Chapter 222
This made things quite lively. The two girls who had been holding the rubber band immediately let go, grabbed their friends, and swarmed around, their cheerful greetings echoing throughout.
"Hello, Uncle Liu!"
"My dad always says you're the most amazing person in the institute! He says you're worth an entire research institute by yourself!" The girl in the lead looked up, her eyes shining.
Another girl nodded eagerly, "Yes, yes! My mom said that the new rice cooker we bought was made by you, and it's so convenient to use!"
"And my washing machine!"
"My brother said that after he graduates, he also wants to join a ministry and learn from Uncle Liu!"
In the blink of an eye, Liu Guangqi was surrounded by a group of little girls, with "My dad said" and "My mom said" floating in her ears, making her smile a little. Before Ruixue could understand what was happening, the girl with braided pigtails had already warmly grabbed her hand.
"Come on, little sister, we'll teach you how to jump rope!"
She deftly looped one end of the rubber band around Ruixue's ankle: "You just stand here and support us. Watch how we jump. It's super easy; you'll get the hang of it in no time!"
Ruixue was taken aback by this sudden closeness and glanced at her father discreetly. Seeing Liu Guangqi nod at her with a smile, she timidly tightened her grip on the rubber band.
Fengnian, left standing to the side, was completely stunned. He looked up at his father, who was surrounded by the children, and then at his sister, who had been pulled into the circle. He was a little bewildered. He had thought he would have to work hard to get his sister to join the game, but it turned out she didn't need him at all. After all that, he was still benefiting from his father's help.
The little guy suddenly realized that his serious "negotiation" just now was really unnecessary.
A joyful atmosphere gradually spread across the open space in front of the building. Ruixue was initially a little reserved, standing out as unusually quiet among the girls. She stood on tiptoe, carefully rising and falling, afraid of making a mistake and being laughed at. But the game of hopscotch seemed to have a natural magic; after only a few rounds, beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, her cheeks were flushed, and her footwork gradually became lighter and more agile as she finally relaxed.
Fengnian, however, showed no interest in these kinds of girly games. He stood to the side with his hands behind his back, his little head bobbing up and down to the rhythm of the nursery rhyme, muttering along as well. The tune he hummed was completely off-key, not a single word in tune, yet he was remarkably serious and earnest. Strangely enough, the boy had a good memory; before long, he had memorized the nursery rhyme "Malan Blossoms" perfectly.
Liu Guangqi stood a few steps away in the shade of a tree, quietly watching this scene, his eyes softening. He didn't say a word, only letting his children gradually blend into the group of children in the compound, immersed in that simple and bright joy. To him, this was what childhood should be like—free, carefree, and without worries.
"Two five six, two five seven, two eight two nine thirty-one!"
The clear nursery rhymes echoed in the open space, and colorful rubber bands bounced and flew with each lively step. Occasionally, parents leading their children would slow down and glance at this bustling corner.
"Director Liu, your two children are so bright and charming!"
"Yes, the boy is sturdy and cute, and the girl is gentle and well-behaved. They look like they are blessed."
A familiar cadre approached with a smile, pointed to the girl leading the group in the center, and said to Liu Guangqi:
"Comrade Guangqi, my daughter talks about you all the time at home, saying you're a technical hero. Look how happy she is to be playing with your child today."
Under the shade of the tree, Liu Guangqi's gaze followed the two small figures. Director Zeng from the General Affairs Department had just exchanged a few pleasantries with him with a smile—the little girl leading the singing was his daughter. His words, though revealing paternal pride, couldn't hide his undisguised closeness and admiration for Liu Guangqi. "My little girl is overjoyed," Liu Guangqi simply nodded slightly in polite response. His entire attention was already focused on the children playing in the open space. This respect, born from him, now manifested as pure laughter, gently rippling in the evening breeze.
