Chapter 199 A Different Delegation

April 22nd, Hanover, Overcast.

Inside the hotel buffet, the sound of cutlery clinking against porcelain plates was sparse and restrained.

It wasn't peak dining hours, and there were only a few tables of guests.

At a long table in the corner, the Chinese delegation was eating.

"Comrades, today is the first day of the exhibition."

"It is also the first day we engage in close-quarters competition with world-class enterprises."

Holding his water glass, Director Zhu scanned the room and lowered his voice for a final pre-battle mobilization:

"Today's task is simple: observe more, record more, and speak less."

"Even though it's our first time at such a top-tier arena,"

"we cannot lose our momentum. We must be neither supercilious nor obsequious."

"Understood," everyone responded in a low, synchronized voice.

However, under the cover of this solemn mobilization,

a tacitly coordinated "undercover operation" was quietly unfolding on the table.

Taking advantage of the moment the waiter turned to clear a neighboring table, Secretary Zhang's hands moved with startling speed.

She appeared to be tidying her napkin, but her fingers were actually hooking something.

The few unopened small squares of butter and individually packaged jams on the table

instantly vanished into her oversized suit pockets.

The other delegation members were not to be outdone.

Two slices of whole wheat bread remained on the plate in front of Deputy Division Chief Wang.

He calmly picked up a napkin and folded it in half.

The bread slices were wrapped inside as if by magic.

He then casually stuffed them into the side pocket of the briefcase by his feet.

A few boiled eggs also completed their strategic transfer under everyone's cover.

This wasn't about being petty.

This was the unique survival wisdom of those traveling abroad in that era.

The cost of a single lunch,

if saved and converted at the black market exchange rate,

was enough to buy dozens of pounds of pork back home.

Or buy an expensive German edition of the Mechanical Design Handbook here.

To save foreign exchange for the country and to save a bit of their own allowance to buy reference materials,

these people, who were Chief Engineers and high-ranking officials back home,

folded up their dignity and hid it inside the briefcases meant for carrying blueprints.

As the livestream camera panned over this scene,

the bullet chat fell into a brief silence before erupting.

["I'm crying. My grandfather was an engineer from that era. He said when he went abroad back then, he couldn't even bear to buy water. If he was thirsty, he'd drink tap water in the restroom."]

["Is this the 'take it with you if you can't finish it' of that era? It looks so heartbreaking."]

["Heartbreaking my foot! This is a tactic! Saving lunch money to buy film and data—this is the wisdom of the older generation."]

["Seriously, this isn't stealing; this is saving money on rations to buy technology!"]

["This is the backbone of the older generation; they eat grass and give milk."]

Lin Xi unhurriedly finished his last sip of milk.

Looking at the empty table, the corners of his mouth curled slightly.

In this era where foreign exchange was more precious than gold,

face was for outsiders to see, but the stomach was one's own.

These experts, in order to save those few US dollars for the country, had long since mastered these divine skills.

"That waiter is looking over."

Zhou Jianjun pushed up his glasses and gave a low-voiced warning.

Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing and sat up straight, as if everything that had just happened had never occurred.

Director Zhu set down his water glass, straightened his tie, and said in a deep voice:

"Let's go."

...

Hanover Exhibition Center, Hall 2.

This was one of the core areas of the entire expo: the Metalworking and Machine Tool exhibition area.

Under the massive dome, steel beasts were waking up.

The air was thick with the scent of engine oil, rust-preventative grease, and a hint of paint.

Although it lacked the splendor of the LCD screens of later generations,

the rows of towering halogen spotlights, the still-flickering neon tubes, and the occasional "hiss" from air compressors

together constructed the most hardcore industrial heavy metal movement of this era.

Lu Ning stood at the E4 Intersection, constantly checking his watch.

He had graduated from Shanghai Jiao Tong University and was sent on a government scholarship to study in the Department of Mechanical Engineering at the University of Hanover in 1980.

His mission this time was to serve as a guide and translator.

Lu Ning raised his wrist and looked at that heavily worn Shanghai brand watch.

It was 7:50.

"Why aren't they here yet..."

He muttered to himself, his brow furrowed.

In these two years, he had seen many study delegations from home.

They wore ill-fitting suits with frayed cuffs.

Underneath, they wore thermal underwear, with detachable collars tilted to one side.

They had eyes that were both longing and humble when they saw advanced equipment.

And there were the backs of those who, due to a lack of money, gnawed on dry bread in the corners of the exhibition halls.

"I hope it'll be a bit better this time..."

Lu Ning murmured to himself,

"even if they just look a bit more spirited, so these foreigners don't look down on us too much."

He turned around and looked at the booth belonging to Red Star Technology behind him.

His heart sank suddenly.

This was a textbook "execution spot."

A medium-sized booth of fifty square meters, right at the intersection of the main thoroughfare.

The location was excellent, but the surroundings were extremely hostile.

To the left was the local Germanic giant, Siemens.

Their booth was built like a green castle of the future.

Ten dark green CNC systems were lined up.

The CRT monitors flickered with a ghostly green light representing technology.

To the right was a sea of yellow.

The yellow robotic arms of Japan's Fanuc swung about.

They emitted the unique "hum" of precision motors—a boast of industrial automation.

And directly opposite...

Lu Ning grit his teeth.

Directly opposite was Japan's Mazak, which had just changed to an orange logo.

Their booth was enormous, taking up nearly half the aisle.

A never-before-seen, sci-fi-looking machine tool was placed on a rotating display stand.

Several Japanese engineers in dark uniforms were surrounding it for debugging, their expressions insufferably arrogant.

In contrast, the Red Star booth, squeezed between these three,

was so simple it looked like a thatched hut that had wandered into the Empire State Building.

There was no carpet, no neon lights, only a few white display boards.

In the center of the booth stood three machine tools, crowding the space and making it feel a bit cramped.

They were painted dark gold, with ancient fret patterns engraved on the bodies.

Contrasted against the streamlined, sci-fi-looking equipment around them,

they appeared heavy and desolate.

A few passing white businessmen pointed at the bronze machine tool.

They shrugged and let out a burst of playful, mocking laughter.

Although he couldn't hear what they were saying,

Lu Ning felt a burning sting on his face.

This feeling of being ignored and treated like a joke

was more painful than being insulted to his face.

"Damn organizers..."

Lu Ning clenched his fists.

"This is intentional; they're putting us on the hot seat!"

Just then, the rhythmic sound of leather shoes clicking against the floor pierced through the noise of the exhibition hall.

Lu Ning instinctively looked up.

In the next second, he was stunned.

A team was walking in through the main entrance.

There were no baggy suits, no exposed thermal underwear, and certainly no cowering gazes.

They were all in navy blue suits.

Well-tailored with crisp shoulder lines.

The sunlight poured through the dome onto them,

reflecting the matte texture unique to high-end fabrics.

In their hands, they carried uniform black leather briefcases.

The Red Star logo embossed on the bags shone brightly under the lights.

What shocked Lu Ning the most were their collars.

The snow-white shirt collars stood firm without a single wrinkle, and their ties were knotted meticulously.

Between the buttons of their open suit jackets, the smooth front of their shirts was visible—

those were real shirts, not detachable collars!

How was this a study delegation from home?

This was clearly a well-trained team of business elites!