Studying at Western University starts with a knife-forging competition

Lin Yuan returned to Clemson on Sunday afternoon. Matt drove to the airport to pick him up, and as soon as he got in the car, he smelled that familiar mix of potato chips and energy drinks.

Matt, unusually, didn't immediately ask about the details of the race. He just glanced at him at a red light, said, "You look like you need to sleep all day," and then turned down the car stereo, barely speaking the rest of the way.

Back in the dorm, the living room was much cleaner than before I left. There were no empty cans piled up on the coffee table, the coats and game controllers on the sofa had been put on the armchairs, and even the dust on the TV screen had been wiped off.

Lin Yuan put his backpack on the chair, sat down on the sofa, leaned back, and closed his eyes for a while. The competition itself wasn't tiring—forging skills was something he'd been doing for over a decade, and his body was already used to it.

But the combined weight of the competition over several days, the cameras, the judges, and the pressure at each elimination round made him truly feel exhausted only after he relaxed.

Matt poked his head out of the kitchen, carrying two cans of Coke. He placed one can on the coffee table in front of Lin Yuan, opened the other can, took a sip, and sat down at the other end of the sofa.

"So," Matt said, placing the can of Coke on his lap, "we won. We're champions. And then what? What are your plans?"

"Not for now." Lin Yuan picked up his cola and took a sip. "I signed an agreement before the show aired that I couldn't disclose any information, including the competition results, details of the entries, or what the judges said—none of it can be made public. So I won't post anything related online during this time, and I don't plan to do any promotion."

"When will that be?"

"About a few weeks later. The production team will notify me of the broadcast time in advance, but all content will be kept confidential until then."

Matt nodded, crossed his legs, and twirled the Coke can in his hand. "Okay, the influencer route isn't an option for now. What about that thing you mentioned before—our collaboration on a workshop?"

Lin Yuan placed the Coke can on the coffee table. "This is something we can consider."

"You said before that we'd talk about it after you passed the auditions," Matt said, looking at him. "Now you've not only passed the auditions, you've won the whole competition. I think it's time to put this on the agenda."

"Hmm." Lin Yuan leaned back on the sofa, tapping his fingers lightly on the armrest. "Before, everything I did used the professor's workshop and materials. Those were school resources, fine for students' independent research and course projects. But now the situation is different."

"You're taking private orders now."

"Yes. Doug's short sword was the first order; there will be more in the future. Taking private orders and then using the school's equipment and materials is simply not right. The professor won't say anything, but it's not a matter of his attitude; it's about my own sense of propriety." Lin Yuan stretched his legs and stretched his ankles. "I can borrow space temporarily for one or two swords, but in the long run, I need my own workshop. Equipment, materials, consumables—all of these have to be provided according to commercial standards."

Matt placed the Coke can on the coffee table, leaned forward, and rested his forearms on his knees. "I kept my word. You cook, I buy the equipment. That plan has been sitting there untouched. You said we'd talk about it after the auditions, but now that we've won, there's no need to wait any longer."

"You previously said you wanted to buy the complete set of equipment. Seventy or eighty thousand US dollars is not a small amount. Have you seriously considered it?"

"I've thought about it. I've barely touched the trust income my dad gives me every year—except for buying games and ordering takeout." Matt chuckled to himself, then became serious. "But investing in you will yield visible returns. You've already landed your first custom order. Once the show airs, you'll be getting just as many knife orders as Doug."

The money I invest in the equipment will become the initial capital of your workshop. You decide my percentage; I won't ask for more than that, just enough for me to have my name listed as a 'partner' next to yours, the future renowned bladesmith.

"You've calculated things quite clearly."

"Of course. I studied business." Matt leaned back on the sofa with an air of self-assurance, crossed his arms behind his head, and crossed his legs. "Besides, I'm already looking for a place for you."

Industrial land in South Carolina is much cheaper than commercial land. There is an old warehouse area within a 15-minute drive from the campus, with several units listed for rent.

