The sky curtain makes you a useless class monitor, yet you act arbitrarily for eternity?

Amidst the playful banter between Yan Cong and Su Xiaoxiao, the sky darkened for a moment.

soon.

The light that had sunk back to its zenith shone again.

This time, before the visuals even appeared, the sound blasted into everyone's ears.

"Buzzing—"

The ear-piercing roar of the machines instantly drowned out the noise at Jinling Wuzhong.

Many students subconsciously frowned.

That sound was too loud.

It was so loud it made my eardrums throb and my head go numb.

Immediately afterwards, a roar of exhaustion and anger was forced out from the roar.

"You can't even do such a simple procedure right!"

"What use are you all?!"

"Tell me what you think!"

"Is there ever a product that you've approved on the first try?"

"ah?!"

The camera zooms in.

In the office, a young man in his thirties leaned back in the boss's chair, his face extremely pale.

Two people were sitting on the sofa in front of him.

One of them was the young Yan Cong.

The boy kept his head down.

His work clothes were covered in machine oil, and there was still some cutting fluid on the cuffs that hadn't been wiped off. His hair was lying on its back in a mess.

I sat there, barely having the strength to even lift my head.

The young man stared at them for a long time, then suddenly laughed in anger.

Are these things difficult?

"For a three-axis machining process, the salary I pay isn't low, is it?"

"7,000 base salary, social security contributions, and accommodation provided."

"Being placed outside, this treatment is considered acceptable, isn't it?"

"Why can't you all be a little more careful?"

Yan Cong pursed his lips and remained silent.

The coworker next to him also had his head down.

Both of them knew that saying anything now would be useless.

Wrong is wrong.

After being scolded, go back to work.

Seeing their expressions, the young man felt a surge of anger rising within him, unable to vent it or vent it.

Finally, he waved his hand weakly.

"Alright, alright."

"Go out."

"Be more careful in the future."

"Um."

"Okay, let's code."

The two responded and got up to leave the office.

The door closed.

The noise outside immediately increased.

Four CNC machine tools were lined up in the workshop, their bodies covered in oil, and the floor was full of iron filings and stains that couldn't be cleaned off.

The people here privately call it the Deadly CNC.

It could really be fatal.

Working night shifts for too long can wear down your very soul.

"Ugh, I got attacked again!"

As soon as he stepped outside, his coworker couldn't help but curse.

"I really don't know what he's cursing about."

"This type of machining is a sunset industry in this martial arts era."

"It's already good enough that someone does things for him, yet he keeps complaining all the time."

He became increasingly agitated as he spoke, and pointed to those machines.

"Leaving aside this kind of industrial knowledge, the length of time the memory is retained depends on the strength of each person's mental strength."

"Let's say we're each in charge of a shift, and we have to adjust the equipment and turn it on."

"He wanted twenty-five products, so we only ordered twenty-five raw materials."

"Would it kill you to stock up on extra spare parts?"

"Grass!"

The coworkers kept cursing from the side.

Yan Cong waited until he finished speaking before picking up the handover book.

His voice was soft, dry from not having slept all night.

"Unit 1, the standard armor components are fine, just start it."

"Unit 2, the arrowhead for the Northern Army's training bows, we just got one out. The size should be fine. You can fix it later."

"Unit 3 is broken and can't be turned on, so leave it for now."

"I've adjusted unit number four to halfway."

"The dumbbells I'm using are the ones used in the gravity chamber at Nanjing Wuzhong High School."

"Weigh yourself when you come out, see if it's 200 jin (100 kg)."

His coworker glanced at him.

Only then did they notice that Yan Cong's face was extremely pale.

His eyes were bluish, and his lips were pale.

Despite his cursing, he eventually nodded.

"OK."

"You should go back and rest."

"You must be tired after working the night shift."

"it is good."

Yan Cong handed over the record board.

"I'm leaving this to you."

He clocked out of get off work.

The moment I stepped out of the factory gate, the light from outside rushed in.

The sun at eight in the morning was so bright that it was hard to open one's eyes.

Yan Cong raised his hand to block it, squinted and stood there for a while before he slowly got used to it.

"well……"

"What's with this feeling of being released from a cage?"

He chuckled self-deprecatingly and dragged his heavy legs toward the dormitory.

Beyond the sky.

The comments section started scrolling.

"Holy crap, that sound made me go numb."

"My dad used to work in a factory, and he said the night shift is really tough."

"So, Old Master Yan used to live this kind of life?"

"Don't forget, he also needed to save money for his grandmother's medical treatment at that time."

"Seven thousand a month sounds like a lot, but when I think about the treatment cost starting at two hundred thousand, I feel suffocated."

In the video.

Yan Cong walked very slowly.

There are breakfast stalls outside the factory area.

The fried dough sticks were fresh out of the fryer, and the soy milk was steaming hot.

Several workers who had just finished their shift sat on plastic stools, eating and cursing their boss.

Yan Cong glanced at it and paused for half a second.

In the end, it didn't work out.

He touched his phone in his pocket, then pulled his hand back.

Save a little.

Let's save a little more.

A monthly salary of seven thousand.

If I give up social security, the factory will give me an extra 800 yuan.

The factory provides accommodation; you need to buy your own groceries and cook your own meals.

All in all, I can save seven thousand a month.

He calculates this score in his mind every day.

It's Grandma's medicine.

I'm calculating the cost of learning weapon crafting later.

I wonder when I'll finally be free from standing next to the machine, getting yelled at and having to nod in agreement.

The machining industry is one of the few remaining industrial remnants that survived the technological regression of a century ago.

High-end technology is gone.

Many standard weapons can no longer be mass-produced and die-cast as they were in the old days.

We can only produce them one by one, slowly using the machine.

Yan Cong came here not just for the salary.

He wanted to see it for himself.

What exactly is the difference between weapons produced by machines and those forged by a true master craftsman?

He doesn't want to stay here forever.

He wanted to go out.

I want to make money.

I want to cure my grandmother.

I want to one day make something of myself.

The camera followed him back to his dormitory.

The dormitory is not big.

A bed, a table, and a wardrobe.

The walls were a bit damp, and a few faded clothes were draped by the window.

Yan Cong tossed the keys onto the table and was just about to grab his clothes to take a shower.

"Ding-dong."

The phone rang.

Followed by.

"Ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong—"

A string of messages popped up.

Yan Cong paused for a moment, then picked up his phone.

It was Liang Rumeng.

【Moshi moshi~】

Baby~ I miss you so much~

[Emoji (lying on the bed with one hand paddling)]

[Emoji (The cow has fallen)]

【Baby~ Are you off work yet?】

[Let me tell you, I'm so bored at my aunt's. She asked me to cook, and I made porridge!]

[Emoji (Frustrated!)]

She even laughed at me! I'm so angry!

Does anyone know how much water to add...?

【Hmm? Baby, why aren't you replying? Are you too tired and have fallen asleep?】

[Emoji (Cow Stalking)]

[Emoji (lying down helplessly)]

[If your baby is asleep, please reply to this message when they wake up!]

【otherwise……】

[Emoji (I'll bite you to death)]