quiet, not wanting to appear too special among his neighbors and cause unnecessary trouble.

The two-day National Day holiday passed by in a flash amidst the festive atmosphere of autumn.