Courtyard Houses: From Bronze Compasses to Global Reach

Chapter 393 Mediterranean Charm and Continued Rooting

Outside Malaga, Spain.

Lin Yan emerged from the basement of a white villa at 17 Calle de la Cruz.

The villa is located in the Mijas Mountains on the Costa del Sol, with pure white walls, blue-grey doors and windows, a courtyard surrounded by bougainvillea and lemon trees, and a swimming pool overlooking the Mediterranean Sea.

This is one of the properties acquired by the European group in its early years; it's quiet and has an excellent view.

Lin Yan stayed here for three days to adjust to the time difference, and then he began his coastal stroll.

He bought an Alfa Romeo Spider convertible and drove east along the coastal highway.

Our first stop was Marbella, where the beaches were already showing signs of the hedonistic atmosphere of 1980s Europe.

He was dressed in a simple linen shirt and shorts, and set up a huge white parasol on the beach, with a glass of chilled sangria next to a deck chair.

Lin Yan's gaze swept over the European women with bronze skin and brightly colored bikinis, as if he were appreciating part of the scenery.

Occasionally, a bold glance would return his gaze, and he would raise his glass in acknowledgment, but that was all.

In Estepona, he bought a surfboard. As he carried the board toward the waves, a long-lost sense of lightness returned.

The rhythm of riding the waves has a subtle connection with swordsmanship; both require sensing the "momentum" and using it to move forward.

As he traversed a tubular space filled with the roar of the waves, and sunlight refracted into shimmering spots by the seawater, he felt as if he had been transported back to a California beach in 59.

Lin Yan misses Xiao Qi a little.

If that little guy were here, he'd probably be excitedly digging holes in the sand, or barking at the seagulls, before getting soaked by a wave and angrily splashing water all over them.

Mediterranean cuisine is the most down-to-earth and enjoyable.

He wasn't very interested in Michelin stars, preferring instead to seek out small restaurants frequented by locals near the harbor.

Near the Boqueria Market in Barcelona, ​​he found his travel savior – the red prawn.

Simply grill or pan-fry in garlic oil, and the shrimp shells become crispy, the shrimp brains become like solidified fat, and the shrimp meat becomes firm, sweet, and has an almost mystical aftertaste.

When he first tried it, he raised an eyebrow and decided he couldn't miss it.

So, he added a secret activity to his Mediterranean nights.

He found a secluded, deserted cliff on the coast and silently dived into the deep sea.

A Nascent Soul cultivator is no different underwater than on land; a slight emanation of spiritual light from their body separates them from the seawater and pressure.

He specifically targeted sea areas with large populations, his divine sense sweeping across them like a giant net.

Schools of bluefin tuna, red shrimp, giant lobsters, plump sea urchins, and full oysters, along with the small patch of mineral-rich seabed on which they were attached, were all "relocated" to the spiritual spring fishpond in his space on a large scale.

He even found several ancient shipwrecks and collected the gold coins, silverware, and some artifacts with historical significance that were not yet completely rusted, as souvenirs.

He continued eastward, passing the French Riviera, glancing at the casinos in Monaco before leaving and entering Italy.

Lin Yan hiked through the colorful cliffside towns of Cinque Terre and quickly browsed the Renaissance masterpieces in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence.

Finally, in the light rain of early winter, he arrived in Milan.

While Lin Yan was absorbing the sunlight and freshness of the Mediterranean, in the far East, Lin San and others were planting their roots in the soil of the early spring of 1982, the year of reform and opening up.

Shanghai, Minhang District, "Shenlin Daily Chemicals".

The first bottle of "White Cat" enzyme laundry detergent has rolled off the production line.

Lin San's quality inspector, holding a sample with the wrong viscosity, remarked, "The water in Shanghai is hard," causing the Hong Kong manager to break out in a cold sweat.

Therefore, they had to urgently adjust the formula, conduct on-site demonstrations, and publish popular science articles... The market gradually opened up inch by inch through precise calculations and patient cultivation.

When the first quality incident occurred due to unstable batches of raw materials, Lin San immediately used the contract terms to resist the pressure of the "designated supplier" and replaced the partner.

Secretary Liu sighed with lingering fear:

"If the brand is ruined, the factory will die."

Lin San nodded; what he wanted was this kind of reverence for "quality" that was like a faith.

