I started with a ship full of max-level veterans, and I'm just a complete noob.

The rejection notice was transferred back from the administrative department at nine o'clock the next morning.

Factory Director Zhang's signature and the approval number from the Confidentiality and Security Department were both present.

The reason given was only one line: Workshop No. 1 is a top-secret air defense project, and without approval from the Confidentiality and Security Department at each level, no personnel other than those working on this project are allowed to enter.

Xu Chongwen's application to visit was thus blocked at the first door.

When the news reached Workshop No. 1, Jiang Ming was squatting under the test bench, checking the oxidation of the wiring terminals.

Xiao Zhao held the phone for half a minute, then put it down and walked over to quietly relay what the administrative department had said.

Jiang Ming grunted in response but did not come out from under the testing platform.

He reached out and fiddled with the wiring harness, then shone a flashlight on the edge of the terminals to make sure they weren't loose before handing the tools to Da Liu next to him.

"understood."

Only this sentence.

Xiao Zhao stood there for two seconds, as if he wanted to ask something, but in the end he swallowed his words and turned back to the record table.

Right now, no one in Workshop No. 1 has time to pay attention to Xu Chongwen.

499nd hour.

The readings of the five microammeters showed almost no change compared to three days ago, five days ago, and even one hundred hours ago.

乙零一，284.0。

乙零二，284.1。

乙零三, 281.0.

B04, 283.5.

乙零五，283.6。

When Xiao Zhao copied this set of data onto the curve paper, his fingers were a little unsteady.

He tightened and loosened the pen cap two or three times, and finally simply put down the pen and used a pencil to draw dots instead.

"It's the last hour."

He didn't turn around, his voice muffled, as if afraid that if he spoke too harshly, the watch hands would tremble.

Old Sun sat on a low stool next to the pulse transformer, his legs stretched out, clutching the adjustable wrench that had been with him for over a decade.

He didn't reply, but occasionally flipped the wrench in his palm, the metal making a slight clicking sound as it touched his calloused hands.

Da Liu stood guard next to the automatic shower line, having already filled the cooling water tank and wiped the storage bottle clean.

The bottle was actually clean, but he still had to do something with it.

Jiang Ming stood up from under the testing platform, dusted off his knees, walked to the control panel and leaned against it, putting his hands into his work clothes pockets and his gaze falling on the microammeter of the Yi Ling San.

This pipe was the most nerve-wracking one from beginning to end.

The old substrate was damaged, and the water quality was rich in impurities, resulting in a lower emission current of three microamps compared to the other four.

But it held on.

Since the repair began, over the past 500 hours, the difference of those three microamperes has not increased.

Xiao Zhao broke the last 60 minutes into twelve five-minute intervals.

Every five minutes, he would look down and write down a set of numbers, then look up at Jiang Ming again.

Jiang Ming's gaze remained fixed on the dial, and he didn't look at him.

3:15 PM.

3:20.

Xiao Zhao's pen wrote the last set of data on the graph paper.

The pen tip lingered on the paper for two seconds.

For those two seconds, Workshop No. 1 was so quiet that only the hum of the testing equipment and the muffled sound of steam flowing through the pipes of the boiler room in the distance could be heard.

Then, he took out the red ink pen from his breast pocket and drew a line under the last set of numbers.

"five hundred."

His voice was a little hoarse, as if it had been stuck in his throat the whole way before finally being squeezed out.

Old Sun slammed the wrench in his hand onto the metal toolbox lid with a loud "bang," startling Da Liu.

Old Sun himself was also stunned for a moment, as if he hadn't expected to cause such a commotion.

Da Liu ran over from the shower line, his feet stomping loudly on the concrete.

"Passed? Really passed?"

No one answered him.

Jiang Ming straightened up from the control panel and walked to the front of the test platform.

He didn't speak, but simply looked at the microammeter readings of the five tubes one by one from left to right.

284.0.

284.1.

281.0.

283.5.

283.6.

He looked down and opened the notebook, finding the data for the 300th hour.

284.1.

284.0.

281.2.

283.5.

283.5.

Within a 500-hour lifespan, the maximum deviation does not exceed ±0.2 microamps.

All five pipes are above the military product acceptance line.

The stability dispersion is within ±0.5 microamps.

He read out the numbers one by one, his voice not loud, but every word could be heard clearly in Workshop No. 1.

After reciting the last one, Old Sun had already stood up, still clutching the wrench in his hand.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he just took a deep breath, threw the wrench into the toolbox, and walked to the window.

Xiao Zhao's pen cap was never put on, and the red ink slowly dried into a dark color on the nib.

He stared at the red line on the curved paper for a long time before remembering to screw the pen cap back on.