The setting sun cast dappled light through the branches and leaves, illuminating his straight shoulders. This was the scene Zhao Mengyun saw when she emerged from the apartment building. Following her husband's gaze, she saw Ruixue and Fengnian chasing after a group of children, their clear laughter ringing out like bells. Her heart softened, and she quietly approached, gently tugging at Liu Guangqi's sleeve. "I thought you'd taken them somewhere... Turns out they're just having so much fun." Liu Guangqi snapped out of his reverie, took his wife's hand, and a gentle smile spread across his eyes. "It's rare to see them so happy, let them play a little longer." Zhao Mengyun fell silent, and the two stood side by side, quietly watching the open space gradually bathed in golden light.
Only after the other children had gradually dispersed did Zhao Mengyun raise her voice and call out, "Ruixue, Fengnian, it's time to go home for dinner!" The two little ones, who had been running around wildly, immediately wilted upon hearing their mother's voice. Ruixue waved reluctantly to her newly made friends, while Fengnian puffed out her little chest and loudly declared, "I'll bring my sister again tomorrow!" The other girls who hadn't gone far laughed and echoed, "Okay!"
On the way back, Fengnian looked up with her rosy cheeks and earnestly reported, "Mom! We learned a new song today, it's so nice!" "Really?" Zhao Mengyun replied softly. The next moment, the children's singing voices rang out in the corridor—one clear as a stream, the other off-key and confidently sung, strangely intertwining into the most vivid melody of the evening.
It's unclear when exactly, but the nursery rhyme about the Malan flower has quietly permeated the streets and alleys of Beijing. As if overnight, young and old alike could hum a few lines of its melodious tune. Because of this, aside from a few researchers well-informed about the details, almost no one would connect this catchy rhyme with the silent national treasure deep in the remote Gobi Desert. Of course, this was never a secret to Liu Guangqi.
As dawn broke, he stepped into the ministry compound, once again burying himself in the blueprints and data of medium-scale integrated circuits. With his current knowledge and vision, accessing this technology wasn't out of the question—but that was ultimately a prospect for ten years from now. More challenging was the fact that even with ingenuity and talent, it was difficult to create something from nothing. Not to mention in China, even the most advanced laboratories in the West had only just begun to grasp the basics. There were no mature components available for reference on the international market. The only path was to find alternative solutions from scratch, using only his own hands.
However, could the alternative materials support the intricate design? Could the subsequent processes keep pace with the design? These hurdles, like silent mountains, loomed over every blueprint. He knew that there were no shortcuts on this journey; only time and dedication could serve as stepping stones, allowing him to trek forward step by step.
Monday morning meeting was unusually cheerful in the Research Department. Everyone's face held a hint of barely suppressed anticipation—Director Zhang from the Personnel Department was present, holding the official document signed by the highest-ranking leader of the ministry. "Comrades," Director Zhang's voice boomed, his gaze sweeping over every face at the table, "after deliberation by higher authorities, the Research Department of the First Ministry of Machine Building is hereby awarded a promotion!"
As soon as he finished speaking, a low but enthusiastic cheer suddenly erupted in the room, and applause surged up like a tidal wave.
The air in the office froze for a moment, then exploded open.
Director Zhang's voice still echoed in the rafters as he announced the decision: "All comrades who participated in the nine-axis CNC machine tool and automated production line projects will have their technical titles upgraded by one level."
It was like pouring cold water into a hot oil pan.
"Upgraded by one level? Lao Li, pinch me right now—did I mishear?" Someone suddenly grabbed the arm of their colleague next to them.
"No problem, no problem! I've been promoted too, haven't I? From now on, I'm a proper level 10 technician!" The man called Old Li grinned, rubbing his palms together on his trouser seams.
Before the uproar subsided, Director Zhang raised his hand again.
After the uproar subsided, he slowly added the second half of the sentence: "Given the strategic value of these two achievements to the industrial system, the administrative rank of all participants will also be promoted by one level."
This time, you couldn't even hear the sound of breathing.
After a brief silence, a roaring clamor erupted, nearly lifting the roof off. Technical titles are the essential skills for a job, while administrative rank represents real status and influence. To be promoted in both simultaneously—such a precedent is unparalleled in the last few decades.
