Chapter 66 The "Artworks" at the Seventh Ministry of Machinery Industry's Booth

Guangzhou, Liuhua Road Exhibition Hall.

Autumn Canton Fair, deep inside Hall C.

This was the most "solemn" place in the entire exhibition.

There were no colorful flags like in the Light Industry Hall, and no continuous shouting of vendors.

A huge model of the "Long March" carrier rocket almost reached the ceiling.

The "Red Spear-2" anti-tank missile launcher, painted in jungle camouflage, looked like a crouching beast, its dark launch tubes exuding a chilling deterrent force.

And right under the armpit of these steel behemoths, a glass counter covered with velvet cloth was abruptly placed.

Inside the counter, there were no precision gyroscopes or microwave radar components; instead, two items lay there alone:

A cyan "Red Star · gentle breeze" electric fan.

A matte black "red star whirlwind" razor.

How could one describe this scene?

It was as if a little girl in a lace dress selling lipstick had mixed in among a group of Spartan warriors in heavy armor.

The sense of incongruity was overwhelming.

"Brother Wang, is... is this going to work?"

Sun Erga shrunk his neck.

He looked at the missile fin on the left, which was as thick as a thigh.

Then he looked at the satellite solar wing on the right, which looked like an alien weapon.

He felt like he didn't even dare to breathe loudly.

"We're selling small appliances, not weapons."

"Just now I saw a foreign guest pass by; his face turned pale with fear from that missile, and he couldn't wait to go around it. How could he even see our razors?"

Section Chief Wang, who was in charge of coordination, also had a face full of despair, sighing while holding a chipped enamel mug.

"Brother Erga, just be content."

Section Chief Wang sighed and pointed to the banner overhead.

"Do you know why we were stuffed here?"

Sun Erga shook his head.

"It’s all because of that precious manager of yours."

Section Chief Wang lowered his voice, his eyes drifting toward Lin Xi, who was squatting on the ground.

"During a previous ministry meeting, Vice Minister Liu of the First Ministry of Machine Building Industry was pounding the table demanding people."

"He said Lin Xi is a once-in-a-century genius for civilian products, and putting him in the Seventh Ministry of Machine Building Industry to build missiles is a waste of talent. He insisted on snatching Lin Xi away."

"How could that be!" Sun Erga got anxious.

"In life, we are Seventh Ministry people; in death, we are Seventh Ministry ghosts!"

"Exactly! That's what General Manager Zhang said at the time."

Section Chief Wang imitated Zhang Zhengguo's tone, slamming the enamel mug onto the table.

General Manager Zhang exploded on the spot.

Pointing at Minister Liu's nose, he cursed: 'Want to pick the peaches? Have you asked if my Seventh Ministry's rockets agree! Even if Red Star makes a toothpick, it's a toothpick of my Aerospace System!'

Section Chief Wang spread his hands.

"And this is the result."

"To assert sovereignty, General Manager Zhang said Red Star's products must be placed at the core booth of the Seventh Ministry."

"Even if it looks out of place next to missiles, he won't give the First Ministry any chance to 'poach' him."

Sun Erga was dumbfounded, only managing to squeeze out after a long while: "This... this is too protective."

"Protective?"

Lin Xi, who had been fiddling with the spotlights, stood up and patted the dust off his hands.

At this moment, he was wearing a well-tailored white shirt with sleeves rolled up, revealing lean, strong forearms.

"Erga, your perspective is too small."

Lin Xi pointed to the glass counter glowing under the spotlights, a playful curve curling at the corner of his mouth.

"This isn't called awkwardness; it's called—Dimensionality Reduction Strike."

"Down... what?" Sun Erga looked confused.

Lin Xi walked to the counter, his fingers lightly tapping the glass surface.

"Go look at the Light Industry Hall. What are those selling fans and hair dryers competing for?"

"They're competing on price, color, and whose booth has the loudest voice."

"That's a wet market."

Lin Xi shook his head, his gaze becoming deep.

"But here, we are an arsenal."

He pointed to the Red Spear missile next to them.

"We want to tell the whole world."

"Our razors were born on the production line of big guys like this."

"Do you think when a man knows the razor in his hand has the same lineage as a missile, he will still care about a price difference of a few dozen dollars?"

Sun Erga was stunned.

He looked at the black razor; under the glow of the spotlights, it no longer seemed like a simple daily necessity.

Instead, it was some kind of precise, cold industrial totem full of violent aesthetics.

"Brother, your mouth..."

Sun Erga swallowed, "It really can talk the dead back to life."

As they spoke, a foreigner wearing a light gray suit walked from the end of the exhibition hall corridor.

Looking at his name tag, he was a merchant from France.

This fellow wiped his sweat, ran to the booth, and complained:

"Dammit. I'm here to find 'Red Star · gentle breeze'!"

"A friend of mine brought one back, and it's the best fan I've ever used! I want to sell it in France!"

"But it wasn't in the Light Industry Hall at all. I almost thought I was cheated. I walked around three times before being pointed here!"

The Frenchman complained while wiping sweat. Just as he was about to grumble to the staff, his gaze was suddenly attracted by something in another display case.

Among a pile of rough heavy machinery, that little thing as exquisite as a work of art.

It was too eye-catching.

The Frenchman stopped, pointing doubtfully at the razor, then at the missile launcher next to it.

"Hello," he asked in broken English.

"Is this some new kind of... detonator?"

The translator nearby was about to explain, but Lin Xi smiled and raised his hand to stop him, stepping out of the booth.

"Sir," Lin Xi said in fluent English.

"This is not a detonator."

"This is a personal facial grooming system we developed using satellite Attitude Control Technology."

"Satellite... technology?" The Frenchman felt his brain couldn't quite process it.

"Yes." Lin Xi pointed to the towering satellite model nearby.

"The machine you see uses the same permanent magnet materials as this satellite."

"To ensure stability in a zero-gravity environment, we controlled the dynamic balance precision to the micron level."

"To put it simply."

Lin Xi shrugged and handed the $100 "high-tech product" to the Frenchman.

"We built a razor using the standards of a Space Shuttle."

The Frenchman held the heavy machine and pressed the switch.

Buzz—

The sound was low and pleasant, and the body felt almost no vibration.

He looked up at the intimidating missile again, and the image of this razor operating precisely in space orbit instantly appeared in his mind.

A sense of inexplicable admiration welled up.

In Westerners' perception, although China's light industry was backward, its military and aerospace industries were truly good.

A country that can send satellites into space, using some leftover technology to make a razor, isn't that... what was that word again?

Right, Dimensionality Reduction Strike!

The Frenchman fondled the skin-like coating of the device, unable to put it down.

The touch reminded him of the skin of a French lover, but the core of this thing was so tough.

This is what a man should use!

...

Next, the Seventh Ministry of Machine Building Industry's booth became the most bizarre sight in the entire Hall C.

Influenced by the summer Lighthouse Country market, many foreign merchants had already come looking for "Red Star" fans.

As a result, as soon as they arrived, they barely looked at the fans before their souls were drawn away by the "satellite-grade" razor next to them.

Clearly a Hall C for heavy industry, it was packed to the brim with foreign merchants looking for light industry products.

Just then, two more blonde-haired, blue-eyed foreigners followed the crowd to the front of the booth.