As Mr. Zhang was bragging to his old colleagues from Shenfei, a young engineer next to him suddenly nudged his arm and exclaimed excitedly, "Mr. Zhang! Have you heard? Amerikan's F-22 has landed on the runway outside! Right there at the airshow! Come and see!"
Mr. Zhang's eyes lit up instantly.
The F-22! That's the world's first fifth-generation stealth fighter, a prized possession that the United States military has kept under wraps for over a decade. Not to mention the actual aircraft, there aren't many close-up, high-resolution images of it circulating in China.
"Let's go! Let's all go take a look!"
With a wave of his hand, a group of people jumped up and rushed out of the exhibition hall.
As we passed the DYB Warhammer Arms Industry booth, the group suddenly stopped.
The huge booth remained empty, with only Li Jianguo standing in the center with his hands behind his back. He had changed into a well-fitting custom-made suit, looking completely different from the old engineer who had been browsing the exhibition in a jacket that morning.
Mr. Zhang stopped and made a special detour to greet him warmly, "Old Li, still guarding your empty booth? The F-..."
"The actual 22-inch models are here, aren't you going to go and see them?"
Mr. Zhang thought that Li Jianguo would change the subject, and that he would become angry or even Fury.
But Mr. Zhang noticed a complex look in Li Jianguo's eyes—as if he were looking at someone mentally challenged?!
"No need, I'm not interested in the F-22," Li Jianguo said.
"Keep pretending, keep pretending." Boss Zhang curled his lip, too lazy to waste any more words on him, and hurriedly left with his men.
In his eyes, Li Jianguo was just someone who couldn't make a living and was obsessed with saving face. He clearly didn't even have the right to touch the real machine, but he still pretended to be high and mighty.
Just as the group arrived at the main entrance of the exhibition hall, a commotion suddenly arose ahead.
Moreover, the commotion grew larger and larger, and the crowd quickly dispersed.
Mr. Zhang squeezed through the crowd, looked up, and froze on the spot.
On the main road at the gate, three heavy flatbed trailers were slowly driving in, behind which stood the F-22s that everyone had been eagerly anticipating.
Fighter jets.
"F-22! It really is an F-22!"
Exclamations of surprise rose and fell from the crowd, and the clicking of camera shutters filled the air.
What made everyone's scalp tingle was that these three were just the beginning, with trailers following one after another.
Everyone was stunned.
"What's going on? The airshow hasn't even opened yet, and they've already brought in all the real aircraft?"
"Wait a minute! The United States military is bringing fighter jets into the exhibition hall? Where are they going to put them?"
Why bring in so many all at once? Are you going to do a touring exhibition?
Soon, everyone knew the answer.
The convoy of trailers stopped in the most central area of the exhibition hall, turned around, and drove straight into the huge 2,000-square-meter booth of DYB Warhammer Arms Industry.
The entire venue was deathly silent for three seconds, then erupted into chaos.
Chinese and foreign media rushed over like madmen, cameras in hand, their lenses fixed on the fighter jets slowly entering the booth, their minds buzzing.
Surprised?
Accident.
Yet it makes sense.
After all, DYB is a military-industrial company registered in Amerikan, but the problem is, isn't the F-22 Locke Martin's lifeline?
How did it become an exhibit of DYB?
If anyone was the most shocked, it would undoubtedly be General Manager Zhang.
He watched as Li Jianguo stepped forward and methodically directed the placement of the goods to the tow truck driver and staff.
Unconvinced, he pushed through the crowd and rushed to the booth, grabbing Li Jianguo's arm and asking, "Old Li! This—this fighter jet, is it yours?"
Li Jianguo nodded. "Yes."
"Isn't that Locke Martin's F-22?!"
"Oh, our company bought the entire production line and resumed production ourselves, even upgrading and optimizing it." Li Jianguo said calmly, as if he were just saying the weather was nice today.
Mr. Zhang's mind went blank. The words he had used a few days ago to mock others for "not being able to make it back to China to find a job" and "being an empty shell micro-enterprise" now felt like a dozen slaps to his face.
