Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Starting with the Korean War, returning home to take charge

Ansteel's factory area is so large that it could fit several courtyard houses.

He Yuzhu stood before the No. 3 blast furnace, looking up. The furnace, tens of meters high, blocked out half the sky, and the taphole was tearing open—the molten iron wasn't gushing out, but roaring out. 1500 degrees Celsius, blindingly bright, it rolled down the grooves, sparks hitting the ground and splashing onto his shoes, burning two black spots. When the heat wave hit him, he instinctively leaned back, his nostrils filled with the acrid smell of burnt iron.

Ma Yuejin stood to the side, clutching a notebook, its pages curled from the sun. He had been stationed at Anshan Iron and Steel for two months, losing weight and the skin on his cheekbones was sunburned and almost cracked.

"Dean, this furnace is stable." He handed over the notebook, his fingers covered in cracks. "1,580 degrees, two degrees different from what we calculated."

He Yuzhu didn't take the notebook, staring at the metal nozzle: "Where were the two differences?"

Ma Yuejin paused for a moment: "Could it be... moisture in the coke?"

"possible?"

Ma Yuejin closed the notebook: "I'll go check right away."

An older worker approached, his wrinkled face glowing red in the furnace fire. His surname was Meng, and he had worked at Ansteel for thirty years, ever since the Japanese took over.

"Dean He, your method is amazing." He didn't look at He Yuzhu when he spoke, but stared at the molten iron. "It used to take four hours to make one batch of steel, now it takes two and a half. The furnace is also older. It used to need to be repaired after one hundred batches, but now it's been through more than two hundred batches and it's still rock hard."

He Yuzhu looked at him and said, "Master Meng, it's because your skills are so good."

Old Meng then turned his face, smiled, but with a hint of bitterness: "Good craftsmanship? Back when the Japanese were around, our craftsmanship was good too, but they would just throw away the steel we produced, saying it was too brittle. When Soviet experts came, they also said that our ore was no good, and we would never be able to produce good steel in our lifetime."

He threw the cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out.

"For the first time in thirty years, someone has told us it's because of our good craftsmanship."

A young worker, in his early twenties, squeezed up from behind, wearing glasses with dust on the lenses.

"Dean He, I have a question." He pulled out a small notebook. "We've calculated your heat balance formula several times, but it never matches the actual furnace conditions. Is there a problem with the formula, or have we made a mistake in our calculations?"

He Yuzhu held out his hand: "Let me see the notebook."

He took the notebook, glanced at it, and pointed to one line: "Here, how much is used for heat capacity?"

0:21.

"That's at room temperature. 1500 degrees Celsius should be 0.36."

The young man was stunned, and his face flushed red.

Old Meng laughed from the side: "College students, you have to learn everything from books when you're in front of the stove."

The young man lowered his head, took the notebook back, and began to revise it with a pen.

He Yuzhu said, "It's not your fault. The textbooks only show the data for room temperature. I only realized it when I got to the furnace."

The young man looked up, his eyes lighting up.

Just then, someone shouted from the iron outlet.

"Master Meng! A piece of the furnace lining has fallen off!"

Old Meng's expression changed, and he ran over there. He Yuzhu followed behind, squeezed to the front of the furnace, and saw that a large piece of refractory brick had fallen off the east side of the furnace wall, revealing the reddish furnace shell, which was already beginning to turn white.

"It's over." A worker nearby turned pale. "If the furnace shell burns through, it's ruined."

Ma Yuejin pulled out his notebook, his hands trembling, barely able to hold the pen: "Logically, this shouldn't be the case. The temperature was perfectly controlled, and the splatter thickness was just right..."

Old Meng was already cursing: "I told you not to be lazy! Who's going to take responsibility for splashing the dregs so many times?"

The young worker with glasses stepped forward, his lips trembling: "I...I splashed it three times, the standard is two times..."

"How can you return it after three times?"

He Yuzhu didn't speak, but stared at the whitish furnace shell for a few seconds.

"It's not his problem." He pointed to the furnace shell. "Look, the detached part is in the air vent area. The cooling intensity here is insufficient, causing the temperature to be too high in some areas."

Old Meng was taken aback: "Then what do we do? Shut down the furnace now?"

"Don't stop." He Yuzhu turned and walked out. "Find me two water pipes and some asbestos cloth. Right away."

Three minutes later, the water pipes were connected, and the asbestos cloth was brought over. He Yuzhu had someone wrap the water pipes with asbestos cloth to make two simple water-cooling guns.

"Ma Yuejin, you take two men and stand on the east side. I'll take two men and stand on the west side. On my command, spray in simultaneously."

Old Meng stopped him: "Dean, we haven't tried this method before, what if..."

"If the furnace shell cracks due to thermal stress, the furnace will explode," He Yuzhu said calmly. "But if we don't try, the furnace will definitely be ruined."

He glanced at his watch.

"start."

The moment the water was sprayed in, there was a loud hissing sound, and white steam rose up, obscuring everything. He Yuzhu stood still, his hand still raised, staring at the white expanse.

Five seconds. Ten seconds. Twenty seconds.

The steam dissipated.

