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

Upon hearing this, the experts put down their teacups and "toothpaste tubes" and followed Zhang Zhengguo out the door.

On the ground floor of the Fifth Academy of Aerospace Science and Technology, there was a huge object covered with a thick red cloth.

Its base is about two meters in diameter and nearly two meters high, presenting a bell-shaped outline that is wider at the bottom and narrower at the top.

Lin Xi followed Qin Lao out, glanced at the outline, and instantly understood.

The director of the Imperial Capital Scientific Instrument Factory stepped forward, grabbed the corner of the red cloth, and yanked it sharply.

With a whoosh.

A full-scale, handcrafted model of the spacecraft's return capsule, made from countless pieces of hard aluminum alloy that were hammered and riveted together, was vividly displayed before everyone in the early spring sunshine of 1985.

It's rough.

On the outer aluminum plate, there are hammer marks one after another.

The rivets varied in size and were not arranged neatly, but each one was firmly anchored.

The round porthole on the side is just a piece of ordinary thick glass.

The edges of the glass were covered with black sealant, making it look somewhat clumsy.

The so-called heat-resistant sole is just a few pieces of wood pieced together and then painted with a layer of black paint.

But it was this rough, almost shabby thing that made everyone in the yard stop in their tracks.

Because it's not just for show.

It is a real physical model meticulously built according to the blueprints of Dawn 1 from 15 years ago!

The scene was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Chief Engineer Gao's lips trembled slightly as he slowly stepped forward.

He stretched out his calloused hand and touched the cold aluminum casing.

My fingertips slid along the rows of rivets.

Halfway down the slide, his hand suddenly stopped.

A tear fell onto the bottom of the cart.

"Old buddy...we meet again."

Chief Engineer Gao muttered to himself.

In the 1970s, they used such rudimentary models, with measuring tapes and stopwatches, to measure ergonomic dimensions inch by inch and to deduce the range of motion of astronauts in confined spaces.

Later, the project was cancelled, the model was dismantled, and the blueprints were locked in a cabinet, never to be seen again for fifteen years.

Today, the veteran workers at the instrument factory dug out old blueprints and, with their hammers, managed to bring back the dream that never took flight.

The factory director walked to the side, grabbed a heavy metal handle, and pulled it outward with force.

"Click".

The hatch opened, revealing the cramped interior space and two makeshift iron-framed seats.

"Dear chief engineers."

The factory manager smiled, turned to the side, and gestured for them to proceed.

"The interior layout, the position of the instrument panel, and the angle of the seats are exactly the same as the original drawings."

"Who would like to sit down first?"

"It's also a way to experience the feeling of 'ascending to heaven'."

This statement is like a spark thrown into a pile of dry wood.

The veteran experts who were seriously debating thrust, cycle, and materials in the conference room were all agitated at this moment.

"I'll go first!"

"I was in charge of seat suspension back then!"

Engineer Li was the first to rush forward, using both hands and feet to climb into the nearly one-meter-high hatch.

"You know nothing about ride comfort; you're only talking about the springs!"

"I work in life support; I need to go in and check if the space is oppressive!"

Another senior expert grabbed the back of Li's shirt and forced himself to squeeze through.

"Don't push, don't push, let's go by age!"

"Based on what age? I drew these door frame dimensions myself back then!"

In the open space, this group of experts and chief engineers, whose average age is over fifty and who usually walk with a brisk pace and whose words carry great weight, are now like a group of children who have seen a new toy.

They crowded in front of the cart, joking with each other about the times they studied blueprints in the basement back in the day.

They all rushed to squeeze into the aluminum can without even a heat shield and experience it for themselves.

Lin Xi stepped aside, crossed her arms, and quietly watched the scene unfold.

Sunlight streamed through the courtyard wall, falling on the elderly people with their white hair.

Their backs were somewhat hunched, yet they were edged with gold.

Li, who was at the front of the line, finally managed to squeeze into the seat on the left. He had barely lay down when he shouted at the top of his lungs:

"Old Gao!"

"This seat is so tight it's uncomfortable!"

"You definitely miscalculated your measurements back then!"

Chief Engineer Gao was outside, frantically patting the aluminum alloy casing:

"You've gained ten pounds over the years, is it my fault?"

"Hurry up and come out, it's my turn!"

The courtyard erupted in laughter.

At this moment, the live stream chat completely broke down, densely filling the view:

[They couldn't hold it in anymore; this is what our aerospace workers are like.]

[A group of white-haired old men lining up to board a fake spaceship—it's both heartbreaking and inspiring!]

They weren't just crawling into aluminum cans; they were digging into their youth, fifteen years too late.

[They say they're looking for a new feeling, but really they just want to rekindle the dreams they never had the chance to take flight back then.]

Lin Xi looked at the dark and cramped cockpit model and was about to walk forward.

"Let them make a fuss."

A gentle voice sounded beside me.

Lin Xi turned his head, and Qian Lao was already standing beside him at some point.

The old man did not push his way up like the others.

He simply stood with his hands behind his back, quietly looking at the rough model and at the old men who were laughing like children.

"They did the same thing fifteen years ago when they finalized the Dawn One program."

"They crowded outside the tin can, vying to go in and sit down."

"Everyone feels that as long as you sit inside, you're a little closer to the sky."

Mr. Qian's voice was very soft, as if he were recalling something, or perhaps giving instructions.

"Fifteen years have passed, and many of the people who drew the blueprints back then haven't made it to this day."

Old Qian turned around and patted Lin Xi on the shoulder.

That hand was thin and dry, yet as heavy as Mount Tai.

"Xiao Lin, we old bones have built up the foundation for you."

"Next, we, the older generation, will watch you build this flying ladder from the ground."

Lin Xi looked at the dark and cramped cockpit model.

Looking at the white hair at Qian Lao's temples.

I also saw the elderly people who were still gathered around the return capsule and refused to leave.

He nodded vigorously.

At that moment, Lin Xi knew clearly.

The rough aluminum return capsule in front of us is not just a relic of the project from fifteen years ago.

It was the last hand extended in the old space age.

It is also the first door that has truly been opened in the new space age.