"Ah!!! We did it." Qiao Cheng excitedly hugged a male comrade, shouting with joy.
The male comrade, equally stirred, hugged Qiao Cheng back, tears brimming in his eyes.
"We succeeded, this is fantastic! Who says we can't have our own machines? Here it is, isn't it?!"
As these words were spoken, the crowd's mood varied, some were excited and proud, others bittersweet and complex.
Until—
Old Yang's eyes fixed on the red flag hung inside the factory building as his aged yet steadfast voice echoed gently.
"Arise, ye who refuse to be slaves; with our very flesh and blood, let us build a new Great Wall..."
He had barely sung one line when the noisy factory fell silent.
Everyone began to sing in unison.
Lin Tang could hardly bear such a scene; she sang along, but her eyes couldn't stop tearing up.
She remembered in the future, when she saved money for a long time to go to the Capital specifically to see the flag-raising ceremony.