"Jiang Gong."

His voice was still hoarse.

When will the acceptance report be written?

"tonight."

Footsteps could be heard at the workshop entrance.

Jiang Ming turned his head and saw Wu Hanzhang standing there.

The chief engineer was holding a blank form stamped with a red seal. It was unclear when he arrived; perhaps he had been standing there for a long time, or perhaps he had just arrived.

"Finished running?" Wu Hanzhang asked.

"I'm done running."

Wu Hanzhang walked to the testing table, placed the blank acceptance form flat on the table, and then took out a pen from his shirt pocket and handed it to Jiang Ming.

"Fill out the data and get it signed first. I'll go back and arrange for the acceptance team to start the formal process tomorrow."

Jiang Ming took the pen and wrote the date in the first column of the acceptance form: November X, 1955.

He paused for a moment when the pen tip landed on the "Test Duration" column.

Then write down: 500 hours.

After Wu Hanzhang waited for him to finish filling in the first three columns, he carefully put away the acceptance form, folded it twice, and put it into his briefcase.

Before leaving, he patted Jiang Ming on the shoulder with considerable force.

"See you tomorrow."

Jiang Ming nodded without saying anything more.

Over the next few hours, Workshop No. 1 returned to its daily rhythm.

Old Sun performed a final comprehensive inspection of the pulse transformer and neatly copied the data onto the last page of the maintenance record.

Xiao Zhao took the complete 500-hour curve paper off the record board, clipped it with cardboard, sealed it, and put it in the safe, locking it twice.

Da Liu performed final maintenance on the automatic rinsing line, checking and labeling each spare filler bag and stacking them at the bottom of the drying box.

No one celebrated, and no one left early.

At six o'clock in the evening, the sound of a car engine could be heard coming from the direction of the factory gate.

Old Sun heard it first and immediately looked out the window.

"A black Jeep, the brand belongs to the ministry."

Jiang Ming put down the draft of the acceptance report in his hand and stood up.

Three minutes later, Director Wang appeared at the entrance of Workshop No. 1.

He was wearing a dark gray Zhongshan suit, with all the buttons fastened neatly from top to bottom, and his face was expressionless.

After entering, he didn't greet anyone and went straight to the testing table.

The dark red filament light from the five B-type tubes shone on his face.

He glanced down at the reading on the instrument panel, then at the handwritten label Xiao Zhao had stuck on the edge of the table: 500th hour, test complete.

Then he turned around.

Five people were standing in Workshop No. 1.

Jiang Ming leaned against the control panel, Lao Sun was next to the tool cabinet on the south side, Xiao Zhao sat at the record table, Da Liu was at the end of the washing line, and Wu Hanzhang had returned at some point and was standing inside the workshop door.

Director Wang's gaze swept across the faces of the group, and he said, "On behalf of the ministry, I would like to extend my congratulations to all the comrades in Workshop No. 1."

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried far in the workshop.

"The 500-hour life test of the Type B improved tube was a complete success. The acceptance report will be submitted tonight, and the formal delivery process will begin tomorrow."

Xiao Zhao clenched his fist under the table, then relaxed it.

Old Sun switched the wrench from his right hand to his left hand, then back to his right hand, and pursed his lips.

Director Wang paused for two seconds, as if waiting for them to process the first thing.

Then, he lowered his voice.

The humming in the workshop suddenly seemed exceptionally clear, making his next words sound as if they were coming from beneath the mechanical noise.

"The second thing."

He looked into Jiang Ming's eyes.

"Tomorrow morning, the Security Department will formally summon Hsu Chung-wen and his assistant."

This time, Old Sun didn't drop the wrench, but he gripped it even tighter.

Da Liu opened his mouth, but Xiao Zhao stopped him with a look.

"The reasons go beyond just Workshop No. 1."

Director Wang said the last sentence very softly, as if he were just saying it casually.

But Jiang Ming understood.

It's not just about the dispute over venue, academic obstruction, or attacks related to security incidents.

There were also light blue patterned notepads, the third-floor corridor of the material allocation department, the signature that shouldn't have appeared on September 13th, and the hidden line leading from the East Suburb Chemical Plant to the three iron barrels at the base of the foundry wall.

Director Wang did not say another word.

He nodded to Wu Hanzhang and turned to walk out.

The sound of leather shoes hitting the cement floor faded away, one beat at a time.

The lights in Workshop One cast his long shadow across the oil stains and chalk marks on the ground, eventually disappearing beyond the door frame.

Jiang Ming looked down at the half-finished draft of the acceptance report in his hand.

Five hundred hours.

Five pipes.

Not one is missing.

And tomorrow, another round of raids will begin.