Beijing, Ministry of Electronics Industry Guesthouse.

The negotiations between the Lin family and General Manager Zhao of the component company were a back-and-forth struggle, with teacups rising and falling.

Lin San wasn't aiming for high-profit products, but rather for the most basic resistors and capacitors.

He provides refurbished European production lines, but demands a yield rate of over 95% and insists on prioritizing supply to his own downstream factories.

Negotiations are deadlocked on equity ratios and risks.

The turning point came in a private room at the Wangfujing state-run restaurant. General Manager Zhao lowered his voice and proposed that his conditions were not more money, but rather "limited technology transfer" and "establishment of a research and development department to achieve the localization of basic materials."

Lin raised his glass; there was something more important in this glass of wine than profit.

Shenzhen, Technical Consulting Center.

The 400-page report that Engineer Cheng brought back from the Wuhan Iron and Steel Plant revealed the truth behind the failure to debug the imported equipment: it wasn't that the German machines were faulty, but that China's basic infrastructure, such as electricity, water quality, and dust control, hadn't kept up.

The banner was taken away by Engineer Cheng, but the reputation of "superb skills" had already spread.

Cheng Gong's suggestion at the end of the year was even more visionary: to open automation control training courses, starting with PLC programming, to break the dilemma of "only buying hardware, not software".

Foshan, a plastics factory.

Lin San used photos of discarded German equipment in Penang to persuade Factory Manager Feng, who wanted to buy American machinery.

The contract was for "computer casings." Although Lao Feng didn't understand what it meant, he trusted Lin San's talk of "the future."

Beijing, Foundation Office.

Professor Chen once recommended a list from the Chinese Academy of Sciences, which included pure theoretical research groups in topology, condensed matter theory, quantum chemistry, etc., all of which "did not show any application prospects in the short term".

Each research group had to submit a report every six months that they "had to understand even if they didn't understand it," and each group was paid $50,000—a huge sum in 1982.

Researcher Yang from the Institute of Mathematics replied with only one sentence: "The money will be used wisely."

As the winter rains fell in December, the sound of pile driving in Shenzhen continued day and night.

Lin San sat in his office reviewing reports: daily chemical products were profitable, electronic contracts were drafted, plastic molds were successfully made, and the technology center had a steady stream of projects.

Lin called from Singapore, saying that the "strategy" in Southeast Asia was starting to take shape.

Lin San looked out at the rain curtain. Over the past two years, the goodwill and concessions made by the Lin family in China have allowed them to spread a huge network across various industries in the mainland, like the roots of a big tree, constantly extending into the ground.

In Milan, in a secluded alley near the Church of Santa Maria delle Grazie, there's a family-run restaurant called "Boccondivino".

Lin Yan sat against the wall, with a plate of perfectly pan-fried veal slices in front of him, seasoned with butter and parsley, accompanied by a glass of house wine.

The restaurant was warm and welcoming. The owner and head chef, a chubby middle-aged man, was chatting and laughing loudly with regular customers behind the counter.

Lin Yan enjoyed the warm, bustling world, keeping his divine sense at a minimum and naturally dispersed, not deliberately probing anything, but simply a cultivator's instinctive perception of the environment.

Just then, he "saw" a little girl, about seven or eight years old, holding an old doll, being half-pulled and half-carried into an unmarked van by a man in a work jacket who looked hurried.

The girl's mouth was covered by a large hand, and her light brown eyes were now filled with immense terror and tears. She kicked her legs in vain.

Another man in the driver's seat, wearing a baseball cap, warily scanned the empty street.

The process is extremely fast, taking no more than five seconds.

The door slammed shut, the engine roared, and the truck sped away, merging into the evening traffic of Milan, like a drop of sewage flowing into the ocean.

The conversation and laughter continued in the restaurant as the portly owner brought out the next serving of tiramisu.

Lin Yan forked a piece of beef, slowly put it in his mouth, and chewed it slowly.

He didn't want to be a superhero, especially not in this foreign land.

But those eyes, filled with fear, lingered in his mind.

He put down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

The next moment, a divine imprint traversed the restaurant walls and the distance of the street, precisely attaching itself to the chassis of the gray van that was speeding away.

He picked up his glass and took a sip.

The wine was a regular Chianti, but it tasted somewhat astringent at that moment.