His lips trembled, and after a long pause, he managed to stammer, "But didn't you say you were going to a small or micro-sized enterprise?!"
"Small and micro enterprises? Oh, you mean our domestic branch."
That company only handles administrative matters and is registered as a micro-enterprise.
"After all, our domestic branch only handles administrative liaison and employee social security payments; it doesn't conduct any actual business operations. It's registered as a small or micro-sized enterprise, you know what I mean."
Li Jianguo raised an eyebrow and patted the F-22 fuselage next to him.
"Alright, I have to go now, I'll have to talk to you later."
Li Jianguo turned to get busy, leaving General Manager Zhang standing there. His former colleagues all took a half step back, their eyes filled with embarrassment and mockery.
Li Jianguo felt a mix of emotions at that moment.
He spent half his life working at Shenfei, barely even getting a glimpse of the blueprints for foreign fourth-generation fighters. Now, the world's most advanced fifth-generation fighter is right in front of him, under his complete command.
Yesterday, his public mockery of Li Jianguo's words about "not being able to make it in the world and going back to China to find a job" felt like needles pricking his face, burning with pain, making him wish he could disappear into a crack in the ground.
Li Jianguo glanced around at the media and buyers who had gathered around him, and said in a low but clear voice, "Thank you all for coming. The day after tomorrow morning, our company will hold a new product launch here to formally introduce our entire product line and announce the prices."
"Let me reveal something here: the price of our fifth-generation fighter jet is definitely far lower than that of the United States military's F-35."
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
"There are no political conditions attached to the sale, no restrictions on usage scenarios, no lifetime logistical maintenance, payment on-site, and immediate pickup." Li Jianguo paused, then added, "We've brought a total of 147 brand-new, in-stock aircraft this time. Limited quantity, first come, first served."
"During the exhibition, all exhibited aircraft can be visited up close with staff, including access to the cockpit and avionics systems."
As soon as he finished speaking, the entire audience went completely wild.
Fifth-generation fighter jet!
Spot goods!
No additional conditions!
The price is even lower than the F-35!
This isn't an exhibition; they're here to overturn the global arms trade market!
The news spread like wildfire, reaching the entire airshow in a minute, making headlines in major global media outlets in half an hour, and dominating all domestic and international social media platforms in an hour.
Countries that had no intention of attending the airshow started the registration process overnight.
Business and first-class seats on international flights to Zhuhai were snapped up instantly. Middle Eastern princes chartered entire private planes, bringing their purchasing teams, legal teams, and armed bodyguards to Zhuhai.
All rooms in five-star hotels in Zhuhai's city center are sold out, and even hotels in nearby Zhongshan and Jiangmen are booked out. Buyers with plenty of money are directly renting yachts in Hengqin Bay, eating and sleeping at sea, just waiting for the airshow to open.
To put it bluntly, who wouldn't want to see this fifth-generation fighter jet up close?
Who wouldn't want to touch the treasure that the United States military has kept for over a decade?
Normally Amerikan wouldn't even let you see it, but now someone's letting you see it freely, and even buy it—who could sit still?
The airshow organizing committee office was still brightly lit at midnight.
The phone rang incessantly, and the operator never put down the receiver.
Just after hanging up the Russia hotline, a joint purchasing group from Persia and the Middle East called again. And just as I put down the receiver, a joint exhibition application from ten Southeast Asian countries arrived in the organizing committee's email.
"Hello, this is the Zhuhai Airshow Organizing Committee. Yes, we have received your application to participate from the Ministry of National Defense. We will process it for you immediately!"
" The Hans Federal Defense Force Procurement Delegation? No problem! We'll reserve VIP seats and a private meeting room immediately!"
" Royal Saudi Air Force? Got it! A dedicated reception area, security team, and parking space will all be arranged for you!"
"Ministry of Foreign Affairs, you said it's the Russia delegation's application, right? No problem! We'll get in touch right away!"
The organizing committee director hung up the Ministry of Foreign Affairs' hotline, looked at the staff who were busy all day long, and then at the mountain of temporary exhibition applications, and was at a loss for words.
