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

Before the bowls and chopsticks containing the extra rice and vegetables had even been cleared away, Jiang Ming had already finished drawing the lifespan decay curve on the blackboard.

The horizontal axis represents time, and the vertical axis represents the emission current. The three lines correspond to tubes A01, A02, and A03, respectively, and are distinguished by different colored chalk.

The curve for No. 01 is the steepest, starting at 273 microamps and decreasing to 269 microamps after 48 hours, with the slope increasing significantly in the latter half.

Typhoon Jia-02 was the most stable, dropping only four microamperes in twenty hours.

Data point A03 only has 20 minutes of data, which is too short to draw a trend.

Xiao Zhao stood in front of the blackboard with an enamel mug in his hand, but forgot to drink from it. The bottom of the mug left a watermark on his notebook.

"Engineer Jiang, is the accelerated attenuation in the latter half of tube A01 related to the crack in the first verification tube?"

"The edges of the coating were repaired initially, and although they passed the test, they may have left stress concentration points."

Jiang Ming did not immediately deny it, but wrote down two possibilities in the blank space on the blackboard.

"First, under long-term operation at high temperatures, the internal micropores in the thicker areas of the coating gradually expand, resulting in a reduction in the effective emission area. This is a problem with the material itself."

"Secondly, the sealing interface produces micro-leakage under temperature cycling, allowing a very small number of air molecules to enter the tube and oxidize the cathode surface. This is a structural problem."

Wu Hanzhang put down his chopsticks, walked to the blackboard, and pointed to the first line with his finger.

"I prefer this one." His tone was very certain. "The A02 degrades the slowest, and its coating happens to be the most uniform of the three, with no signs of repair."

"The edges of No. 01 were treated initially, so the thickness is not entirely consistent."

Old Sun listened from the back row, tapped his pipe on the sole of his shoe, and a piece of unburnt ash fell to the ground, which he then stomped on.

"So that means I need to modify my scraper again?"

"It's not a problem with the scraper." Jiang Ming turned to look at him. "It's because the process window is too narrow. A slight thickness deviation won't be noticeable in short-term testing, but it will be magnified in long-term operation."

"To improve lifespan, coating uniformity must be improved to another level."

"How even is enough?" Old Sun asked directly.

"The thickness deviation over the entire area shall not exceed plus or minus half a micrometer."

Old Sun put his pipe on the table without saying a word, but his expression said it all.

A difference of plus or minus half a micrometer, finer than one-tenth the thickness of a human hair, is almost impossible to achieve by manual scraping and magnifying glass inspection.

Jiang Ming knew that this request was almost harsh under the current conditions, but he did not back down.

"I'll figure something out." He said this while looking at the blackboard, not at Old Sun. "Not to make your hands more steady, but to make the craft itself independent of the stability of your hands."

Xiao Zhao wrote Jiang Ming's words down in his notebook, then flipped back to the previous data page to check them, and then looked up.

"Engineer Jiang, I've made a rough estimate. If we extrapolate from the decay curve of the Jia-02, the transmission current will drop below the warning line in about 120 to 150 hours."

"One hundred and fifty hours." Wu Hanzhang did the calculation silently. "More than six days, that's not short."

"Not enough." Jiang Ming threw a piece of chalk into the blackboard tray. "The minimum standard for military equipment is to operate continuously for 500 hours at a rate of no less than 90% of the rated value. We're not even at a fraction of that."

The workshop fell silent, with only the sharp sound of the north wind whistling through the cracks in the glass outside the window.

At this moment, the security officer pushed open the side door of the workshop, holding a telegram in his hand.

"Director Zhang asked me to deliver this. He said you should check it and sign for it."

Jiang Ming took the telegram, unfolded it, and first looked at the heading; it was a commendation notice from his superiors.

The content is short, but the gist is that Workshop No. 1 of the Third Electronic Components Factory has achieved phased results in the research and development of domestically produced anti-interference military electron tubes. The sample tubes have passed the preliminary field test in Northwest China. After research, it was decided to give the group a commendation, and the relevant personnel will be notified separately of their merits.

