Volume 1, Chapter 9: Nonsense

When Du Yuze appeared again at the workshop entrance, carrying that dark silver metal plate, Li Guodong was squatting there, smoking a cheap cigarette. Smoke swirled around him, making him squint.

“Bang!”

Du Yuze threw the metal plate onto the ground, the heavy thud echoing through the empty workshop, stirring a cloud of dust.

“Material,” he said simply.

Li Guodong stood up, flicked the cigarette butt, and crushed it under his shoe. He said nothing, circling the metal plate like a lone wolf sizing up its prey.

“Where did this come from?” he asked skeptically.

“From the No. 3 scrap warehouse.”

“Nonsense!” Li Guodong flatly denied it. “I’ve been inside that warehouse hundreds of times. It’s nothing but rust and rat droppings in there. There’s no treasure like this!”

Du Yuze showed no interest in arguing. He just looked at Li Guodong calmly, waiting.

Li Guodong snorted coldly, turned, and walked into the depths of the workshop. He soon returned, holding a coarse iron file. Squatting down, he scraped fiercely at one corner of the metal plate.

“Scrrrr—”

The harsh sound of metal grinding rang out, sparks flying.

After just a moment, Li Guodong stopped. He leaned closer, picking up some of the metal dust between his rough fingers.

He fell silent.

Then he stood, walked to an old grinding machine in the corner, and laboriously started it up. The grinding wheel hummed loudly. He lifted the heavy metal plate effortlessly and brought one corner to the high-speed spinning wheel.

“Ssshhh—!”

A dazzling burst of white sparks shot out, bright enough to blind.

The grinding wheel’s roar ceased.

Only a deathly silence remained in the workshop.

Li Guodong dropped the metal plate, staring blankly at the instantaneously cooled grind marks. He muttered unconsciously, “Bright white, short lines, branching... it really is TC4…”

He suddenly turned his head sharply, locking eyes with Du Yuze. The expression on his face was not one of joy but of encountering a ghost.

“Who the hell are you?”

“A man who wants to fix the engine,” Du Yuze replied without a hint of hesitation.

Li Guodong’s chest heaved violently. He had countless questions but not a single word came out. The very existence of this material was the biggest impossibility.

Finally, he waved his hand as if making a firm decision. “Fine! I’m in! But I warn you, once you step through this door, you follow my orders! If I say east, you don’t go west!”

“Understood.”

“And you can’t do this alone.” Li Guodong called out to the other end of the workshop. “Pang Qingquan, where the hell are you? Get over here!”

Soon, a young man in his early twenties jogged over, his face smudged with grease. “Master, what’s up?”

“From today on, don’t do anything else. Stick with him.” Li Guodong pointed at Du Yuze. “Do whatever he asks. And keep an eye on him—don’t let him tear apart my lathe!”

Pang Qingquan glanced between Li Guodong and Du Yuze, nodding in confusion. “Okay.”

Thus, the temporary team was formed.

Their goal was the oldest and only barely operational high-precision lathe in the workshop, the C620.

“We’re using this?” Pang Qingquan looked at the dusty, rust-covered machine nervously.

“What else?” Li Guodong kicked the machine’s base. “You think the factory director’s going to give you a new one? Get to work! Clean those rails first!”

The workshop soon turned into a battlefield.

Li Guodong acted like a fiery general, commanding everything.

“Where’s the oil? Machine oil! I said not grease!”

“That gasket’s been worn down by 0.3 millimeters. Are you deaf?”

“Pang Qingquan, are your hands growing from your feet? Steady!”

Pang Qingquan was overwhelmed by the scolding, fumbling about.

Du Yuze worked silently. He cleaned oil lines, checked circuits, and replaced worn bearings. His movements weren’t fast but each was terrifyingly precise, as if he knew the position of every screw with his eyes closed.

---

“The spindle box clearance is off,” Du Yuze suddenly said.

“Tell me something I don’t know!” Li Guodong shouted without looking up as he adjusted the tool post. “It’s worn down nearly twenty years, of course it’s off!”

“You can use the cross-shimming method,” Du Yuze explained. “Add copper shims of 0.02 and 0.05 millimeters under the No. 3 and No. 7 bearing housings respectively. That’ll compensate for most of the wear.”

Li Guodong froze. He turned, eyeing Du Yuze suspiciously. “Where’d you hear that nonsense?”

“Try it and you’ll see.”

Li Guodong stared at him for a solid thirty seconds, then reluctantly dug out copper sheets and a micrometer from the toolbox and began making shims.

Half an hour later, when the spindle box was reassembled, a dial indicator showed the movement was negligible.

Pang Qingquan let out a small gasp.

Li Guodong’s face flushed red and white. After a long pause, he muttered, “A blind cat’s caught a dead mouse.”

But he no longer stopped Du Yuze from offering “odd” suggestions.

The machine’s restoration advanced at an astonishing pace. Two days later, the old C620 roared to life with a smooth and powerful hum, like a decades-old ox roused from slumber.

Machining officially began.

Du Yuze handled the core blade surface calculations and feed control, while Li Guodong used his masterful hands for the final manual fine-tuning and polishing.

Only the sound of cutting and occasional exchanges filled the workshop.