Having organized so many airshows, I've never seen anything like this.
The day before the event, official delegations from dozens of countries signed up overnight, including long-established military powerhouses in Europe that usually look down on others.
This isn't an airshow; it's a global arms trade summit.
The Miss Universe Pageant has just concluded, with the grand finale awards ceremony and world finale advancement segment just finished.
When Fu Haoran returned to the VIP section, Shen Shuwei was standing in the champion's seat, wearing a snow-white satin dress. Two extremely thin straps hung on her snow-white shoulders, and the fabric below her collarbone was tightly wrapped, outlining a full curve.
The dress had a deep V-neck that plunged all the way down to below her sternum. Two pieces of fabric crossed at her chest, barely covering her heavy, full breasts, which rose and fell gently with her breathing.
The waist is extremely narrow, and the thin satin fabric clings to the flat stomach, outlining the clear contours of the abs.
The skirt draped naturally from her hips, with a high slit on the right side that almost reached her upper thigh. When she turned slightly to the side, her entire long, slender, snow-white leg was revealed from the slit, and the skin on the inside of her thigh gleamed delicately under the spotlight.
She stood out even among a group of Miss World contestants.
The Latina contestant next to her had a hot body, and the blonde contestant had delicate features, but everyone's eyes were unconsciously drawn to Shen Shuwei.
She did nothing, just stood there, chin slightly raised, like a swan just emerging from the water.
The spotlight shone on the skin of her collarbone and shoulders, making it appear almost translucent white.
When the host announced the list of participants who had qualified for the world championships, the cheers from the audience when Shen Shuwei's name was called were deafening.
She stepped forward to accept the advancement card and trophy, when suddenly, a staff member brought her a bouquet of flowers.
Shen Shuwei was somewhat surprised. Sending flowers was allowed during the competition, but few people knew about this method and even fewer used it.
Because it doesn't cost much, it doesn't reflect one's social status.
Shen Shuwei saw the name on the flowers: Fu Haoran (gift).
Fu?
Shen Shuwei glanced at the VIP seats with a puzzled look, her gaze landing on Fu Haoran, before she remembered the man she had met twice before.
Shen Shuwei nodded slightly to Fu Haoran in thanks.
Fu Haoran leaned back in his chair and nodded in response.
Neither of them took the matter to heart.
One is busy making money and building a career, while the other has many suitors.
Just as Shen Shuwei stepped off the stage, a young man suddenly stood up, holding a large bouquet of Ecuador roses high in his arms, and shouted Shen Shuwei's name loudly.
The assistant skillfully took the flowers and placed them together with the small mountain of bouquets piled up next to them.
Shen Shuwei smiled politely at him, her smile exactly the same as her standard smile for the camera.
As the man sat down, his companion patted him on the shoulder and teased him. He blushed and felt that Shen Shuwei had smiled at him a little more.
In the backstage dressing room, Shen Shuwei had just changed out of her dress when her assistant came in carrying a pile of gifts and greeting cards.
None of the gifts here cost less than 100,000.
There are watches, necklaces, and limited-edition luxury items.
Shen Shuwei was already used to this.
The assistant skillfully sorted and processed them, keeping the valuables and packing up the worthless ones to get rid of.
When the assistant saw the flowers Fu Haoran had sent, he curled his lip in disapproval.
"Just a bouquet of flowers? That's so stingy. He thinks he can win over a rich girl with that kind of money?"
After saying that, he threw the flowers and greeting card into the trash can.
The next day, on the airshow tarmac, a light drizzle suddenly began to fall.
Raindrops pattered against the fighter jet's fuselage. Two workers in Warhammer Arms Industry overalls were using flat mops, dampened with water, to clean the F-11 fighter jet.
22. Wipe the fuselage of the aircraft from the rain.
After wiping it down, I grabbed a thick, waterproof plastic bag, shoved it over the canopy, and that was it.
Several air force technical experts had just come out of the adjacent exhibition area when they looked up and saw this scene. Their faces instantly turned green, and they rushed over to grab the staff. "What are you doing?! Is this how you maintain fifth-generation fighters?!"
