novelsite Chapter 39 Indians
Chapter 39 Indians
At dawn, Wang Zhengyang walked towards the eleventh carriage. As soon as the door opened, the smell of diesel and engine oil wafted out. Li Ruijun's team was installing a brand-new transmission system, the arc of welding flashing in the dimly lit carriage.
"Engineer Wang, you've come at the right time." Li Ruijun wiped his sweat and pointed to the huge component being hoisted. "The main drive shaft is in place; now we need to connect it to the gearbox."
Wang Zhengyang looked up at the steel component weighing 1.5 tons. Mechanical affinity quietly unfolded, and his consciousness seeped into the metal—he could "feel" the uniformity of the heat treatment of the shaft, "see" the thickness of the carburized layer on the surface of the gear, and predict the performance of this component under extreme loads.
"Slow down the landing speed by another 20 percent," Wang Zhengyang said, "so that the coefficient of thermal expansion at the shaft end matches the base."
The crane operator adjusts the parameters. The drive shaft slowly descends, precisely aligning with the locating pin on the base. When the last five millimeters are left, Wang Zhengyang extends his hand, his palm lightly pressing against the side of the shaft—this is not physical contact, but rather a fine-tuning of the component's spatial orientation through mechanical affinity.
"Click."
With a soft click, it was perfectly in place.
"This precision..." Li Ruijun checked with a laser rangefinder, his eyes wide. "The coaxiality error is less than 0.01 millimeters. Engineer Wang, your feel for it..."
"Experience," Wang Zhengyang said briefly, then turned to inspect the core components of the power system.
The Longyuan's propulsion system is a hybrid system he meticulously designed:
Diesel main generator set: Two 800 kW marine diesel generators are placed side by side, each equipped with an independent cooling system and exhaust gas treatment device. This is the train's main power source, and the fuel reserve is designed for 30 days of full-load operation.
Supercapacitor array: A black box installed along the side wall of the carriage, storing instantaneous high-power output capacity for starting heavy-duty equipment or weapon systems.
External battery packs: Modular battery compartments have been reserved at the bottom of the fifth and tenth carriages. They are currently vacant, with plans to "recycle" high-density lithium batteries from new energy vehicles after the apocalypse.
Electric drive system: Each carriage's bogie integrates a high-power hub motor, coordinated by a central electronic control system. This is the train's silent operation mode—when concealment is required, the diesel engines can be shut off, and the train can travel at low speeds entirely on battery power.
Tracked Auxiliary System: This is the true trump card of the Longyuan train. When the train needs to leave the tracks and traverse complex terrain, the hydraulically driven track modules will descend from the bottom of the carriages, supporting the entire train. The control core of this system is being installed in the eleventh carriage.
Wang Zhengyang's palm rested on the casing of the diesel generator. His mechanical affinity seeped into the machine, allowing him to assess the condition of every critical component: the wear on the cylinder walls, the turbocharger bearing clearance, the fuel injector atomization...
"Unit 1, the injection pressure in cylinder 3 is 5 percent too low," he said with his eyes closed. "Unit 2, the turbine response has a 0.3-second delay. Adjustments are needed before operation."
Li Ruijun quickly took notes. This was the third time today that Wang Zhengyang had pointed out a potential problem that he had completely missed.
While inspecting the power system, Wang Zhengyang was already planning for the more distant future—nuclear power conversion.
The empty space in the rear half of the fifth carriage was reserved for this ultimate goal. In his previous life, he had seen the mobile miniature nuclear reactor that the military deployed in the second year after the apocalypse, with an output power of five megawatts and fuel rods that could operate for ten years. If he could obtain that technology, or at least the key components…
But that's a story for later. Right now, let's complete the basic renovations.
At 10:00 AM, the interference arrived precisely on time.
Three dilapidated Mercedes vans wobbled into the marshalling yard, screeching as they braked. The doors swung open, and eight or nine dark brown-skinned men stepped out, typical North Indian features, dressed in brightly colored synthetic shirts. The leader was short, with a thick mustache, and the gold chain around his neck gleamed cheaply in the sunlight.
"Li! Li Ruijun!" the man with the small mustache shouted in heavily accented German, "Come out and talk!"
Li Ruijun emerged from the eleventh carriage, his face grim. He walked over to Wang Zhengyang and whispered, "Rajish Singh, the owner of the illegal processing plant in India. He's been giving us trouble lately."
Wang Zhengyang nodded and stepped forward. His steps were steady, and his eyes were frighteningly calm.
"This is a private workspace," Wang Zhengyang said in fluent German, his voice low but each word clear. "Please leave."
Rajish grinned, revealing a set of teeth stained red with betel nut: "Private? Such a big project, can't you just hand it over to that guy surnamed Li? Do the workers have legal status? What if they get arrested halfway through? Delaying the project is a serious matter."
The men behind him moved forward in unison, their hands seemingly touching their lower backs. Although Wang Zhengyang's mechanical intuition couldn't perceive things that far, his experience told him—these men were armed.
"Don't worry about the timing," Wang Zhengyang said. "This is the last time, I'm leaving."
Rajesh's smile vanished. "Chinese, you probably don't know who I am. I have twenty brothers in Berlin. There's nothing I can't find out. For example..." He deliberately dragged out his words, "...those illegal workers in Boss Li's factory?"
The atmosphere suddenly became tense.
Wang Zhengyang suddenly laughed. It wasn't a gentle laugh, but a cold, mocking laugh.
"Rajs Singh," he said, "you have a warehouse in Neukölln filled with substandard tools smuggled from Poland. You were audited by the tax authorities last week and had to pay 80,000 euros in back taxes. Your biggest customer is Hassan from Turkey, but he told you last week that the next shipment needs a 15% price reduction, or he'll switch suppliers."
With each sentence he spoke, Rajish's face paled further. Some of this information came from intelligence Wang Zhengyang obtained from Li Ming, while some was gathered by Li Ruijun in the past two days; but combined, it produced a startling deterrent effect.
"You, how could you..." Rajish's voice began to tremble.
Wang Zhengyang took a step forward, only half a meter away from Rajish: "I also know that the gun on your waist is a Czech CZ83 copy, the rifling is almost worn down. The fat guy to your right has a switchblade in his pocket, the handle is cracked. All of you combined aren't worth a single part of my car."
As he spoke, his right hand shot out with lightning speed. Rajish didn't even see the movement clearly before he felt a lightness on his lower back—the gun was already in Wang Zhengyang's hand.
Wang Zhengyang removed the magazine with one hand, and seven 9mm bullets clattered to the ground. Then he gripped the barrel and twisted it with both hands—with a screeching sound of metal twisting, the barrel was twisted into a pretzel shape.
"Trash." He threw the scrap metal at Rajish's feet. "Take your men and get out of here. Go back and tell the person who sent you that this project was arranged by Boss Zhang Yiqiang. If you dare to come any closer, you know the consequences."
"Zhang, Zhang Yiqiang?" Rajish's eyes widened, and cold sweat instantly soaked through his shirt.
In Berlin's underworld, the name Zhang Yiqiang represents someone you absolutely cannot mess with.
"Now, get out," Wang Zhengyang said finally.
Rajish felt like he'd been granted a pardon. He didn't even dare pick up the broken gun on the ground, and scrambled with his men onto the truck. The three vans fled in a sorry state, kicking up a cloud of dust.
The marshalling yard returned to silence. But Wang Zhengyang knew this was just the beginning.