At 2 p.m., the meeting resumed, and the discussion moved on to how to cut down some functions and how to reasonably arrange the construction schedule to ensure the budget could be met. The experts from the National Metallurgical Research Institute who had come with Samuel Lawson, together with John Lewis and others from the Nanjiang Provincial Metallurgical Bureau, once again plunged into a fierce debate. At the height of the argument, even these usually refined intellectuals were slapping the table, forcing James Quinn and Samuel Lawson to get up again and again to play the role of mediators.

"Director Lawson, this won't do."

While everyone was arguing over technical issues, Yvonne Harris turned his head and quietly said to Samuel Lawson, "If we cut one heavy plate line, this set of equipment will be castrated and won't meet the expectations we had when we first proposed the import. Thin plate, medium plate, heavy plate—we can't do without any of them. Several shipyards in Pujiang have already stopped work waiting for materials and are coming to our bureau every day to beg. If Nanjiang can't produce heavy plates, our shipbuilding industry will be affected."

"But what if we don't cut this heavy plate line? Only by cutting some functions can we most effectively reduce the investment. Think about it, a single heavy plate line costs 12 million. If we don't cut it, squeezing 12 million from elsewhere is just too difficult," said Samuel Lawson.

Yvonne Harris glanced at the big pile of blueprints stacked in the corner of the meeting room and said, "In my opinion, we shouldn't make changes to the big framework. We should organize people to go through the blueprints one by one. In our past infrastructure projects, just one round of review like this could squeeze out at least 5% of the padding."

"Who will review them?" asked Samuel Lawson. "The blueprints are all in foreign languages, and they're for advanced equipment we've never dealt with before. To be honest, I've taken some time to look at a few blueprints during previous visits, and they might as well have been written in hieroglyphs. The equipment we've worked with before was based on the Soviet system, but the Japanese side learned from the Americans, and their design philosophy is completely different from ours. Without several years of effort, we can't possibly figure out what all these components are for, let alone cut costs from the blueprints..."

As he spoke, his gaze inadvertently swept over a stack of notepaper in front of him, and he couldn't help but frown.

"Xiao Hao, did you write this?" Samuel Lawson pointed to a string of letters and numbers on the notepaper and asked Yvonne Harris. This notepaper was what he used to jot down ideas at any time, and it was covered in messy scribbles. This string of letters and numbers was written at the very bottom of the notepaper, circled with a box, clearly to draw his attention. He could easily tell that this was not his own handwriting, and when he left the meeting room earlier that morning, there had been no writing there. Now, with these characters suddenly appearing, it could only have been written by Yvonne Harris, who sat next to him.

Yvonne Harris leaned over for a look and shook his head. "No, I didn't write that. I don't even know what it is."

"You didn't write it?" Samuel Lawson was a bit surprised. He thought for a moment, then stood up and walked toward the corner where the blueprints were stacked.

His unusual action naturally drew the attention of James Quinn, Helen Lawson, and others. Helen Lawson stood up, walked over, and quietly asked, "Old Lawson, what's up? You want to look at the blueprints?"

"KBS-3720, I want to take a look," Samuel Lawson reported the string of symbols he had seen on the notepaper. As a metallurgical bureau official with a technical background, he could easily guess that this string of symbols must correspond to a blueprint number. Although he didn't know who had written this number on his notepaper, his years of professional sensitivity told him he should find this blueprint and take a look—there might be something special about it.

"KBS-3720?" Helen Lawson was momentarily stunned. He didn't know why Samuel Lawson suddenly wanted to look at a blueprint, and with such a specific target. There were so many blueprints in this batch airlifted from Japan that it was overwhelming. Even John Lewis and the others had only looked through a portion of them. This KBS-3720 might never have been seen by anyone. What was Samuel Lawson up to, insisting on finding this particular blueprint?

"Xiao Feng." Helen Lawson turned to a young man standing nearby and called out, "Director Lawson wants a blueprint, number KBS-3720. Help him find it."

"Yes!" The young man called "Little Franklin" responded. He first found the blueprint directory on the shelf, searched for a while, then went over to the pile of blueprints, laboriously moved the thick volumes, finally found one, opened to a certain page, and handed it respectfully to Samuel Lawson, saying, "Director Lawson, here it is—this is KBS-3720."

"Thank you," Samuel Lawson said casually as he took the volume. Just as he was about to study the blueprint closely, he suddenly had a strange feeling and couldn't help but look up at the young man in front of him.

It was a face so young it made one envious—rosy lips, white teeth, and even a faint dimple on his cheek that made people want to protect him. He was tall and slender, wearing a white "Dacron" shirt, which was considered a luxury at the time, looking clean and neat.

What surprised Samuel Lawson most were the young man's bright eyes, which shone with honesty, intelligence, and a hint of understanding.

Who is this person, and why do I feel a sense of familiarity?

A thought surged into Samuel Lawson's mind.

Chapter Three This Is Not a Rolling Mill Component at All