"Don't you know how delicate the F-22's stealth coating is? You can't just wipe it with a mop like that? You just cover it with a plastic bag when it rains? What about the temperature-controlled hangar? What about the professional maintenance team? You're just wasting resources!"
Before the staff could speak, Li Jianguo walked over and gave the experts a wry smile, "Gentlemen, please don't get agitated. It's not that we don't want to maintain it, it's just that this level of damage won't cause any harm to our bodies."
Li Jianguo couldn't very well say that his boss did this on purpose, claiming it was to test the fighter jet's tolerance to different environments, so as to facilitate subsequent improvements.
The boss even declared that if a product can't even withstand this light rain, it doesn't deserve to be called a qualified military product.
Is this even human language?
The experts stood there, speechless for a long time.
They understood all too well what this meant.
The United States military's F-22 requires more than ten hours of meticulous maintenance for each flight. Even a small amount of damage to the stealth coating necessitates a return to the factory for repairs. It is as delicate as a pampered young lady.
And the F-22, which Warhammer Arms Industry resumed production of, has somehow become a forgotten relic?
Someone muttered to themselves, "High-end fighter jets often only require the simplest cleaning methods—"
Zhuhai Port Dispatch Center, 3:00 AM.
A berthing approval document was finally issued to the port authority.
The document contained only one sentence. "The Great Fortune roll-on/roll-off ship is permitted to berth at deep-water berth No. 9."
The veteran employee in charge of the matter twitched his lips as he looked at the words "Ro-Ro ship" on the document.
Yesterday, satellite images circulated widely. That wasn't a roll-on/roll-off ship; it was a steel behemoth over 400 meters long. Only the official documents still used the declared name.
In reality, the above was a last resort; only by perpetuating some mistakes could we achieve a win-win situation for everyone.
The next morning, just as dawn was breaking.
On the horizon, a small black dot slowly emerged.
At first, the media and the public who were watching didn't think much of it and just regarded it as an ordinary cargo ship.
As the giant ship drew closer, everyone held their breath.
That was no ordinary ship.
It was a moving mountain of steel.
With a 420-meter-long, flat deck, more than 80 meters longer than the Ford-class aircraft carrier, the massive island superstructure on the starboard side pierced the morning mist, the hull broke through the sea surface, and the waves it stirred up crashed heavily onto the dock, while the deafening sound of the ship's horn pierced the sky.
The massive ship slowly approached its berth, its overwhelming presence causing the crowd on the dock to involuntarily retreat.
The 420-meter-long steel hull completely shrouded the entire No. 9 berth in shadow, and the waves it stirred up lapped against the embankment, causing the ground to tremble slightly.
Even seasoned port workers, accustomed to seeing giant container ships, were stunned and speechless for a long time.
This isn't a roll-on/roll-off ship.
This is clearly the largest aircraft carrier in human history!
The image of the giant ship docking in port instantly spread around the world.
Just half an hour later, the Amerikan Department of Defense suddenly held an emergency press conference and announced a piece of news that shocked the world, "The USS Ronald Reagan Ronald Reagan Carrier Strike Group of the Amerikan Navy will participate in this University of Tokyo Airshow and is expected to arrive tomorrow."
At the press conference, a Britain Reuters immediately raised his hand and asked, "Spokesperson, will the USS Ronald Reagan be open to the public for tours after its arrival?"
The spokesperson's smile froze instantly. He glared at the reporter who asked the question, cursing this troublesome Britain a hundred times in his heart.
He forced a formal response. "We are still evaluating the relevant opening-up matters and will make appropriate arrangements based on the situation."
The moment those words were spoken, everyone in the room understood.
The old drunkard's heart was not in the wine.
The United States military wasn't there to participate in the exhibition; they were clearly there to keep an eye on the Great Fortune.
The most embarrassed party is the Zhuhai Airshow organizing committee.
They had just received notification from Amerikan that the Great Fortune had been approved to dock, and now United States military aircraft carrier was about to arrive, leaving them in a flurry of activity.