Wu Hanzhang and Lao Sun came over to take a look, and both of them smiled.

But when Jiang Ming turned the telegram over, there was another section on the back.

After reading the passage, his expression remained unchanged; he simply handed the telegram to Wu Hanzhang.

Wu Hanzhang took it and looked at it for three seconds before his smile disappeared.

"Five improved prototype tubes," he read aloud. "The requirement is to address the lifespan degradation issue based on the existing technology, and deliver five improved prototype tubes within three months for equipment-level evaluation."

When Old Sun heard the number "five," he gripped his pipe tighter.

"Five tubes. Mr. Jiang, how much cerium oxide do you have left?"

Jiang Ming looked at Xiao Zhao.

Xiao Zhao opened the inventory ledger and his finger stopped on the numbers.

"Based on the results of the last inventory, after deducting the consumption of three formal tubes and experimental losses, the net remaining amount of military-grade cerium oxide is just over eleven grams."

Five tubes, according to the original formula, each required a certain amount, plus coating loss and scrap rate, eleven grams is not even enough for three tubes.

Moreover, improvements mean process adjustments, adjustments mean trial and error, and trial and error means doubling material consumption.

The workshop fell silent again.

Just then, hesitant footsteps came from the doorway.

The security officer with the crew cut was standing outside the door with a man who had his head down and was holding a stack of folded papers in his hand.

Jiang Ming recognized him.

Xiao Li.

Xiao Li, who had been sent to the foundry workshop for labor reform, was now wearing old work clothes covered in rust powder, standing outside the threshold of workshop number one, not daring to take a step.

The security officer explained, "He came to the security office himself, saying he had something to hand over."

Xiao Li took a step forward and handed over the stack of papers in his hand. His fingers, which were gripping the edges of the papers, were stained yellow by the rust in the foundry workshop, and the pages trembled along with the yellow stains.

"Jiang Gong," he said in a low voice, as if afraid the door frame would hear, "this is some stuff I copied from memory after I secretly looked at your notebook."

"I gave Liu Shouxin what he wanted, but I kept these few pages for myself."

Jiang Ming looked at the stack of papers, their edges wrinkled from sweat, but didn't reach out. Instead, he took a pencil out of his breast pocket and used the end of the pencil to turn a page of the stack.

"There are no core parameters inside, just some parts of the process flow diagram and material names."

"I know these things are useless now, but I want the security department to know that the area they were initially distributed to was limited, and there was no more."

Wu Hanzhang stood behind Jiang Ming, his expression not looking good.

Old Sun turned his face away immediately, not even glancing at Xiao Li.

Jiang Ming finished sifting through the stack of papers, confirming that there was no core data such as 1.1% ratio, 7-degree chamfer, or sintering curve. Then he put the pencil back in his pocket, bent down to pick up the stack of papers, and handed them to the crew-cut clerk.

"The security department registered and filed the record. It was noted that he voluntarily submitted it."

As if something had been pulled out of Xiao Li's body, his shoulders slumped down, and he turned and followed the security officer.

After Old Sun and the others disappeared at the end of the corridor, he muttered, "If this kid hadn't had any crooked ideas back then, he could be standing in the workshop eating this braised pork right now."

No one responded.

Jiang Ming turned his attention back to the blackboard and drew another horizontal line below the life curve with chalk. Above the line, he wrote "Five Improved Tubes" and below, he wrote "Eleven Grams of Cerium Oxide".

He drew a large question mark between the two numbers.

Wu Hanzhang stood next to him, staring at the question mark for a long time, then took off his reading glasses, the temples of which hit the wooden frame of the blackboard with a crisp sound.

He didn't wipe the dust off the lenses; he just held them in his hand and stared at the question mark.

"Little Jiang."

"Um."

"Cerium oxide is almost gone."