Ethan Chen had always carried a deep sense of guilt toward his parents. In his previous life, when he felt life had lost all meaning, he chose to end it himself.
Now, in this second chance he'd been given, his parents were still alive. That simple fact filled him with a sense of gratitude—and determination. He was resolved to repay them, to make up for the regrets he had carried for so long.
"Why are you at the factory?"
His father motioned for him to sit, casting a curious look as he settled down beside Ethan.
"Dad, I need to borrow some of the equipment in the factory. I want to build something."
"You want to build something?"
His dad blinked at him like he'd just declared he was going to the moon. He instinctively reached out to check Ethan's forehead.
Ethan chuckled and batted his father's hand away, trying to keep a straight face. "Dad, I'm twenty. I'm not a kid anymore."
"Yeah, twenty…" his dad said thoughtfully, nodding. "That's about the right age to start dating."
"…Right," Ethan muttered. Parents. No matter where you are in the world, they always find a way to bring that up.
But he wasn't here to talk about his love life.
"I designed a blueprint," Ethan said, doing his best to sound confident. "And I want to build the design to see if it works."
Even though the words felt a bit forced coming out of his mouth, they were true.
"You… drew up blueprints?"
This time, his dad was the one left speechless. He stared at his son, incredulous. He knew his boy well. Since childhood, Ethan had never shown any real academic ability. Lazy, fond of junk food, allergic to discipline—if the family hadn't been financially comfortable, the kid would've likely flunked out or wound up working odd jobs by now.
And now this same kid was talking about technical design? Engineering blueprints?
What did he draw—a paper airplane?
"It's a toy gun," Ethan explained calmly. Then, without fanfare, he pulled a USB drive from his pocket and set it on the desk.
The so-called "toy gun" was actually a heavily modified version of a real M4. But after some creative engineering with help from the Huaqiangbei System, he'd transformed it into something quite unique.
The materials were different—replacing the metal alloy body with high-quality plastic—and the bullets were now soft plastic spheres, propelled by an internal spring-loaded mechanism to generate kinetic energy.
It had all the form and function of a firearm, but with none of the danger. It looked and behaved like a real weapon, but everything about it classified it legally as a toy.
"Interesting," his father said with a raised eyebrow. He still didn't seem to take it seriously, but curiosity got the better of him. He plugged the USB drive into his office computer to take a look.
Ethan had picked up the flash drive at a cheap electronics stall downtown. Once he had it, he uploaded the toy gun schematics directly from the Huaqiangbei System and came straight to the factory.
His father opened the file directory, eyes widening slightly.
"Huh. This actually looks… well done."
The USB was packed with high-resolution design drawings. Each component was meticulously detailed, every mechanical part labeled and annotated.
His father leaned in, scrolling through the files. "This level of detail must have taken forever. When did you learn to do this?"
"A toy gun usually just needs a few pieces, right?" he continued, scratching his head. "A barrel, maybe a stock, a magazine, and a trigger. But this… you've got dozens—hundreds—of components here. Why so complex?"
"Heh, that's something else I was hoping to explain," Ethan said with a sheepish grin. Then he straightened his posture, his tone turning serious.
"I've been reading some technical manuals on firearm mechanics at the local library these past few days. I got interested, and I decided to try sketching up my own design. I think it's pretty solid. Now I just want to build it and test it out."
There was a long silence.
"So… this is a real gun?" his father whispered, glancing around to make sure no one else was within earshot. "You realize if this is real, you could go to jail? This is China, Ethan."
"I know. That's why I made sure it's plastic—classified as a toy. I'm not planning to sell it. I'm not mass-producing anything. I just want to see if I actually have a talent for this kind of thing."
Just producing such an intricate set of blueprints was already proof of talent. His dad could see that.
"The factory's machines can handle metal too, if needed," Ethan added. "But for this, plastic is enough. It keeps things legal."
His father stared at him in thought. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Alright. You can use the equipment… but on one condition. Every part must be produced separately—in different batches—and reassembled here in private. No one else must know. And not a single blueprint can be shared outside this room. Understand?"
He wasn't messing around. His voice was low and serious.
This wasn't just about Ethan's curiosity. If someone caught wind of this and misunderstood it as an attempt to produce firearms, it could lead to a legal disaster.
Still, if his son was trying to prove himself, he had no choice but to support him. And truth be told… he was more than a little curious about this toy gun himself.
"Dad, you're overthinking it," Ethan said, cracking a small smile. "We're not breaking any laws here, right? The factory pays its taxes. We don't take bribes. We follow the rules. I'm not selling anything or using this for criminal purposes."
"I just designed something. If it works, great. If not, no harm done. Either way, I've done nothing wrong."
"And who knows? If the design really is useful, we could hand it over to the government and get some recognition for it. At the very least, people might start calling me a gifted designer."
That was the real goal.
Because honestly, who designs a functioning prototype of a firearm from scratch just by reading a few books?
If that's not genius, what is?
Ethan needed that title. Not for vanity—but because only a recognized genius would have the credibility to speak to the military. Only a genius could one day build something that rivaled Tony Stark's legacy.
Only a genius gets a seat at the table.
His father sat quietly for a moment, then finally nodded. "Alright. Let's give it a try."
Ethan's reasoning made sense. They weren't doing anything shady. They were honest, law-abiding citizens running a modest business. If this toy gun turned out to be something impressive, it could validate Ethan's skills in a big way.
And even if Ethan's college diploma had been, well… purchased… this kind of innovation couldn't be faked.
That kind of knowledge doesn't come from a classroom.
His father sat back in his chair, a sense of pride starting to build in his chest.
More than anything, what he wanted wasn't money or fame for his son—it was a future.
If Ethan could contribute something valuable to the country, however small, that was something to be proud of.
That would be enough.