Chapter 45 Missile Craftsmen in the Ruins

The people were top-tier, but the machines were truly rotten.

In the injection molding workshop, three decrepit vertical injection molding machines wheezed like three sick cows.

"This won't work, Manager Lin."

Workshop Director Lao Zhang was drenched in sweat, holding a few defective mesh covers that had just been produced.

"The pressure on these machines is unstable. Even though we have electricity, the voltage fluctuations are too severe."

"The material barrel temperature won't go up either, so the plastic doesn't melt properly. Everything that comes out has shrinkage and flow marks."

Zhao Dagang was stomping his feet in anxiety nearby:

"Lao Zhang, think of something! This is a life-saving order!"

"I want to!"

"But these broken machines are old Soviet products from the 60s; they should have been scrapped long ago!"

Lao Zhang threw his wrench onto the ground and squatted down, clutching his head.

"Even the cleverest housewife can't cook a meal without rice!"

Lin Xi said nothing.

Lin Xi said nothing. On his retina, the streaming interface was flashing frantically.

【Old Injection Molding Expert】: I'm familiar with this machine! This model's hydraulic pump has a common defect—insufficient pressure compensation!

【Chemical Engineering Dog】: The temperature is insufficient because the heating coils are aged, plus the ambient temperature is low.

【Wild Edison】: Streamer, listen to me! This is a moment for a physics cheat code!

The corners of Lin Xi's mouth curled up imperceptibly.

Lin Xi walked over to the machine, reached out to touch the cold hopper, turned around, and gave instructions.

"Factory Director Zhao, go have someone find a few infrared light bulbs, the kind used for hospital physiotherapy."

"Huh?"

Zhao Dagang was confused. "What for?"

"To bake." Lin Xi pointed at the hopper,

"Heat the hopper to pre-dry the material."

"Also, go to the scrap yard and find a few old nitrogen cylinders. Connect them behind the hydraulic pump."

"Nitrogen cylinders?"

Lao Zhang looked up with an expression as if he were looking at a madman. "What can that thing do?"

"Make a simple accumulator."

As Lin Xi spoke, he casually picked up a piece of chalk and drew a sketch on the machine's casing,

"Use the compressibility of nitrogen to compensate for hydraulic fluctuations."

"This is called—crude voltage stabilization."

Half an hour later.

A strange red light lit up beside the injection molding machine.

Four infrared light bulbs surrounded the hopper.

And behind the hydraulic system hung two rusty nitrogen cylinders, with the pipelines temporarily rigged using high-pressure rubber hoses.

Everyone held their breath.

"Start the machine!" Lin Xi ordered.

"Boom—"

The old machine let out a muffled roar.

This time, the hydraulic rod's pushing motion lacked the previous hesitation and jitter, becoming linear and powerful instead.

"Sizzle—"

The mold closed, and the high-pressure plastic injection occurred.

A few seconds later, the mold opened.

Wearing gloves, Lao Zhang took off the runner with trembling hands.

It was a deep cyan mesh cover.

Under the infrared light, it exuded the cold, sharp luster characteristic of industrial products.

"It... it worked!"

Lao Zhang jumped up abruptly, cradling the mesh cover as if he were holding a newborn baby.

"That's damn amazing!"

"This surface finish is even better than the one from Huashang Factory!"

The workers swarmed around with a boom, their eyes shining.

"Miraculous!"

"A few light bulbs solved it?"

"This is what you call science!"

Zhao Dagang was so excited that tears welled up in his eyes.

The look in his eyes when he gazed at Lin Xi had shifted from looking at a god of wealth to looking at a savior.

However, Lin Xi took the mesh cover from Lao Zhang's hand.

Amidst everyone's stunned gaze, he did not show a satisfied smile.

Instead, he held it high.

"Snap!"

With a crisp sound, the mesh cover was ruthlessly thrown onto the concrete floor by Lin Xi.

Fragments splattered, grazing Zhao Dagang's terrified face.

The whole scene fell into dead silence.

"This... this perfectly good thing..."

Lao Zhang shivered with heartache. "Manager Lin, what is this for?"

Lin Xi bent down to pick up a fragment, pointing at the almost invisible white mark at the fracture.

"There is still residual stress."

Lin Xi's voice was as cold as ice,

"I know you guys used to build missiles."

"What?"

"Now that you're building fans, have the standards dropped?"

He scanned the weathered faces around him.

"What we are selling to foreigners is not just something that can be used; it must maintain high standards."

"I know you are afraid of poverty and are anxious to ship goods for money."

"But, garbage is garbage."

"Readjust the back pressure and extend the holding pressure time by 2 seconds."

Silence.

A suffocating silence.

A moment later, that veteran master who worked on the chains suddenly took off his hat and slammed it hard onto the ground.

"Damn it! He's right!"

The old man's eyes were red, his voice as loud as a broken gong,

"We are the Seventh Ministry of Machine Building Industry!"

"We never slacked off when building missiles; can we let people look down on us for building a fan?"

"Everyone, get moving!"

"If we don't make a good one today, I'm not going home!"

"Do it!"

"Adjust the parameters!"

"I don't believe this!"

The lifeless workshop was instantly ignited.

Welding sparks flew, and machines roared.

That long-suppressed pride belonging to the craftsmen of a great nation.

On this dilapidated night, mixed with the smell of machine oil and plastic, it boiled over again.

Zhao Dagang stood in the corner.

Watching that young back standing by the injection molding machine giving orders, he secretly wiped away a tear.

Hongfeng Factory was alive.

...

Three o'clock in the morning.

The first batch of 300 qualified mesh covers were neatly stacked in the turnover boxes.

Each one glowed with a faint cyan light.

Lin Xi leaned against the corner of the wall, having just lit a cigarette, preparing to let his tense nerves relax.

Suddenly.

"Screech—"

A sharp screech of brakes pierced the night sky.

The gravel on the ground was shaking.

Zhao Dagang's expression changed, and he rushed to the window to look out.

The tea mug in his hand fell to the ground with a "clatter."

"What's wrong?" Lin Xi snuffed out the cigarette, his brows furrowed.

"Military... military trucks!"

Zhao Dagang's voice was trembling as he pointed outside,

"Jiefang heavy trucks!"

"They have guns! They've blocked the factory gate!"

Lin Xi's heart skipped a beat.

Although Red Star fans used some edge-cutting technology, it shouldn't be enough to alarm the military, right?

Just then, the workshop door was violently pushed open.

No knocking, no pleasantries.

Two rows of fully armed soldiers ran in.

Subsequently, a middle-aged man wearing a military overcoat with two bars and three stars on his shoulders strode in.

His eyes scanned the workshop, finally locking onto Lin Xi.

"Who is Lin Xi?"

The voice was not loud, but it carried an unquestionable authority.

Zhao Dagang was so scared his legs went weak, and he was about to start explaining.

Lin Xi, however, took a step forward, blocking Zhao Dagang.

"I am."

Lin Xi looked at the other party calmly. "What can I do for you?"

The officer's eyes stared at Lin Xi for a full three seconds.

Suddenly, he brought his feet together and raised his hand in a standard military salute.

"By order of the Northwest Base General Command Headquarters!"

The officer's voice was as loud as a bell, shaking dust from the workshop ceiling,

"The core mold for the 'Red Star No. 1' special mission has been delivered under armed escort!"

"Please accept the delivery, Manager Lin!"