During an internal meeting, someone frowned and said, "We applied to board the Great Fortune, but they said they would only arrange it on the official opening day of the exhibition; they won't let us board now."
The person in charge waved his hand and sighed, "Don't push too hard. It's normal for them to have some confidentiality requirements when they bring such a large device to the exhibition."
"Anyway, it won't make a difference of a day or two. Let's get them settled first."
Unbeknownst to them, the scene on the bridge of the Great Fortune was completely different at that moment.
Fu Haoran leaned back in his command chair and instructed the Tech-Priest Kallen in front of him, "Seal off all technical areas related to the Machine Cult. Designate the core power room and the lower level of the hangar as restricted areas, and prohibit any outsiders from entering."
"Clean up the rest of the area and get it ready to receive guests."
Tychus was standing nearby with Cigar in his mouth, nearly dropped it upon hearing Cigar: "Boss? Letting those mortals board the ship? Isn't that inappropriate?"
Fu Haoran glanced at him irritably. "What do you know? You eat the equivalent of ten ordinary people's meals a day. The equipment wear and tear on the Planetary Defense Force, the fuel and ammunition for the fighter jets—all of these cost money!"
"I built over a hundred fighter jets in one go, I'm practically broke! If we don't take this opportunity to recoup some losses, are we supposed to go back and eat Corpse Starch together?"
Ever since he started living a life of luxury with Fu Haoran, Tychus vowed that he would rather starve to death than ever touch Corpse Starch again.
He immediately stubbed out his Cigar, patted his chest, and shouted, "The boss is right! We have to make money!! Forget opening the doors to customers, I'd even be a ticket collector at the entrance! I'd rather starve to death than touch a single grain of Corpse Starch again!"
On the other side, the Tech-Priest Kallen had a constipated expression on his face that said, "Letting mortals board the ship is blasphemy against Omnissiah," which didn't surprise Fu Haoran at all.
He said calmly, "More representatives will speak up then. I believe that whatever technology they are interested in, we can discuss it as long as they offer equivalent industrial and materials technologies in exchange."
Kallen immediately straightened her back, placed one hand on her chest in a Machine Cult salute, and said in a devout tone, " The Omnissiah will accept every believer who thirsts for knowledge."
"All who are willing to offer equivalent technology to the Omnissiah will be honored guests of my church!"
"I'll immediately arrange for the area to be sealed off to ensure the core Relic isn't leaked, and at the same time, make preparations for receiving it!"
Looking at the crew members who had suddenly become enthusiastic, Fu Haoran tapped the table and announced, "During the exhibition, all project revenue will be split 50/50 between individuals and the military."
"The money you earn can be exchanged for supplies to take back to the Hive City, whether it's food, drinks, daily necessities, or weapon parts."
The moment those words were spoken, the entire bridge erupted in chaos.
In the Hive World, clean food, fresh fruit, and radiation-free fresh water are all hard currency, more valuable than gold.
The crew members, who were initially uninterested in receiving guests, instantly became incredibly enthusiastic, each one a source of brilliant ideas.
"We're offering our beds for rent! 500 yuan a night! 5000 yuan for a military cabin with a private bathroom!"
"Open up the cafeteria! Selling a Grox Burger for 200 yuan isn't unreasonable, is it?"
"Carrier-based aircraft flight experience! 15-minute low-altitude flyby, 100,000 RMB per person!"
Half an hour later, the Zhuhai Airshow organizing committee received an official notification from DYB Company:
During the exhibition, the Great Fortune will be open to the public for tours, with tickets priced at US$500 per person. Onboard accommodations, dining, and flight experiences will also be available, and online reservations are now open.
The news caused an uproar across the internet.
Everyone thought this was crazy.
Using an aircraft carrier as a hotel? Using fifth-generation fighter jets as an experience attraction? This is utterly outrageous, ridiculously absurd!
But to everyone's surprise, the backend server crashed just three minutes after the reservation link went live.
Tickets sold out instantly, and bed reservations were booked up for two weeks in advance. Even the $100,000-per-person flight experience was completely sold out for the first three days.