Chapter 76 Three Months of Seclusion: An Eastern Miracle That Shocked the World

The blue-white arc of the welding torch stung the eyes.

A few sparks splashed onto the concrete floor, emitting a pungent, burnt smell.

The large iron gate was welded shut with two thumb-thick rebar rods, with ugly weld beads forming in the gaps.

The autumn wind swirled a few withered sycamore leaves, sweeping them along the curb.

The temperature in Donghai City had dropped.

Wave Mobile Headquarters.

Fatty Xu leaned back against his leather chair, holding a chipped thermos cup in his hand.

A few goji berries tumbled up and down in the hot water.

He stared at the computer screen, the mouse wheel clicking "clack-clack" as he scrolled.

"No movement. They haven't even issued a statement to debunk the rumors."

Fatty Xu took a gulp of water and spat out a soggy piece of tea leaf.

"I told you so. Hand-crafting chips? Does Lu Jingming think he's the Grand Supreme Elderly Lord?"

The assistant standing nearby bowed slightly and handed over a document.

"Boss Xu, the internet is full of people cursing Xinghai Technology. The internet trolls bought by Qualcomm have pushed the posts to the homepage of Jifeng Forum."

The assistant scratched his scalp, causing a few white flakes of dandruff to fall.

"Everyone is saying that Lu Jingming embezzled those 1.6 billion and bought a plane ticket to flee to the US long ago."

Fatty Xu grabbed the cigar on the table and bit off the end.

"Flee? Even if he runs to Mars, he has to spit out the market share he swallowed for me."

He lit the cigar, but the matchstick burned his fingertip, making him flinch.

"Hiss—damn it."

Shaking his hand, Fatty Xu grinned with his thick lips.

"Go, notify the distributors. Fill the counters with our flip phones. These three months belong to Wave."

Separated by only a wall.

Inside the thousand-acre factory grounds of Xinghai Technology, not a trace of the autumn scenery outside could be seen.

Outside the No. 1 clean room, the air was thick with the pungent smell of machine oil and the ozone from burnt welding rods.

Anti-static suits hung on the corridor railings, soaked with sweat and marked with rings of white salt stains.

Lu Jingming squatted on the steps at the entrance of the workshop.

He held that plastic lighter in his hand, his thumb mechanically flicking the wheel.

A layer of blue-black stubble had sprouted on his chin, prickling against his collar and feeling itchy.

With a loud "bang."

The heavy lead-lined radiation-proof door was pushed open.

Niu Dazhuang rushed out shirtless, his work pants torn with two holes.

His muscular physique was smeared with black grease.

He carried a large wrench in his hand, his chest heaving like a bellows.

"Young Master! The lens... the lens is stuck!"

Dazhuang's voice was as hoarse as sandpaper, and he swallowed twice.

"The old masters from Changchun have calibrated the optical path. There's no deviation. Not even a nanometer of deviation!"

Lu Jingming stood up and dusted the floating ash off his pant legs.

He didn't answer, striding into the workshop.

The inside of the workshop was as cold as an ice cellar.

The roar of the constant temperature and humidity system made one's eardrums ache.

In the center lay a steel behemoth.

Metal scaffolding several stories high was interwoven with complex pipelines and hydraulic pumps.

The exterior shell gleamed with the cold, hard luster of titanium alloy, unpainted.

On the front metal baffle, a five-star red flag had been hand-painted with red paint.

The red paint was somewhat mottled, with thin red streaks running down the edges due to gravity.

It exuded a sense of savage, rugged industrial violence.

Chen Guoan stood at the foot of the behemoth.

The old man had lost so much weight that he was unrecognizable, his military overcoat hanging loosely on his frame.

His graying hair was plastered to his forehead in clumps, soaking wet.

"Old Zhao."

Chen Guoan stared at the dual workbench, his voice light and airy, as if afraid to startle this iron contraption.

"The light source... connect it. Push the magazine."

The fat old man, Old Zhao, gripped the control lever of the console, his knuckles white and veins bulging on the back of his hand.

He bit his lower lip, not noticing when he bit it until it bled.

"Connected. Power supply is stable. Laser target is in position."

Old Li stood nearby, clutching the corner of his clothes, not daring to blink.

His eyeballs were dry and painful, covered in fine red blood vessels.

Lu Jingming walked over and stopped beside Chen Guoan.

"Open the gate, Elder Chen."

Chen Guoan turned his head, his cloudy eyes glancing at him.

The old man raised his right hand, which was covered in calluses and trembling uncontrollably.

He slammed it down on the red start button.

"Hum—"

A low hum, so deep it made one's heart tremble, emanated from the belly of the machine.

The ground trembled along with it.

Immediately after.

Inside the radiation-proof glass window, a blinding, ghostly blue arc of light lit up.