The whitish area on the furnace shell darkened.

Old Meng was the first to rush forward. He glanced at it, then turned back, his face all wrinkled together.

"It's done."

The young worker wearing glasses plopped down on the ground and couldn't get up for a long time.

He Yuzhu wasn't there when the first batch of steel came out.

He was calculating data in his office when Ma Yuejin rushed in, panting, "Dean, Old Meng... Old Meng, he..."

"What's wrong?"

"Go and take a look."

He Yuzhu rushed to the furnace, where Old Meng was squatting in front of the pile of steel ingots, touching them with his hands. The steel ingots, which had just cooled, were still seventy or eighty degrees Celsius. He didn't let go, and as he touched them, his shoulders began to twitch.

Dozens of people stood around, but no one said a word.

Old Meng's son stood to the side, at a loss: "Dad, what's wrong?"

Old Meng ignored him and looked up at He Yuzhu. His eyes were red, his face was covered in ash, and tears streamed down his face.

"Dean He, my father's generation worked in steelmaking. They smelted steel their whole lives, and all they produced was scrap iron. The Japanese said we couldn't do it, and the Soviets said we couldn't do it either. I worked in this field for thirty years, and I also thought we couldn't do it."

He stood up, his hand still on the steel ingot.

"What can this steel be made into?"

He Yuzhu said, "We can build bridges, buildings, trains, anything."

Old Meng nodded.

"it is good."

When the news reached Beijing, the Ministry of Metallurgical Industry organized a training course, with Ma Yuejin as the main lecturer. On the day he received the notification, he was in front of the furnace, monitoring the temperature.

"You want me to speak in Beijing?" He read the notice three times. "No way, I can't even speak properly."

He Yuzhu leaned against the stove without saying a word.

"Dean, please go, you speak well."

He Yuzhu shook his head: "You're the one who oversaw this technology, you're the one who calculated the data, go ahead."

"But I..."

"What do you mean, 'you'?" He Yuzhu interrupted him. "Five years ago you were a fitter in a steel rolling mill, and now over three hundred technicians across the country call you Teacher Ma. You think you're not good enough? Are those three hundred-plus technicians blind?"

Ma Yuejin opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word.

On the day of the commendation ceremony, the auditorium of the Ministry of Metallurgical Industry was packed with people. He Yuzhu sat in the third row, surrounded by factory directors and chief engineers from various plants. A red banner hung on the stage, bearing the words "National Steel Front Commendation Ceremony".

When Ma Yuejin's name was called, he stood up, his legs a little weak. He walked to the stage, stood in front of the microphone, and saw a sea of ​​heads below. His palms were sweaty, his back was sweaty, and his shirt clung to his skin.

"Dear leaders and comrades."

Some people below laughed.

He took a deep breath and was about to continue when someone suddenly stood up.

"Teacher Ma, I have a question."

He was a middle-aged man wearing glasses, dressed in a Zhongshan suit, and with a fountain pen clipped to his wrist.

"Your technology worked successfully at Ansteel, but it didn't work for us. The same data, the same procedures, and the furnace lining still crumbled. Can you explain why?"

The whole place fell silent.

Ma Yuejin stood there, stunned, his mind blank.

He Yuzhu sat in the third row and didn't move.

Ma Yuejin looked at the man and swallowed hard: "What's the alkalinity of your mine?"

"One o'clock."

"That's not right," Ma Yuejin said, raising his voice. "The data we provided indicates that the ore's alkalinity must be controlled above 2.0. At 1.8, the slag won't adhere."

The man paused for a moment, then looked down and flipped through his notebook.

Ma Yuejin stood on the stage, waiting for him to finish flipping through the notebook.

"...We were mistaken."

Ma Yuejin nodded and turned to face the microphone.

"Distinguished leaders and comrades, our technology isn't some magical method; it's been calculated step by step. If the data is wrong, or the operation is wrong, the result will be wrong. Everyone, go back and follow the data; it will definitely work."

He began to speak.

This time he didn't stutter.

That evening, He Yuzhu stood alone by the window of the guesthouse.

Outside, Beijing was brightly lit, and smoke could be seen rising from chimneys in the distance. The whole country was undergoing massive construction; construction sites and furnaces were everywhere.

The voice in my head rang.

[Hidden Mission 2: Sparks Flying Across the Land - Completed]

[Mission Reward Points: +3,000,000]

[Current total points: 44,830,000]

He didn't look at the number.

What flashed through my mind was Lao Meng's red-rimmed face, Ma Yuejin standing on the stage from stuttering to speaking without stuttering, and the red ears of the young worker with glasses when he changed the data.

The two black spots were caused by sparks from the molten iron splashing onto his shoes the moment it gushed out.

Outside the window, the lights of Beijing dimmed one by one.

The chimney in the distance is still emitting smoke.

He stood there for a long time.

He didn't turn around and walk to the bed until a thin layer of frost had formed on the windowpane.

After taking two steps, I stopped.

I looked back out the window one last time.

The chimneys are still smoking, the stoves are still burning, and the people are still working.

He lay down and closed his eyes.

All I could hear was the sound of molten iron flowing.