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

The next morning at 6:30, Old Sun squatted in front of the grinding table.

In front of him were more than a dozen pieces of discarded rubber scraps of varying sizes.

The cast iron grinding disc was polished to a shine, and a dollop the size of a soybean of diamond paste was squeezed out and neatly stacked to the side.

When Jiang Ming pushed the door open and came in, Old Sun had already ruined three pieces of material.

Three arc-shaped scratches of varying depths remain on the grinding disc.

Old Sun's forehead was beaded with sweat, an unlit pipe dangling from his mouth, his face ashen. (＃￣～￣＃)

"Master Sun, so early?"

"I can't sleep."

Without even looking up, Old Sun pressed the fourth piece of waste onto the grinding disc.

He imitated Jiang Ming's technique from yesterday, rotating his wrist in an attempt to draw an arc.

rustling.

Three seconds later, Lao Sun stopped and turned it over to take a look.

There is a visible offset mark on the surface.

"It's ruined."

Old Sun tossed the rubber block aside. (ノ｀Д)ノ

Jiang Ming walked to the grinding table, squatted down and glanced at the surface of the scrap material.

"My right wrist is tilted."

"The starting point of the arc is fine, but when you get to about a third of the way through, the base of your thumb will unconsciously press down."

Old Sun paused for a moment, then looked down at his right hand. (o_o)?

"I've been a fitter for thirty years, and the flat-push motion is a habit ingrained in my bones."

Old Sun, chewing on his pipe, said in a muffled voice:

"You ask me to draw an arc, my brain knows, but my hand won't obey."

"Then let your hand obey."

Jiang Ming picked out a piece from the pile of scraps and handed it to Old Sun:

"continue."

the fifth time.

The arc trajectory is a little better, but the feed rate is too high, resulting in fine scratches on the surface.

The sixth time.

I managed to control the feed rate, but my wrist twisted again.

The seventh time.

Jiang Ming began by saying:

"My right wrist is tilted two degrees."

Old Sun cursed and slammed the scrap material on the table.

(╬◣д◢)

"This lousy job!"

Da Liu and Xiao Li arrived at this time.

The two changed into canvas work clothes and stood at the back, not daring to utter a sound. (；′⌒`)

Old Sun took a couple of deep breaths and picked up a new piece of material.

The eighth time, it failed.

The ninth time, it failed.

The tenth time, it still failed.

All ten scrap pieces were ground into waste.

Old Sun's forehead was covered in sweat, and the veins on the back of his hands were bulging.

Wu Hanzhang entered the workshop at some point.

He stood at the very back, arms crossed, without saying a word.

Jiang Ming squatted down next to Lao Sun, being exceptionally patient.

"The problem with the tenth time isn't in the wrist, it's in the breathing."

"When you were halfway through grinding, you took a breath, your body swayed, and your arm swayed as well."

Old Sun stared intently at Jiang Ming's face, remaining silent for a long time.

"Your observation skills are even sharper than my master's."

Old Sun muttered something under his breath.

The eleventh time.

Jiang Ming spoke again:

"The feed rate is too high."

"Each time should not exceed half a micrometer; this time you exceeded it by at least double."

Old Sun gritted his teeth and turned the scrap over to take a look.

Sure enough, there were very fine scratches on the surface.

"Okay, I understand."

Old Sun fell silent.

He took the pipe out of his mouth, tucked it into his waistband, closed his eyes, and rubbed his hands together.

The twelfth time.

The thirteenth time.

The fourteenth time.

The trajectory of the arc is becoming more and more stable, but it's still just a little bit off.

Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen.

Lunchtime arrived, and Da Liu asked in a low voice:

"Master, shall we eat?"

Old Sun acted as if he hadn't heard anything.

Jiang Ming took two cornbread buns out of his pocket and pushed one towards Lao Sun.

Old Sun grabbed it, took two bites, and swallowed it without even chewing it properly, his hands never stopping. (╥﹏╥)

Eighteen, nineteen, twentieth.

By the twentieth time, Lao Sun's technique had undergone a qualitative change.

The curves are much smoother, and the rhythm of wrist rotation is more even.

But even a micrometer reading of one calorie is still insufficient.

"How much difference?"

Old Sun asked in a hoarse voice.

"0.01 millimeters off."