How could anyone not be surprised? Even Director Zhang almost dropped his pen when he first heard about the decision.
But on second thought, it seems that this is the proper way.
This year, the research department has delivered outstanding results. A nine-axis machine tool has emerged, automated production lines have been successfully implemented, and the entire department has earned a prestigious reputation with the higher-level institutes. Such a team deserves such recognition.
"Who told us to do well this year?" someone in the crowd shouted with a laugh, but their eyes were red.
Countless gazes silently turned to the front of the formation, landing on that slender, upright figure. Everyone understood who truly deserved this string of weighty achievements.
Director Zhang's gaze finally swept over the crowd and landed on Liu Guangqi's face. His gaze held a mixture of admiration and a deeper, unspoken meaning.
"As for Comrade Guangqi—" He paused deliberately.
Everyone's hearts jumped into their throats.
"His situation is rather special." Director Zhang's tone became subtle. "The ministry's leadership team needs to conduct a special study on this matter, and the commendation plan will not be announced here for the time being."
The moment the words left his mouth, the gazes directed at Liu Guangqi changed completely. The envy faded, replaced by a burning, almost reverential admiration.
Does the leadership team need to hold a special meeting to make a decision? That means that ordinary promotions and awards are no longer sufficient to measure his worth.
---
At the same moment, in the deepest part of the leader's conference room.
The long mahogany table was bathed in the light of the overhead lamp, and the air was filled with the rich aroma of aged Pu'er tea and the smoky scent of cigarettes. Around the table sat eight vice ministers and several assistant ministers—all members of the core decision-making body of the ministry. Ordinary bureau-level officials didn't even have the privilege of stepping through this door.
Today, after several reorganizations, the department has a staff of over two thousand, and its leadership structure is also quite large. There are as many as eight vice ministers alone, not to mention the ministerial assistants who, although nominally "assistants," actually enjoy the treatment of a department-level official and participate in core decision-making.
Before the meeting even started, each person had a white porcelain cup and a thin document containing the agenda placed in front of them.
The main character in the material has only one name: Liu Guangqi.
His achievements are densely listed between the pages: breakthroughs in nine-axis machine tools, the creation of automated production lines, two trips to the Northwest nuclear base for technical support, and key optimizations of the national heavy equipment computing system...
The minister in the main seat tapped the table with his fingers.
"We'll only discuss one thing today," he said, his voice low but instantly silencing the room. "The issue of commendation for Comrade Liu Guangqi, the head of the research department. Everyone, please review the materials and express your opinion."
His gaze swept across the entire room, and every eye caught that weight.
"Comrade Liu Guangqi's contributions are listed in greater detail in the materials than I have described. The nine-axis machine tool and automated production line have dramatically increased our industrial efficiency; his two trips to the Northwest have further laid the foundation for the nation's key industries." The minister picked up his teacup, then put it down again. "The other day, the main leaders of the Academy visited and specifically commended Comrade Liu Guangqi. The implication of this is—"
He paused, letting each word sink in.
"I don't need to say anything more, do I?"
The air in the meeting room seemed to freeze for a moment, then rippled slightly. The author's resounding words still echoed faintly above the table—the merits were clearly there, and rewarding them was inevitable; using youth or seniority as an excuse would hardly convince the public.
What are your opinions?
After the questioning, silence fell again around the long table. Several vice ministers lowered their eyes to review the achievement materials in front of them. When their fingertips swept over the words "Level 4 Engineer, Administrative Rank 10**", their expressions became particularly focused, and they fell into deep thought.
No one can deny Liu Guangqi's abilities and contributions; everyone present is well aware of this. However, government ministries have their own unique ecosystem. While seniority isn't always the primary criterion, leadership positions are ultimately limited, like fixed squares on a chessboard. To fill a vacancy, one must wait for a suitable opening. Forcibly promoting someone without a proper position inevitably invites controversy, which is precisely the root of everyone's previous hesitation—where to place him? Where are there readily available vacancies? A deputy director-level position can't simply be created out of thin air.