“Feed slower, five thousandths.”

“Angle off by half a degree.”

“Stop.”

Pang Qingquan watched, overwhelmed. The rough metal plate gradually revealed its complex contours amid flying coolant and metal shavings. It was a design full of power and industrial beauty; every curve the result of precise calculation.

After another day and night, the last blade was finished.

When twelve blades, identical in size, shape, and weight, were neatly arranged on the workbench, even the usually harsh Li Guodong showed rare satisfaction.

“Beautiful,” he said, simply.

Pang Qingquan’s face flushed with excitement. “Master, we did it!”

“Not yet,” Li Guodong’s expression grew serious again. “The hardest part’s still ahead.”

He pointed toward the welding station in the corner.

“This thing has to be welded onto the wheel. Titanium alloy welding requires precise temperature, speed, and gas protection. One slip up and it’s over.”

He donned a heavy welding mask and picked up the torch, signaling Du Yuze and Pang Qingquan to step back.

“Watch closely.”

He expertly started the argon arc welder. A ghostly blue arc danced at the torch tip. Carefully, he aimed the arc at the seam between the blade and the wheel.

“Pfft! Pfft!”

The arc was unstable. A gray-black oxide layer quickly formed at the weld point, and the metal slightly warped.

Li Guodong immediately stopped and lifted his mask.

His expression was grim.

“No good,” he shook his head. “This crappy machine’s current is too unstable, and the gas isn’t pure enough. Weld it this way and it’ll break before it even spins!”

He tried again, adjusting the current and gas flow.

The result was worse. High heat even burned through the thin blade edges.

“Clang!”

Li Guodong threw the torch down in fury.

“Can’t do it! I told you it can’t be done!” He pointed at the exquisite blades, his chest heaving. “The material’s great, the parts are perfect! But the final step—the tools can’t keep up! It’s just a pile of scrap! Beautiful scrap!”

His pride and professionalism shattered by the crude equipment.

The workshop’s atmosphere froze. Pang Qingquan was too scared to speak.

Du Yuze looked at the raging Li Guodong, then at the blades infused with their hard work.

He remained calm.

Because he knew it was his turn.

[System: Redeeming “High-Precision Laser Welding Torch (Single Use)”. Confirm using 50 points.]

[Points: 50. Remaining points: 50.]

[Item has been delivered to the designated location.]

Du Yuze ignored Li Guodong’s roars and walked to a rusted metal cabinet deep in the workshop, piled with junk. The cabinet hadn’t been touched in decades and had a rusted lock hanging on it.

“What are you doing?” Li Guodong asked irritably.

“Looking for something.”

Du Yuze stopped and pretended to rummage. From under a pile of old gloves and blueprints, he pulled out a black plastic toolbox.

The box was dusty but looked newer than the surrounding clutter.

He opened it.

Inside lay an unusually designed welding torch. Matte black, much smaller than a conventional torch, its sleek lines seemed more like a prop from a sci-fi film.

He carried the torch back and placed it on the workbench.

“Try using this.”

Li Guodong and Pang Qingquan were stunned.

“What’s this?” Li Guodong picked up the torch, weighing it in his hand. It was surprisingly light. “Where did it come from?”

“Found it at the bottom of the cabinet,” Du Yuze replied tersely.

“Nonsense!” Li Guodong immediately objected. “I know every tool in this factory. I’ve never seen this before! It doesn’t even have a brand!”

Pang Qingquan leaned in quietly. “Master, this thing looks... brand new. Like it just came off the line.”

Li Guodong’s suspicion deepened, his gaze flickering between Du Yuze and the strange torch.

Du Yuze met his stare and challenged, “Time’s short. Do you want to keep arguing about where it came from, or weld this thing properly?”

His words struck a nerve. Li Guodong looked at the failed blades, then the “toy” in his hand, gritted his teeth, and made up his mind.

“Fine! I’ll see what tricks you’ve got up your sleeve!” He put his mask back on, his tone sharp. “If you burn my blades, I’m not letting this go!”

He studied the torch and found its use astonishingly simple—only one button.

With a last-ditch attitude, he aimed the nozzle at another seam and pressed the button.

No blinding arc, no crackling bursts.

A hair-thin red beam emerged, precisely striking the metal joint.

“Hiss…”

A barely audible whisper, and the metal melted and fused visibly fast, forming a smooth, glossy weld seam. No splatter, no deformation. It was as if the metal was being painted with light rather than welded.

Li Guodong’s hand froze.

He stayed still for over ten seconds before slowly moving the torch to complete the entire weld.

He switched off the torch and mechanically lifted his mask.

He picked up the just-welded part, turning it over and over before his eyes.

The weld seam was fine, uniform, and smooth like a silver thread, perfectly blending with the part, almost indistinguishable as a weld.

Pang Qingquan was dumbfounded, stammering, “Th-this…”

Li Guodong ignored him, gently tracing the cold seam with his fingertips as if touching a priceless treasure.

After a long pause, he exhaled heavily, speaking in a dreamy, incredulous tone mixed with shock.

“Damn… this weld scar’s as pretty as a woman’s embroidery!”

Then he suddenly lifted his head, no longer looking at the part, but locking onto Du Yuze with eyes sharp as knives.