Studying at Western University starts with a knife-forging competition

"You get nervous too?"

"Can't I be nervous?"

"No." Matt scratched his messy, bird's nest-like black hair, organizing his thoughts, "It's just that I always thought you were the kind of person—how should I put it—the kind of person who has everything under control."

Like when you're cooking, you know exactly when to add salt, when to flip the food, and when to turn off the heat. You never make dishes that are so salty they're inedible.

"That's because I've practiced in the kitchen for many years," Lin Yuan said. "And forging too. But I've never participated in this competition before. I don't know what the judges will ask, I don't know the level of the other contestants, and I don't know if the environment and equipment on site are good. There are many things that are beyond my control."

Matt was silent for a moment. Then he picked up a can of Coke from the coffee table and gestured towards Lin Yuan.

"Do you know how nervous I was when I played ranked for the first time?"

How nervous were you?

"My hands were shaking," Matt said. "Really shaking. I couldn't even press the buttons accurately. I was completely dominated in that game for fifteen minutes, and I didn't even want to look at the rankings afterward."

"And then what?"

"After playing more, I got less nervous. Not that I wasn't nervous at all—I just got used to it." Matt took another sip of his Coke. "Being nervous is a good thing. It means you care."

Lin Yuan glanced at him.

Matt usually talks about potato chips and energy drinks, so when he occasionally says something insightful, it can be a bit odd.

Where did you learn that from?

"What? Where did you see that?"

"That sentence."

"What are you talking about?" Matt looked bewildered. "I said it myself. No, you think I can't say anything reasonable, right?"

Lin Yuan smiled and said, "Okay, you said it."

Then he got up from the sofa and went to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and checked what was left—a few eggs, half a carton of bacon, a piece of beef shank wrapped in plastic wrap, and leftover rice from yesterday. That was enough.

"What are you doing?" Matt peeked out from behind the sofa.

"Cook."

"Now? What time is it? It's still early for dinner—"

"Make tomorrow's food. You can just reheat it yourself tomorrow. Heat the pan, add a little oil, and stir-fry the vegetables evenly. I've already prepared the beef shank and braising liquid from the fridge. If you want braised beef, just take it out and slice it. Remember to sharpen your knife before you slice it—"

Matt didn't answer. Lin Yuan peeked out from the kitchen and saw Matt holding his phone, his fingers flying across the screen, his expression as focused as if he were taking notes in class.

Lin Yuan didn't say anything more, took the eggs out of the refrigerator, and started preparing to cook.

The oak tree outside the window swayed in the wind, its shadow flickering on the glass. He turned on the kitchen light, casting a warm yellow glow on the countertop.

Departing tomorrow. Reporting in the day after tomorrow. Competition the day after that.

He cracked the eggs into a bowl, whisked them with chopsticks, and started making fried rice.

-----------------

Before heading to Atlanta, Lin Yuan went to the workshop to ask Robert for leave.

He'll be staying at the film studio in Atlanta for the entire week next week, so he can't come to the workshop. He needs to let the professor know.

When I opened the door, Robert was already there.

There shouldn't be anyone at the workshop on Saturday mornings. The professor usually only comes on weekday afternoons; on Saturdays, he usually stays at home with his wife or prunes the camellias he planted himself in the yard.

But today he sat in the old chair against the wall, an open journal on his lap, and a steaming cup of coffee on the worktable beside him.

He looked up when he heard the door open.

"Shouldn't you have left today?"

"My flight is this afternoon." Lin Yuan put his backpack on the worktable. "I came to tell you that I won't be able to come to the workshop next week."

"He's here to ask for leave." Robert closed the journal and put it aside, then picked up his coffee and took a sip.

Lin Yuan stood in front of the worktable, feeling that he had said everything he needed to say, but also feeling that something was missing.

He looked at Robert, his lips moved, but he didn't say anything.

Robert put down his coffee cup and glanced at him.

"nervous?"

Lin Yuan wanted to shake his head, but in the end, he let out a sigh of relief and spoke the truth.

"A little. I've never been on TV before. I've never recorded a show." Lin Yuan sat down on a high stool by the work table, his hands on his knees, his fingers slightly clenched. "I don't know what it will be like on set. I don't know what the judges will ask, I don't know the level of the other contestants, and I don't know if I'll—won't know what to do in front of the camera."

After uttering the last word, he himself felt that his words sounded too weak.

He would never act like this in front of the forge.

When you hold a hammer in your hand, every blow is a certainty—where it will land, how much force it will have, and how to follow up with the next blow.

But he hadn't even stood in front of the furnace yet, and he had no hammer in his hand, only a bunch of uncertain thoughts.

Robert did not speak immediately.

He took out the pack of chewing gum from his pocket, pulled out a piece, slowly unwrapped the foil, put it in his mouth, and chewed it a couple of times.

Then he looked up at Lin Yuan, his tone indifferent.

"You don't need to worry about the camera."

Lin Yuan raised his head.

"The camera is what the cameraman has to think about. The audience is what the production team has to think about. The judges look at what you produce, not how well you perform in front of the camera." Robert's voice was calm and unhurried, as if he were explaining a basic concept that students had asked many times in class. "You only have one thing to think about—do your job well."

When the hammer falls, your attention isn't on the camera, and the camera won't distract you.

Lin Yuan's fingers slowly loosened.

"You did two semesters of independent research in my workshop," Robert continued, his eyes behind his glasses calm and confident. "The heat treatment data you handled was more rigorous than that of most graduate students in the department."

Your forging skills—I told you last time, in any competition, you wouldn't be one of those eliminated in the first round.

"It's not just the first round. You know the quality of the samples you made over the past eight days. I sent the metallographic photos of those composite forged billets to my colleagues in the department, and you've heard their comments." Robert folded a piece of chewing gum wrapper into a small square and placed it next to his coffee cup. "Now you need to pay attention to something else—some contestants have excellent technique, but they tend to make mistakes when they get nervous at the competition venue."

The problem wasn't with the technology, it was with their focus. They were spending all their energy worrying about what the judges would think, what the audience would think, and how well the camera was rolling; when it came to actually doing the work, their minds were elsewhere.

He stood up and walked up to Lin Yuan.

"Making knives and cooking are the same. When you're making braised pork, you don't think about whether it looks good on the plate. You only care about whether the meat is tender and whether the soy sauce and caramel color are balanced to your liking. Once the heat is right, turn off the heat and take it out of the pot. It will naturally look good on the plate. Making knives is the same."

Lin Yuan nodded slowly.

"Focus your attention on your hammer and your knife," Robert patted him on the shoulder. "As long as you don't make mistakes and play to your usual level, you'll win this match."

He added calmly, "Because of your normal performance, you've already reached a level that many people can't achieve even with their best efforts."