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

Five minutes later.

A solid, silver-white aluminum alloy brick was securely locked into the chuck of the worktable.

It has sharp edges and is square, and looks nothing special.

Lin Xi took a deep breath and pressed the start button.

The spindle rotates again.

Coolant gushed out.

The moment the milling cutter touched the aluminum alloy surface, everyone in the workshop was stunned.

Because the way the blade moves is completely beyond their comprehension.

It's not a simple left-right translation or up-down feed.

Instead, it resembles a real wrist.

With the precise linkage of five axes, the cutting tool begins to tilt, flip, and even drill into an impossible blind spot in an almost inverted posture.

Silvery-white aluminum shavings flew like snow.

"How did that knife get in there?!"

An old milling machine operator craned his neck for a long time.

"The scissor holder is tilted at over 60 degrees, why isn't it hitting the bed frame?"

The young technician next to him was so focused on the alarm light that he forgot to take notes.

There was no alarm, no pause, not even the slightest extra tremor.

"It's the RTCP algorithm!"

Zhao Qiang stared intently at the dazzling path of the blade, his voice slightly strained.

"The system controls not the machine tool coordinates, but the tool tip point."

"It also calculates the position between the spindle housing, fixture, and workpiece in real time to avoid interference in advance."

He said that by the end, he felt a chill run down his spine.

With three translational axes (X, Y, and Z) and two rotational axes (A and C), interpolation is performed simultaneously in five directions.

The Bagua OS strings them together into a smooth, continuous trajectory at the underlying level, recalculating the spatial coordinates of the blade tip every millisecond.

That impeller was just an appetizer.

This is the most terrifying part of the true five-axis design.

It is not only capable of processing symmetrical bodies of revolution.

It can sculpt any free-form surface.

Time passed little by little.

Ten minutes, thirty minutes, an hour.

No one spoke in the workshop.

Everyone stood in front of the bulletproof glass, as if watching a magic show they dared not blink.

The sharp edges of that aluminum alloy brick were gradually shaved off.

The rough outline comes out first.

Then there's the shoulder line.

Then, there's the brim of the hat, the neck, and a raised hand.

A few comments occasionally floated across the live stream chat:

Holy crap, is this sculpting... a person?

[I can see it now, it's a human head, wearing a hat.]

[Five-axis CNC sculpting, a work of art even in 2025, and he was doing this in 1985...]

[The impeller at the beginning was already outrageous enough, but it turns out that was just a warm-up?]

The final blow fell.

The spindle stopped rotating, and the hissing sound of the coolant gradually weakened.

Lin Xi pressed the chip removal button, and the high-pressure airflow blew away the remaining chips.

The explosion-proof glass door slid open slowly, and the white steam dissipated.

Everything on the worktable was fully displayed.

The workshop fell silent.

It wasn't any industrial part, but a metal bust.

An elderly Chinese worker.

He wore an old-fashioned canvas work cap with a slightly upturned brim and worn, frayed edges.

The corners of his eyes were covered with wrinkles, each one as fine as a hair, yet clearly visible.

The goggles hung around her neck, the woven pattern of the strap clearly visible.

He held a micrometer in his right hand, his knuckles slightly bent, and there was a noticeable callus on the web of his hand.

The cold, silvery-white luster of aluminum alloy, under the precise tool marks of the five-axis milling cutter, surprisingly presents a soft, almost skin-like texture.

Li Jianguo opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word.

He stared at the statue's face, his gaze moving from the brim of the hat to the corner of the eye, and then from the corner of the eye to the hand holding the micrometer.

Those hands were exactly like his own.

His fingers were covered in calluses, his knuckles were thick, and there was a flat, hard skin on the side of his middle finger from years of using a file.

He recognized him.

That statue is of himself.

It wasn't the stiff look of a photo reproduction, but rather the posture of him working in the workshop.

With his back straight and eyes focused, he held the micrometer in front of him, about to take a reading.

Right at the base of the statue's chest, a line of text is meticulously engraved in micro-carving:

[A tribute to the cornerstone – Red Star Technology. Spring Festival, 1985.]

The old man's lips began to tremble.

Zhao Qiang, standing next to him, already had tears in his eyes.

The technicians looked at each other, none of them daring to speak first.

In the live stream room, the barrage of comments exploded:

[This is what Mr. Li looked like at the beginning of the live stream! This recycling was completely unexpected.]

【Oh no, I'm crying.】

This is the romance of industry... using the most advanced machines to carve the most ordinary people.

While others flaunt their five-axis machining capabilities, he uses five-axis machining to establish a monument for veteran engineers.

[A skilled craftsman spent his entire life in the trade, only to have his image permanently etched into history by his own apprentice's machine. Anyone who saw this would be heartbroken.]

[You've done so many bad things, streamer. You made me cry like a dog on New Year's Eve.]

Lin Xi walked to the worktable and steadily lifted the solid aluminum alloy bust, which weighed over ten kilograms, with both hands.

He turned around, walked up to Li Jianguo, bent down slightly, and handed the statue over.

"Master."

"Happy New Year."

Li Jianguo stretched out his hand, then withdrew it.

He rubbed his rough fingers along the seam of his trousers, hesitated for several seconds, and then tremblingly took the heavy metal statue.

He looked down at the "himself" in his hand.

A tear fell onto the brim of the statue's hat and slid down the texture of the aluminum alloy.

"Master."

Lin Xi's voice was very soft.

Machines are always just tools.

"This five-axis machine was able to carve this statue, not because it is any kind of divine being."

"It's because its system takes in your data, as well as the parameters and experience accumulated by many experienced workers over a lifetime."

"How to choose the feed rate, how to leave the margin, when to retract the blade, and when to let the blade rest."

"These didn't come out of thin air."

"Behind every knife stroke is the feel you've honed over decades, with hands blistered from blood."

Lin Xi looked at everyone standing in the workshop.

Old and young.

Those wearing anti-static clothing and goggles.

The back of my hand has burns, and the machine oil under my fingernails can never be completely washed off.

"Machines cannot replace the soul of workers."

"It simply frees up your hands."

"Let you go and build something even further."

He paused for half a second.

The voice wasn't loud, but it struck a chord deep within everyone's heart.

"Let's create stars and the sea."

The workshop remained quiet for a long time.

After a while, the intermittent sounds of firecrackers outside could be heard coming down from the ventilation ducts.

Then, Li Jianguo suddenly chuckled.

He wiped his face hard with his sleeve, hugged the statue to his chest, and cursed:

"You little brat..."

"Why are you crying during the Lunar New Year..."

As he continued cursing, his voice became hoarse.

Finally, he glanced down at the statue and muttered to himself:

"What a waste of money! 7075 is used to carve my old face."

Upon hearing this, the experienced workers finally couldn't hold back and burst out laughing with red eyes.

Zhao Qiang clapped his hands hard twice and shouted at the top of his lungs:

"Clap your hands!"

"What are you standing there for!"

A thunderous applause erupted, mixed with whistles, stomping feet, and a few barely suppressed sobs.

Inside the ventilation duct, the sounds of firecrackers from outside could still be heard intermittently.

On the ground, it was the Spring Festival of 1985.

Every home is lit up, bidding farewell to the old year and welcoming the new.

Thirty meters underground, a group of aerospace engineers spent the most special New Year's Eve of their lives around a machine tool that had just conquered the world and a cold yet hot metal statue.