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

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A few minutes later, the optical tracker in the lobby switched to the view of the outside of the tower.

On the black-and-white monitor, Liu, carrying a canvas tool bag and wearing a dark blue work uniform, was clinging to the steel ladder, using both his hands and feet.

It is over fifty meters high and has no obstructions on any side.

The draft through the canyon cut through the tower like a knife, making a sharp whistling sound.

Da Liu's clothes billowed high in the strong wind.

The person looked like a flag hanging on a wire, swaying slightly with the tower's tremors.

With each step he climbed, he had to first attach the safety rope with hook to the steel bar above him.

Once the lock is confirmed, use both hands and feet simultaneously to move upwards. The movement is extremely slow, yet so solid that there is not a single unnecessary movement.

In the hall, dozens of eyes were fixed on that tiny black dot.

No one spoke; the only sound was the rustling of papers being blown by the ceiling fan.

Lin Xi clenched her fists tightly.

He knew that future space exploration would also face difficulties and obstacles.

But at this moment, seeing a living person risking their life against nature in the unprotected high altitude for an abnormal signal still has a huge visual and psychological impact.

In the live stream in my mind, the chat was unusually quiet.

After a long while, comments finally appeared on the screen:

I used to think that building rockets was just sitting in a cleanroom typing on a keyboard, but I never imagined that in the 80s, this work was so hardcore it was terrifying.

[That's tens of meters high, and it's an openwork iron staircase! I have a fear of heights; just looking at it makes my legs go weak. That guy is so steady!]

This isn't maintenance; it's risking your life to defuse mines.

It took Da Liu a full twenty minutes to finally climb to the high-altitude work platform where the instrument cabin was located.

The platform is narrow, surrounded only by a waist-high iron railing.

The wind is even stronger here.

In the monitor footage, Liu had to crouch down, lower his center of gravity, and slowly move closer to the telemetry antenna.

He took out a detection probe from his toolbox and connected it to a handheld microammeter.

"Da Liu, report the situation."

Zhong Weimin pressed the call button.

"The wind is too strong, I can't hear you!"

Da Liu shouted at the top of his lungs, but the wind noise severely interfered with communications.

"I'll measure the impedance first!"

He took off his bulky outer gloves, leaving only a thin layer of antistatic insulating gloves.

Hands groped through the cold metal gaps.

Inside the hall, the waveform of the telemetry channel was still jumping wildly.

Time passed second by second.

Da Liu repeatedly checked around the base of the antenna, and the pointer of the microammeter swung violently.

He leaned half his body out over the edge of the platform, his gaze following the feed line downwards until it finally stopped at an extremely hidden seam.

"Found it!"

Da Liu's voice sounded somewhat distorted in the wind.

Something's stuck in the gap!

He took a deep breath, gripped the steel grille at the bottom with both feet, held onto the railing with one hand, and reached into the narrow gap that was only two fingers wide with the other.

Apply pressure with your fingers and pull outwards little by little.

With his movement, a palm-sized silver object was pulled out.

The monitor lens zooms in.

It was a crumpled piece of aluminum-plated film.

Everyone in the hall immediately recognized that this was the inner layer of the canvas insulation material used a few days ago to "cover" the rocket with a blanket for rain protection and heat preservation.

Clearly, the strong mountain winds of the past few days tore the canvas liner, and this thin film with a metallic aluminum coating was blown into the gap of the antenna feed, causing the two ends to overlap and resulting in short-circuit interference.

Da Liu stuffed the film into his pocket, then took out a roll of aerospace-grade sealing tape from his toolbox.

He gritted his teeth, braving the fierce wind, and tightly wrapped the gap and all the seams around it that might be blown open by the wind with three layers.

After doing all this, he pressed the edge of the tape firmly to make sure it adhered well.

"Inspection complete, gaps sealed."

Da Liu picked up the communicator.

In the control room, the operator shouted excitedly:

"Waveform recovery!"