Jiang Ming looked at the micrometer scale.

Old Sun didn't get angry, nor did he curse.

He simply put the scrap aside quietly and picked up the twenty-first piece.

The twenty-first time.

The difference is 0.008 millimeters.

The twenty-second time.

The difference is 0.005 millimeters.

They're getting closer.

Wu Hanzhang watched from behind, his palms sweating profusely. (⊙_⊙;)

He worked with vacuum tubes for twenty years and saw countless veteran workers toiling away in the workshop.

But this was the first time he had ever seen someone like Lao Sun use pure muscle memory to pursue micron-level precision.

What shocked Wu Hanzhang even more was Jiang Ming.

This kid can not only draw blueprints down to the micrometer level, but he can also guide a top-notch fitter like Lao Sun, who has been doing pure hand-grinding for thirty years.

He corrected every detail precisely, down to the angle of wrist rotation and breathing rhythm.

This is definitely not something you can learn from textbooks.

Looking at Jiang Ming's unusually calm face, Wu Hanzhang's question resurfaced.

Who taught him these skills?

The twenty-third time.

Old Sun took a deep breath, pressed his hands against the rubber block, and slowly exerted force.

Shake, shake, shake.

The arc glided smoothly across the surface of the grinding disc.

Old Sun's breathing became very slow, and he looked like a statue.

The range of wrist rotation, the force of feeding, and the curvature of the arc are all kept stable at the same rhythm.

Two minutes later, Lao Sun stopped.

He wiped the surface clean with a cotton cloth, picked up the micrometer, and carefully clipped it onto the surface.

The workshop was so quiet you could hear everyone's heartbeats.

Old Sun stared at the micrometer's markings.

His hands began to tremble.

0.002 millimeters.

Old Sun's voice trembled:

"Just 0.002 millimeters off!"

(✧◡✧)

Old Sun suddenly stood up, gripping the piece of scrap material with both hands until his knuckles turned white.

"I touched it!"

"I can feel that texture!"

Old Sun's face turned bright red, and he turned to look at Jiang Ming:

"One more time!"

Just once!

"I can touch the threshold!"

Da Liu was so excited that he kept rubbing his hands together.

Xiao Li also focused all his attention on the grinding table.

But Xiao Li's eyes darted around. (￢_￢)

While everyone was gathered around Old Sun staring at the grinding table, he quietly took a step back.

They took another step back.

Next to the workbench, Jiang Ming's thick, hard-copy notebook sat between a wrench and a micrometer.

Xiao Li's right hand had already been pulled out of his work uniform pocket.

His heart was pounding, and he moved very quietly toward the worktable.

One step, two steps.

His fingertips were less than a foot away from the notebook.

"Big Liu!"

"Bring me that piece of cotton cloth!"

Old Sun suddenly shouted.

Liu turned around reflexively and strode to the worktable, bumping right into Xiao Li.

Hey, what are you doing standing here?

Da Liu asked casually, bent down, grabbed a piece of cotton cloth from the worktable, and turned to leave.

Xiao Li's hand froze in mid-air. (°ー°〃)

He quickly withdrew his hand, pretended to take a file from the tool shelf next to him, and then casually walked back to his original position.

My heart was pounding against my chest.

Nobody noticed him.

Everyone's attention was focused on Old Sun and the piece of scrap that was about to create a miracle.

Before finishing work in the evening.

Old Sun held the waste sample, which had been ground twenty-three times before finally approaching its target, in both hands, examining it over and over.

There was something complex in his eyes.

That's the kind of fervor and awe that only top artisans show when they reach their own limits.

"Jiang Gong."

Old Sun clutched the sample and turned to look at Jiang Ming.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"You'll keep watch for me tomorrow."

"I'll grind it all in one go."

Jiang Ming looked at Old Sun's hands, which were covered in calluses but as steady as a rock, and nodded.

But he knew one thing in his heart.

Three kilograms of fluororubber were wasted during vulcanization and another set was wasted during grinding.

The remaining material is barely enough to make four more sets of seals.

Four chances.

If Lao Sun makes two more mistakes, the entire military vacuum tube project will be halted.

He glanced down at the nearly empty, cold water in the enamel mug, but didn't say a word. (ー_ー)!!

Some pressures shouldn't be known to artisans before they start working.