The light penetrated the complex lens set, refracting into brilliant halos on the workbench.

"Light source stable! No distortion in the interference fringes!"

Old Zhao stared at the monitoring screen, his voice cracking from shouting.

"Masking plate pushed in! Prepare for etching!"

Xia Weiliang's voice came from the computer in the corner.

She was wearing a white lab coat so dirty its original color was unrecognizable, stepping on a pile of empty cans.

Her fingers hammered against the keyboard, creating a chaotic clatter.

"Algorithm compensation is engaged. Logic gate routing is fine."

A fine "click-clack" sound came from inside the machine.

That was the nanometer-scale robotic arm performing ultra-high-frequency displacement calibration.

Every tiny pause felt like it was stepping on the hearts of the hundreds of engineers present.

Sweat dripped down the tip of Chen Guoan's nose.

Smashing onto the floor.

Time was like thick glue, stretched infinitely long.

No one spoke.

Only the low roar of the machine echoed in the cold workshop.

"Click."

A crisp mechanical disengagement sound rang out.

The conveyor belt began to turn slowly.

A small, circular wafer, shimmering with rainbow-like luster, slid out along the exit.

It stopped steadily on the clean tray.

"It's out..."

Old Zhou lunged in front of the tray, his legs giving way, and he knelt directly on the ground.

With trembling hands, he grabbed the probe of the tester nearby.

He aimed it at the cut chip area on the wafer and jabbed it down.

The data on the screen jumped frantically.

Old Li leaned in, his mouth wide open.

"How is it, Old Zhou? Say something!"

Old Zhou didn't make a sound.

He stared fixedly at the lines of green data.

His Adam's apple rolled, and he made a strange sound like a whimper.

"It works..."

He threw away the probe, covered his face with his hands, and his shoulders heaved violently.

"The micro-fabrication process is fully operational. No short circuits. No burnouts."

Xia Weiliang rushed over barefoot and pushed Old Zhou aside.

"Let me see the yield rate!"

She grabbed the micro-scanner nearby and scanned the entire wafer.

The scanner's green light flashed frantically.

Xia Weiliang stared at the sheet of white paper ejected from the output slot.

The paper rustled in her hands.

"Ninety... ninety-five percent yield rate."

She raised her head and looked around at the old men covered in grease.

Chen Guoan swayed.

He took half a step back and bumped into the machine base.

The old man slid to the floor, covering his face with his hands, and let out a long, mournful cry.

"Oh, Heavens... we've actually made it!"

He slapped the cold concrete floor, crying like a child who had suffered every grievance.

"We don't have to beg the foreigners anymore. We never have to endure the cold stares of those bastards again!"

The workshop erupted.

Several engineers from the Changchun Institute of Optics and Fine Mechanics hugged each other, pounding on each other's backs.

Dazhuang grinned, and as he laughed, tears mixed with machine oil flowed into his mouth.

"It's salty. Damn it, it's really salty."

Lu Jingming stood where he was, motionless.

The smell of machine oil hit him straight in the head.

Xia Weiliang picked up a pair of anti-static tweezers.

She picked up a small, cut square block from the edge of the wafer.

That was the first Xialong 1 SoC chip.

A thing the size of a fingernail.

The metal surface reflected a cold light, its edges neat and tidy.

Her hands were trembling violently.

The tip of the tweezers couldn't hold it, and the chip swayed in mid-air.

Xia Weiliang turned around and walked toward Lu Jingming.

She didn't walk steadily and stubbed her toe on a dropped wrench.

She gasped in pain but didn't stop.

Stopping in front of Lu Jingming, she handed him the tweezers.

Her eyes were brimming with tears, ready to fall.

The tip of her nose was red, and she sniffled several times.

"Boss Lu..."

She stammered, her voice trembling with a heavy nasal tone.

"We... we did it. It... it's alive."

Lu Jingming lowered his head.

Looking at the tiny piece of metal trembling on the tip of the tweezers.

He reached out and pinched the edge with his thumb and index finger.

The touch was cold.

The cutting lines on the edges were even a bit sharp.

He held the chip up to his eyes, facing the blinding incandescent light overhead.

There were no letters engraved on it.

It was just a pure, rough, Huaxia-made creation.

Lu Jingming clenched the chip in his palm and tightened his fingers.

The sharp edges pressed into the flesh of his palm.

He turned his head.

His gaze passed through the thick glass window, looking at the barbed wire on the high wall outside.

On the horizon, there was a cold gray unique to late autumn.

A few fallen leaves swirled down from the sky.

He curled his lips, revealing a nonchalant sneer.

The lighter in his other pocket made a dull clinking sound.

"Let's go."

Lu Jingming turned back and glanced at this group of madmen covered in mud.

"The door should be smashed open too. Let's take this thing and go pay our respects at the foreigners' graves."