Courtyard House: A Major Power's Heavy Industry, Hand-Crafted Nuclear Fusion

The project has been approved, and grand pronouncements have been made.

But when Su Zheng and more than a hundred technicians actually stood in front of the empty waste warehouse the next day, everyone understood what the phrase "hellish start" meant.

too poor.

We are really too poor.

The iron curtain of Western technological blockade acts like an invisible wall, cutting off the source of all high-tech equipment. Meanwhile, China's domestic industrial base is so weak it's almost heartbreaking.

The core components that Su Zheng needed—high-precision hydraulic servo valves, photoelectric sensors, logic relay groups—were not even seen in China at that time, let alone produced.

"Engineer Su, the purchasing department has responded."

Technician Xiao Liu came running over with a long face, holding a crumpled list in his hand. "Forget about photoelectric switches, we can't even find a complete set of qualified microswitches. They've searched every hardware store in Beijing, and this is the only one they could find..."

Xiao Liu opened his hand, revealing a heavy, dark bakelite knife switch in his palm.

"If this thing were mounted on a robotic arm, it would probably fall apart before the robotic arm even moves."

The technicians around him were also dejected.

"What should we do? Even a skilled cook can't cook without rice."

"Exactly, there isn't even a decent part. Are they really going to make it by hand?"

"I think we should break up as soon as possible, so we don't embarrass ourselves in three months."

Zhang Defa stood at the back of the crowd, arms crossed, a sneer on his face as he watched a good show. He wanted to see how this Consultant Su would conjure up magic tricks from these scraps of metal.

Su Zheng picked up the knife switch, looked at it, and casually threw it into the waste pile.

"As expected."

There was no trace of frustration on his face; instead, it revealed the excitement of a hunter seeing his prey.

"Who says you have to buy a new one?"

Su Zheng turned around and pointed to the mountain of old, discarded machinery that people considered garbage.

"This is our treasure trove."

He activated the Eye of Truth.

In an instant, the chaotic pile of waste in front of him transformed into a gold mine in his eyes.

Countless data labels emerge on the rusting machines:

[Item: Periscope of a scrapped T-34 tank. Condition: Damaged. Core component: High-purity optical prism. Usability: 85%]

[Item: Soviet-made GAZ truck high-pressure oil pump. Condition: Aging seals. Core component: Precision plunger. Availability: 90%.]

[Item: US-made communications radio (captured in the Korean War). Condition: Circuit burned out. Core components: Variable capacitor, gold-plated contacts. Availability: 95%.]

……

What others see as scrap metal, Su Zheng sees as spirits waiting to be awakened.

"Xiao Liu! Take a few men and remove that tank periscope! Be careful not to break the lenses inside! That's top-quality optical glass; grind it up and you can make a lens for a photoelectric switch!"

"Daqiang! Go over there, to that wrecked truck's oil pump! That's a good piece of stuff! The plunger is high-carbon steel; take it back, grind it finely, and it'll be the power source for our hydraulic system!"

"And that one over there..."

Su Zheng was like a composed general, and also like a sharp-eyed scavenger. He moved through the pile of scrap, occasionally bending down to pick out one or two inconspicuous small parts from the oil stains and rust.

"This! The variable capacitor from a radio! We can modify it to make a displacement sensor!"

"This! The enameled wire inside the relay! Take it out and rewind it!"

Seeing Su Zheng's busy figure, the technicians, who were initially somewhat frustrated, gradually brightened up.

They were infected by Su Zheng's almost fanatical passion.

Yes.

We had no guns or cannons, but the enemy made them for us.

No parts, no watch, we'll find them ourselves in the junkyard!

As long as the mind does not slip, there are always more solutions than difficulties!

"Dry!"

Xiao Liu roared, rolled up his sleeves, and was the first to rush towards the wrecked tank.

"Fuck him!"

More people rushed forward.

The following week, a peculiar and spectacular scene unfolded in the scrap yard of Hongxing Steel Rolling Mill.

More than a hundred intellectuals dressed in white coats and Zhongshan suits, like a group of industrious ants, were dismantling and assembling old machines.

The sounds of hammering, sawing, and cheering rose and fell.

Every disassembled part was wiped clean and sorted out like a precious treasure.

Zhang Defa's mocking expression gradually froze as he watched this scene unfold. He had never seen anything like it before, much less such enthusiasm... treating junk as treasures and working with such fervor.

"These lunatics..." he muttered to himself.

Picking it up is only the first step.

The more difficult part is the processing. It's about transforming these salvaged "semi-finished products" into high-precision components that meet the requirements of automated production lines.

This is a challenge to the limits of human craftsmanship.

In a temperature-controlled laboratory in the technical department (actually, the windows were sealed off and two furnaces were lit).

Su was sitting at a worktable, his eyes pressed tightly against the eyepiece of the microscope.

In his hand was a specially made assorted file, no bigger than a toothpick.

Opposite him sat the factory's only two level-eight fitters—Old Wang and Old Li. These two, who were usually quite arrogant in the workshop, were now sweating profusely and barely daring to breathe.

They are grinding a switch.

A highly sensitive mechanical limit switch.

This is the "nerve ending" of the automated production line. Its contact gap must be controlled within 0.05 millimeters. Its spring force must be accurate to 0.1 Newtons.

