Live Stream 1980: Netizens Teach Me How to Make a Rocket by Hand

The people are top-notch, but the machines are truly awful.

In the injection molding workshop, three old, outdated vertical injection molding machines, like three sick oxen, were panting heavily.

"No, Manager Lin."

Workshop foreman Lao Zhang was covered in sweat, holding several freshly made scrap mesh covers in his hand.

"The pressure of this machine is unstable. Although we have electricity here, the voltage fluctuates too much."

"The barrel temperature can't go up, so it can't melt properly, and the product comes out with shrinkage and flow marks."

Zhao Dagang was so anxious that he kept stamping his feet:

"Old Zhang, you have to think of something! This is a lifesaver!"

"I want to too!"

"But this broken machine is an old Soviet product from the 60s; it should have been scrapped long ago!"

Old Zhang slammed the wrench on the ground, squatted down, and covered his head.

"Even a skilled cook can't cook without rice!"

Lin Xi didn't say anything.

Lin Xi didn't speak; on his retina, the live stream interface was flashing wildly.

[Expert on Injection Molding Machines]: I know this machine very well! This model of hydraulic pump has a common problem: insufficient pressure compensation!

[Chemical Expert]: The temperature is not high enough because the heating coil is old, and the ambient temperature is low.

[Wild Edison]: Streamer, listen to me! This is the moment of physical cheat code!

Lin Xi's lips curled up almost imperceptibly.

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

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

"what?"

Zhao Dagang was bewildered. "What are you doing?"

"Roast." Lin Xi pointed to the hopper.

"Heat the hopper to pre-dry it."

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

"Nitrogen cylinders?"

Old Zhang looked up, giving him a look that said he was crazy. "What can that thing do?"

"Make a simple energy storage device."

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

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

"This is called—traditional pressure stabilization."

Half an hour later.

An eerie red light appeared next to the injection molding machine.

Four infrared bulbs surround the hopper.

Behind the hydraulic system hung two rusty nitrogen cylinders, and the pipelines were made up of high-pressure rubber hoses.

Everyone held their breath.

"Start the machine!" Lin Xi commanded.

"boom--"

The old machine let out a deep, muffled growl.

This time, the hydraulic rod's movement was no longer sluggish and jittery, but became linear and powerful.

"Sizzle—"

The mold is closed, and high-pressure injection is performed.

A few seconds later, the mold opened.

Wearing gloves, Old Zhang removed the drain with trembling hands.

It was a dark blue net.

Under infrared light, it emits a cool luster characteristic of industrial products.

"It's...it's done!"

Old Zhang suddenly jumped up, holding the net cover as if he were holding a newborn baby.

"That's fucking amazing!"

"The surface finish is even better than Huasheng's!"

The workers swarmed around in a flurry, their eyes gleaming.

"Amazing!"

"A few light bulbs will solve the problem?"

"That's what science is!"

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

The way they looked at Lin Xi had changed from looking at a god of wealth to looking at a second parent.

Lin Xi took the netting from Lao Zhang's hand.

He did not show a satisfied smile amidst the astonished gazes of the crowd.

Instead, they raised it high.

"Snapped!"

With a sharp crack, the netting was slammed hard onto the concrete ground by Lin Xi.

Fragments flew everywhere, grazing Zhao Dagang's terrified face.

The entire room fell silent.

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

Old Zhang trembled with heartache. "Manager Lin, what are you doing?"

Lin Xi bent down and picked up a piece of shard, pointing to the almost invisible white stubble at the broken point.

"There is still residual stress."

Lin Xi's voice was as cold as ice.

"I know you used to make missiles."

"What's wrong?"

"Have the standards for manufacturing fans been lowered now?"

He looked around at the weathered faces of the people around him.

"What we're selling to foreigners isn't just usable stuff; we have to maintain high standards."

"I know you're terrified of poverty and are eager to sell your goods and make money."

"But garbage is garbage."

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

silence.

A suffocating silence.

A moment later, the old chain mechanic suddenly took off his hat and threw it heavily to the ground.

"Damn it! You're right!"

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

"We are from the Seventh Ministry of Machinery Industry!"

"They've never been careless in building missiles, so how could anyone look down on them for making a fan?"

"Everyone, get moving!"

"If I don't make something good today, I'm not going home!"

"Dry!"

"Adjust the parameters!"

"I refuse to believe this!"

The lifeless workshop was instantly ignited.

Sparks flew and machines roared.

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

On this desolate night, the smell of engine oil and plastic mingled together and then boiled over again.

Zhao Dagang stood in the corner.

Looking at the young man standing calmly beside the injection molding machine, I secretly wiped away a tear.

Hongfeng Factory is back in business.

……

Three o'clock in the morning.

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

Each piece gleamed with a faint bluish light.

Lin Xi leaned against the corner of the wall, lit a cigarette, and prepared to relax her tense nerves.

Sudden.

"squeak--"

A sharp screech of brakes pierced the night sky.

The stones on the ground were vibrating.

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

The teacup in his hand fell to the ground with a clatter.

"What's wrong?" Lin Xi stubbed out her cigarette, her brows furrowed.

"Military...military vehicle!"

Zhao Dagang's voice trembled as he pointed out the window.

"Liberation truck!"

"Those guys with guns! They've blocked the factory gate!"

Lin Xi's heart skipped a beat.

Although the Red Star fan used some borderline technology, it shouldn't have alarmed the military, right?

Just then, the workshop door was suddenly pushed open.

There was no knocking, no small talk.

Two lines of heavily armed soldiers ran in.

Then, a middle-aged man wearing a military overcoat and carrying two three-star bars on his shoulders strode in.

His eyes swept around the workshop and finally settled on Lin Xi.

Who is Lin Xi?

The voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable air of authority.

Zhao Dagang was so frightened that his legs went weak, and he was about to explain.

Lin Xi stepped forward and blocked Zhao Dagang's path.

"I am."

Lin Xi looked at the other person calmly. "What brings you here?"

The officer 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 Command!"

The officer's voice was loud and clear, causing dust to fall from the workshop ceiling.

"The core mold for the 'Red Star-1' special mission has been delivered under armed escort!"

"Please have Manager Lin inspect the goods!"