"Channel B is stable; interference signals have completely disappeared!"

A suppressed sigh erupted in the hall.

Lu Guoliang's tense shoulders finally relaxed. He reached out, picked up the large porcelain mug on the table, and took a big gulp of the tea that had long since gone cold.

Chung Wei-min gripped the walkie-talkie, his tone unusually tinged with a hint of emotion:

"Big Liu, well done."

"Slow down and be careful."

In the video, Lau did not celebrate or make any other moves.

He put the tools back into his bag in order, fastened the canvas buckle, reattached the safety rope, and began to descend step by step down the terrifying openwork ladder.

Lin Xi stood quietly in front of the large screen, her gaze never leaving the descending figure.

The thin film wasn't heavy, but in Lin Xi's eyes, it felt incredibly heavy.

Five years ago, in 1980, on the very day the Red Star 2 rocket arrived at the Northwest Launch Base, it faced an explosion crisis due to the failure of its sealing ring.

At that time, Lin Xi, relying on her knowledge that was ahead of its time, used the advanced algorithms in the live broadcast room to find the microwave breathing effect and successfully saved the rocket.

That was his first battle in this era.

Afterwards, although he didn't say it, he was more or less filled with the arrogance of a time traveler.

He felt he held a hand far ahead of his time, and believed he was there to "elevate" this backward industrial system.

But today, at this very moment.

Watching the surveillance footage of the old technician braving the strong winds, half-squatting on a high-altitude platform, using his frozen fingers to pry out the short-circuit membrane.

Lin Xi suddenly understood.

A few days ago, Lao Lei was scolding his young apprentice Xiao Peng in the workshop.

Today, Da Liu risked his life to climb the tower to troubleshoot the problem.

They lacked a systematic approach, a reserve of knowledge for the future, and even basic testing equipment and temperature-controlled workshops.

However, they have the toughest bones.

By manually climbing tens of meters of iron towers and meticulously scrutinizing every screw and every pipeline, they managed to nip those potential hazards that could have destroyed national strategic assets in the bud.

China's aerospace industry was able to survive in an era when it was poor and backward and subject to a comprehensive technological blockade by the West.

The ability to send satellites into space time and time again has never been due to any one genius with special abilities.

What truly supports this industrial behemoth are countless ordinary people like Lao Lei and Da Liu, who are determined to make even the smallest error, down to the millimeter, and who refuse to overlook even a tiny piece of thin film.

It was they who, with an almost obsessive sense of responsibility and their own flesh and blood, made up for the country's inherent deficiencies in its industrial base and infrastructure.

Lin Xi let out a long sigh of relief.

He looked at Lu Guoliang, his tone less youthful exuberance and more serious and profound:

"President Lu, for the next rocket, we absolutely cannot let them risk their lives like this again."

Lu Guoliang turned his head.

"The progress of that three-vertical factory in Daliangshan must be guaranteed."

"Tell me what you need, and I'll do my best to support you."

Lin Xi's tone was resolute.

"The second Red Star No. 2 bundle must be brought into the factory and assembled and tested under the eaves."

Looking at Lin Xi's determined eyes, Lu Guoliang nodded silently.

In the live stream room, the barrage of comments flowed silently.

This is what true master craftsmanship looks like.

When I used to read online novels, I always thought the protagonist could single-handedly carry the entire story. Now I understand that even the most powerful protagonist can't do without the unsung heroes who do the bare minimum work.

[A salute to them! Without their hardship, there would be no vast ocean of stars.]

[President Lin has grown up. He's no longer that naive young man who only thought about showing off his skills; he now truly understands the spirit of this era.]

The alarm was lifted, and the testing hall returned to its busy, orderly state.

Lin Xi walked to the window.

The wind was still blowing, but a faint glimmer of light was beginning to appear on the edge of the gloomy sky.

The window for the maiden flight will open in mid-June.