Only in this way can it react instantly when the steel plate passes by and transmit the signal to the control cabinet.

"Don't let your hands shake! Keep your breathing steady!"

Su Zheng's voice was hoarse, and his eyes were bloodshot. "Old Wang, your file angle is off by 0.5 degrees! Any more off, and this contact point will be ruined!"

Old Wang's hand trembled.

"Sizzle—"

A very faint, almost inaudible friction sound.

Under the microscope, a scratch appeared on the surface of the contact point, which was only the size of a grain of rice.

"It's ruined."

Su Zheng looked up and ruthlessly threw the part that had been grinding for two days into the waste bin.

"Clatter".

The crisp sound was like a slap across Old Wang's face.

Old Wang, a man in his fifties, instantly had tears in his eyes. He looked at the waste bin, which was already filled with more than a dozen identical pieces of waste.

"Advisor Su...I...I really tried my best..."

Old Wang's voice trembled with tears, "This thing is too small, my eyes are getting blurry, and my hands won't obey me..."

"Try your best?"

Su Zheng looked at him coldly, "On the battlefield, if you tell the enemy you've done your best, do you think they won't fire? In industry, a difference of 0.01 millimeters means scrap! It means an accident! It means death!"

"Take a ten-minute break, wash your face, and start again!"

Su Zheng showed no leniency whatsoever.

At this critical moment, any act of kindness would be a crime against the project.

Old Wang wiped his face without saying a word. He picked up a new piece of material and sat down again.

He also has his pride.

An eighth-grade fitter is at the very top of the industry. How could he be stumped by a simple switch? How could he be looked down upon by a mere kid?

"Again!"

Old Wang gritted his teeth and picked up the file again.

This time, he held his breath. His heartbeat seemed to slow down.

His hand was as steady as a rock.

Once, twice.

The file glides lightly across the metal surface, raising a tiny amount of powder.

Time seemed to stand still.

I don't know how much time passed.

"alright."

Old Wang put down the file, and collapsed into the chair, looking as if he had been pulled out of the water, completely exhausted.

Su Zheng leaned closer to the microscope.

[The Eye of Truth] Scan.

Surface flatness: Ra0.1. Gap: 0.048 mm. Elasticity: 0.102 N.

Verdict: Pass!

Su Zheng suddenly raised his head, a smile appearing on his face for the first time in days.

He picked up the small switch and connected it to the test circuit.

"Click".

A light touch.

The red light is on.

Although the red light was faint, in the dimly lit laboratory, it was like a newly risen morning star, illuminating everyone's faces.

"It's done!!"

Old Li jumped up excitedly.

Looking at the red light, Old Wang finally couldn't stop the tears from flowing. He stretched out his large, calloused hand, wanting to touch the switch, but afraid of breaking it, he could only make a couple of grasping motions in the air.

"This...this was ground by hand?"

"right."

Su Zheng solemnly placed the switch in Lao Wang's palm, "This is a one-of-a-kind switch in the world, carrying the warmth of our Chinese craftsmen."

Once there's a first one, there's bound to be a second.

Over the next two weeks, this almost self-torturing "hand-wrapping" mode spread throughout the entire technical department.

The girls in the optics group used silk cloths dipped in toothpaste to grind the lenses of the periscope repeatedly until their light transmittance reached 99%.

The young men in the hydraulics team meticulously sanded the plungers of the oil pump until they fit perfectly into the pump body without a single leak.

Even Ye Xinyi, who usually only draws, joined in.

Her long, slender hands, which were originally used for playing the piano and calculating formulas, were now holding a soldering iron, dancing across one discarded capacitor after another.

Smoke and fire.

Hands covered in grease.

But her eyes were brighter than ever.

One late night, Su Zheng saw Ye Xinyi lying on the table, staring blankly at a bunch of messy coils.

"What's wrong?" Su Zheng walked over.

"Su Gong".

Ye Xinyi looked up, a speck of black ash on the tip of her nose making her look like a little kitten. "I was thinking, if we had CNC machine tools and precision machining centers, wouldn't these jobs be finished in just a few minutes?"

"Yes." Su Zheng nodded.

"So what we're doing now... isn't that incredibly foolish?" Ye Xinyi looked at her fingers, yellowed from rosin, somewhat bewildered. "Using human lives to fill the holes in machines."

Su Zheng remained silent for a moment.

He reached out and gently wiped the black ash off Ye Xinyi's nose.

"stupid."

"But if we don't make a mistake this time, we'll always be held hostage by others."

Su Zheng pointed to the dark night sky outside the window, "Look at the stars in the sky. That's light from hundreds of millions of light-years away. It took them a very, very long time to travel before they reached us."

"What we are doing now is lighting the first spark in that darkness."

"Even if it's done by hand, even if it's done with one's life, as long as the spark is lit, those who come after will be able to follow the light and find their way."

Ye Xinyi's eyes welled up with tears.

She looked at the man in front of her.

He was younger than her, and he was also made of flesh and blood, but the light in his eyes, the stubbornness with which he stood tall despite bearing the weight of the entire nation, touched her heart and fascinated her.

"Um."

Ye Xinyi nodded vigorously and picked up the soldering iron again.

"Then let's rub it."

"Let's knead out a dawn!"