Old Wu adjusted his glasses and leaned closer to read the contents.
His expression shifted from confusion to shock, then finally to utter disbelief.
"Sir, you're not joking with me, are you?"
Old Wu pointed at the words "cubic nitrogen" on the screen, his voice changing pitch.
"This stuff is an inert explosive that couldn't be more stable!"
"Forget hitting it with a firing pin-you could smash it with an eight-pound hammer and it wouldn't make a peep!"
"You want to pack it into a 14.5 mm bullet and detonate it?! That's impossible!"
"I don't care!" Ma Dongsheng slammed his fist onto the desk, making the teacup rattle.
"These are absolute orders! We're staking our military honor on this!"
"Three days. I must see a sample of this thing!"
"That's impossible!" Old Wu's stubborn streak flared up too.
"Detonating cubic nitrogen inside a warhead that small simply can't produce enough energy!"
"What about artillery shells?" Ma Dongsheng asked, holding back his anger.
"Artillery shells are easy!" Old Wu answered at once.
"An artillery shell's warhead has plenty of room. Using the blast from a high-energy explosive to detonate cubic nitrogen is no problem. We just need to modify the production lines."
"But bullets... sir, with all due respect, that's pure fantasy!"
Ma Dongsheng rose and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the factory grounds, already ablaze with lights and bustling with people.
He remained silent for a long time before finally speaking slowly.
"Old Wu, how many years have we known each other?"
"Almost thirty."
"Have I ever screwed you over?"
"No, you haven't..."
"This order came from the very top." Ma Dongsheng's voice grew low.
"I can't tell you the specifics, but I can tell you this: if we can't make it, the soldiers on the front