The area is approximately 1,000 to 1,500 square feet, with high enough ceilings to fit a forge and power hammer. The ventilation ducts can be modified. I've scheduled a site visit with the agent this week; if you're free, you can come with me.

Lin Yuan looked at him. Matt Wayne, a guy who even texts his roommate to ask which drawer he puts his socks in, had quietly done so much preliminary work during the few days he was away in Atlanta for the competition.

"Okay. You set a time, and I'll go with you to see it."

"Okay. There's one more thing—you just said you signed a confidentiality agreement not to talk about the competition, so what about the school's resources? What did you say to the professors?"

"The professor knows the outcome; the production team contacted him beforehand regarding filming permits. He'll keep it a secret," Lin Yuan thought for a moment. "But I'll make it clear to him that he'll handle all future orders himself, without using the school's workshop. This is a basic respect for him and the school."

Matt nodded, picked up the can of Coke, finished the last sip, and stood up to walk towards the kitchen. "Are we cooking tonight? I've been clearing out the fridge while you were gone, throwing away all the spoiled vegetables. I bought some new beef shank and pork belly, and I also bought some scallions and ginger."

"Did you buy ginger this time?"

"I bought it. Do you want to check it?"

"No need." Lin Yuan stood up from the sofa and stretched his shoulders. "I'll make braised pork and oxtail soup tonight. We'll start preparing for Doug's short knife order tomorrow; let's eat dinner first tonight."

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

The next morning, Lin Yuan, carrying an insulated bag, pushed open the door to Professor Robert's workshop. The red brick building was quiet; the forge was not lit, and only a faint smell of metal and machine oil remained in the air. Robert sat in the old chair against the wall, a journal spread out on his lap, and a steaming coffee cup beside him.

Seeing Lin Yuan come in, he closed the journal and put it aside, then took off his glasses.

"I'm back."

"You're back." Lin Yuan placed the insulated bag on the worktable and took out a sealed glass food container. "Tomato and beef brisket stew, please try it."

Robert took the food container and opened the lid. Steam billowed out, the sweet and sour aroma of tomatoes mingling with the rich fat of beef brisket filling the quiet workshop. He picked up his chopsticks, took a piece of beef, chewed it twice, then picked up another piece. He put down his chopsticks, leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms in front of his stomach, and looked at Lin Yuan.

"Champion." He said the word in a flat tone, but his eyes behind his glasses held a hint of undisguised satisfaction.

"Thank you." Lin Yuan sat down on the high stool next to him. "Without your guidance and workshop, I wouldn't have gotten this far."

Robert waved his hand. "Anyone can use the workshop and equipment. Your own skill and judgment are the key." He picked up his chopsticks again, took a piece of tomato, put it in his mouth, and chewed it. "Mark sent me the on-site feedback from the testing phase during the competition. Doug cleaved the dummy, severing the collarbone and four ribs in one strike, saying that the edge retention and cutting efficiency of your sword were unlike anything he'd seen in nine seasons of testing on the show. Nelson cleaved plate armor eight times, creating a through gash, saying the edge was completely unharmed. When I saw these descriptions, I knew—the judges' reactions were beyond normal judging. They were moved by your sword, not because of the show's effect, but because it was something real."

He picked up another piece of beef brisket, chewed it, and then looked up.

"I have some questions about the craftsmanship of the sword you used in the final." His tone shifted from admiration to that of a lecturer.

"Silver's melting point is around 960 degrees Celsius, while the forging temperature of 1084 is above 1000 degrees Celsius. With conventional processes, if you sandwich silver into a steel billet, the silver will melt and flow out during the first heating. How did you manage to do that?"

"Temperature control is one aspect," Lin Yuan said. "But the key is not the temperature, but the forging method. The family technique involves heating the silver to near its melting point and then using a special hammering method to allow the silver and steel to penetrate each other at high temperatures. It's not about hammering the silver into a layer sandwiched in the steel, but about letting the silver and steel fuse together from the contact surface, eventually becoming a whole new material."

