Major Heavy Industry: Starting with a Fake Marriage

Chapter 129 Frowning

"That's a 14mm one, I usually use it to remove large bolts. There are teeth marks on the rubber sleeve on the handle, I bit it."

"He took the wrench and tightened every legged thing in the living room. Benches, tables, coffee tables, even the legs of the flower pot stands were all checked. After he finished, he put the tools back into the box one by one, closed the lid, and clapped his hands. When he put them back, everything was in its original place, neatly arranged."

Jiang Cheng imagined the scene. The little guy was squatting on the ground, the wrench longer than his arm, gripping the handle with both hands, straining against the bench leg while his mouth slurred. He remembered that fourteen-inch wrench, the rubber sleeve on the handle already blackened by his sweat, the serrations on the rubber sleeve from when he bit into his first machine tool at the Red Star Factory. The bolt on that machine tool was rusted shut, and he couldn't tighten it, so he bit the wrench handle in desperation.

"Didn't he say he missed me?" Jiang Cheng asked.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. "He said it. When he closed the toolbox, he looked at your photo and said, 'Dad's.' Not 'Dad,' but 'Dad's.' Two words, with a pause in between. After saying that, he patted the toolbox again. He patted it three times, very loudly."

Jiang Cheng recalled the toolbox, its green sheet metal peeling, the edges worn smooth. It contained all his belongings—wrenches, screwdrivers, pliers, files, micrometers, and calipers. He remembered the location of every tool; he could find them with his eyes closed.

"Yanxi, when are you going to register at school?"

"Next spring. March. The admissions office said the acceptance letter will be mailed next month, and I'll need to have a medical examination after receiving it."

"Your health is fine."

"I know. But I'm still a little worried."

No, it won't.

How did you know?

"Because you never let anything stand in your way."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. Then she said, "You too. Were you ever blocked? No. That's why you're there, doing things that benefit the country and its people. I didn't say that, my dad said it over dinner; he's very concerned about you too."

"After I'm done with this, I'll have a detailed talk with Dad."

After hanging up the phone, Jiang Cheng lay on the bed, staring at the crack in the ceiling, his mind preoccupied with the blades. Four more blades remained. Each one needed to be sprayed, each one tested, and each one put on the hot-cycle test bench. Only when all four blades passed inspection would the first phase of the project be complete. Then came the second phase—small-batch trial production—and the third phase—mass production.

The road ahead is still long.

He turned over, pulled the blanket up to cover his shoulders. The rain outside the window had stopped, and the moon peeked out from behind the clouds. Moonlight shone through the gaps in the curtains, drawing a thin white line on the wall.

The next day, the second blade was sprayed. The parameters were exactly the same as the first one, the robotic arm's trajectory was exactly the same, and even the speed of the spray gun was accurate to two decimal places. But the result was different—the coating thickness was 20 micrometers thinner, which, although still within the tolerance range, was closer to the lower limit.

Jiang Cheng checked all the parameters but couldn't find the cause. The powder feeding rate was normal, the spraying distance was normal, the current was normal, and the gas flow rate was normal. He checked the powder batch, and it was the same batch as the first piece. He checked the substrate material, and it was cast in the same furnace. He checked the ambient temperature and humidity, and they were similar to yesterday's. He checked everything he could, tightening every screw and inspecting every joint.

"It might be a problem with the spray gun." Xiao Ma squatted down in front of the spray gun, disassembled the nozzle, and touched the inner wall of the nozzle with his finger. "The nozzle is worn. After using it for so long, the inner diameter is a little larger than before. The powder feed rate hasn't changed, but the speed at which it passes through the nozzle has changed. The powder stays in the flame for a shorter time, resulting in insufficient melting."

Jiang Cheng took the nozzle and examined it against the light. Sure enough, there was a fine, barely visible wear mark on the inner wall, like a ring of fine sandpaper. He replaced the nozzle, readjusted the parameters, and tested it three times on the test piece; the data stabilized. Then he cleaned and recoated the second blade. During cleaning, he wiped it four times with acetone and changed the cotton balls twice. This time, the coating thickness was acceptable.

"A whole day wasted." Jiang Cheng noted this down in his notebook and drew a warning symbol next to it. The warning symbol was a triangle with an exclamation mark inside, which he traced over in red pen. "From now on, check the nozzles every five sprays, and replace them immediately if any are worn. Record the number of times the nozzle was used after each replacement."

Chief Engineer Chen stood beside him, watching him write notes, without saying a word. She simply watched, and only nodded after he finished writing his notes.

The third, fourth, and fifth blades were successively coated over the next three days. Each blade underwent ultrasonic testing and all passed. The five blades were neatly arranged on the lab bench, their silvery-white substrates covered with a grayish-white coating that shimmered softly under the light. Jiang Cheng lined them up, looking from the first to the fifth, and then back again. Each blade looked exactly the same, but he could discern differences—the first blade's coating was grayish, the second's was whitish, and the third was somewhere in between. This was because the particle size of each batch of powder varied slightly, resulting in different degrees of melting during coating.

"Send it to the heat circulation test bench," Chief Engineer Chen said. "One thousand cycles, expected in two weeks. We'll see the results in two weeks."

The five blades were packed into a specially made foam box and sent to the thermal cycle laboratory. That laboratory was in another building in the research institute, and Jiang Cheng had never been there. He only knew that the equipment there could simulate the working conditions of an engine—high temperature, high pressure, and high-speed rotating airflow, heating the blades to thousands of degrees, and then cooling them with cold air, repeating the cycle repeatedly, each cycle like a takeoff and landing.

Jiang Cheng stood at the lab entrance, watching the delivery man disappear down the corridor with the box. The corridor was long, the fluorescent lights casting a pale white glow that reflected a faint, eerie light onto the green wainscoting. His footsteps echoed through the corridor, growing fainter and fainter until finally drowned out by the distant roar of machinery.

"Chengzi, go back and rest." Huang Deqing walked over from behind, carrying the tin kettle in his hand, steam still rising from the spout. "Standing here won't do any good. The results won't come out earlier just because you're standing here."

Jiang Cheng didn't move. "Master, do you think we can pass this time?"

Huang Deqing placed the kettle on the ground, unscrewed the lid, and poured a glass of water. The water was warm, steaming and condensing into a cloud of white mist in the air. He took a sip, smacked his lips, and frowned slightly.