Robert's fingers rested on his knee.

"You turned it into an alloy."

"Yes. There is no separate silver layer on the sword. The golden halo you see is not silver reflecting light, but the color of the alloy itself."

Robert paused for a moment, then took off his glasses and placed them on the journal. He looked at Lin Yuan, as if reconfirming something.

"You've forged a new material directly from two metals with melting points nearly 200 degrees apart and completely different crystal structures in a non-vacuum environment." He paused. "Lin Yuan, what you've done in front of the furnace goes beyond the scope of conventional forging processes. If this project were to be developed, it would be enough for you to earn a master's degree in materials science."

Lin Yuan was silent for a few seconds. He knew the professor wasn't just being polite. Robert had been in the field of materials science for thirty years, and when he said a topic was enough for a master's thesis, it truly was enough.

But during his two years at university, he never intended to pursue a deep academic career. The day Doug took out his phone to look at Chinese swords in the restaurant, he knew exactly what he wanted to do—make swords. Take orders. Open his own workshop. Not write papers in a lab.

"Professor," he said slowly, making sure each word was clear, "I've seriously considered pursuing graduate studies. I've applied everything you taught me to forging—metallographic structure, heat treatment curves, stress analysis—I use these every day in front of the furnace. But I don't really want to stay in school for graduate studies. I want to make knives."

Robert leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped in front of his stomach, his expression calm. He didn't respond immediately, but he also showed no signs of anger or disappointment.

"I think I guessed it," he finally spoke, his tone as unhurried as ever. "I read the test feedback Mark sent back that day several times. You gave the champion's check to Greg after the finals. He didn't tell me, but I asked Mark about it. From that moment on, I knew you wouldn't stay at the school."

"It's not because I don't like academics," Lin Yuan said. "I'm learning very seriously what you teach me. I wrote a twelve-page term paper for your course, twice the length required by the department—because I genuinely find it interesting."

But I prefer standing in front of the furnace, turning a piece of steel into a usable knife, and handing it over to someone else. The sense of accomplishment from that is more direct and immediate for me than from writing a thesis.

Robert took off his glasses, slowly wiped the lenses with the hem of his shirt, and put them back on.

"There are regrets. You have potential in academia, but not everyone with strong hands-on skills possesses your level of theoretical analysis ability. I understand the path you want to take. And—you're not leaving materials science."

Every judgment you make in front of the forging furnace is essentially an application of metallographic and heat treatment theories. The only difference is that your paper isn't published in a journal, but forged into steel.

Lin Yuan nodded.

Robert picked up his chopsticks again and took another piece of beef brisket. His expression had switched from serious to normal, and his tone had relaxed as well.

"There's a gathering at my house this weekend. A few old colleagues from the department, and some of my former students. You're coming too. You've made barbecue for them a few times at the workshop before, and some of them are still talking about it."

I told them you'd be coming today, so the invitation was sent out in advance. You couldn't refuse—Mrs. Sandra specifically asked for your attendance.

"The few times I brought it, I just seasoned it to my own taste, so it's not quite the same as American-style barbecue."

"That's why they're so interested," Robert said, putting down his chopsticks and tapping the edge of the food container with his finger. "My wife has tried to replicate your marinade recipe a few times, and each time she says it's just a little off."

So she specifically instructed me—this time, you should bring raw meat to grill on-site. Not grilled meat brought over, but raw meat brought to her home, marinated, placed on the grill, and turned right under her nose. She said that last time you cooked it and brought it over, which was also delicious, but not as good as freshly grilled.

"Understood. It needs to be freshly baked."

"Yes. Just make the same dishes you were good at last time. You can choose the beef—you know better than I do whether it's sirloin or ribeye. Bring your own marinade, we'll mix it when we get there. I've cleared out a shelf in the workshop's small refrigerator for you; you can leave the meat you bought this morning here to freeze, and bring it over this afternoon." Robert stood up, tucked the magazine under his arm, and paused at the door. "Don't bring too much. It'll be enough for six people."