Studying at Western University starts with a knife-forging competition

On Sunday afternoon, Lin Yuan took the marinated beef out of the refrigerator and checked it. The beef ribs and sirloin were marinated with two different marinades—the ribs were marinated with minced garlic, light soy sauce, brown sugar, chili powder and a little apple cider vinegar, while the sirloin was only rubbed with coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper.

He made his own marinade, instead of using ready-made barbecue sauce. After coming to the United States, he tried the bottled sauces from the supermarket a few times, but he always found them too sweet. The sweetness overpowered the meat flavor, leaving only the aftertaste of syrup in the end.

He put the food container into an insulated bag and checked the probe thermometer and barbecue tongs in his backpack again. Matt wasn't in the dorm; he said he had a group discussion he couldn't cancel, and before leaving, he wailed for a full two minutes, saying that missing Lin Yuan's barbecue was worse than failing a course.

Lin Yuan said he'd left him a portion of marinated ribs in the fridge, to be baked in the oven at 200 degrees Celsius for two hours, flipping them once. Matt said oven-baked and charcoal-grilled ribs are not the same thing. Lin Yuan said he was right, but Matt didn't have a choice.

The professor's house is about a fifteen-minute drive north of Clemson, in a quiet residential area with rows of hickory trees lining the road.

In March, the afternoon sun in South Carolina was just right, and the wind carried the scent of pine needles and hay as it blew through the tree canopy.

Lin Yuan rang the doorbell, and the professor's wife, Mrs. Sandra, opened the door. She was wearing an apron with a sunflower pattern and had her hair newly permed.

"You've finally arrived. Robert's been saying all morning that you were bringing raw meat to grill today. I asked him what the difference was, and he said there was a big difference: freshly grilled meat has a charred crust on the surface, which disappears when you bring it over and reheat it."

"He's right. That charred crust is the Maillard reaction that occurs when the sugars and amino acids in the meat are heated to high temperatures. If you leave it out after it's cooked, the crust will absorb moisture and soften, making it taste much worse."

Mrs. Sandra shook her head after listening, then smiled and led him through the living room. The lawn in the backyard was neatly trimmed, and several camellias were planted near the fence, in full bloom, their red and white petals carpeting the ground.

In the center of the lawn stood several folding tables covered with blue and white checkered tablecloths, on which were already several plates of salad and bread. A grill was set up on the east side of the lawn, the charcoal already burning, the grayish-white charcoal gleaming with an even orange-red glow in the afternoon sun.

Robert was standing by the grill, a glass of iced tea in his hand, chatting with two elderly men of similar age. Seeing Lin Yuan, he put the glass down on the table and beckoned him over.

"Come on, let me introduce you. This is Frank Morrison, from the Chemistry Department. Frank, this is Lin Yuan. He made the knife you talked about that developed cloud-like patterns after acid etching."

Frank reached out and shook hands with Lin Yuan, smiling as he said, "It's you. Robert brought a sample of the patterned steel you made to the department last time, and I examined it under a microscope for a long time. The corrosion depth of that pattern was controlled exceptionally well. Did you figure out the concentration of ferric chloride and the soaking time yourself?"

"I just experimented randomly. At first, I soaked it for too long, which eroded away the dark layer and blurred the patterns. Later, I timed it and gradually increased the time. After several attempts, I finally found the right range."

"It's not easy. It all comes down to feel and experience; there's no readily available data to look up." Frank nodded, took a sip of red wine, and didn't press for further technical details. He simply said, "Is your grilling skill similar to forging? I noticed your flipping technique is particularly steady."

"Almost done. Flip it when it's done cooking, don't be greedy for a little longer."

Another man next to him reached out his hand. He was probably in his early forties, with a receding hairline, and wearing a light gray polo shirt. He introduced himself as Peter Harrison, a former student of Robert, who now works as an industrial safety consultant for the state government.

"I heard the professor mention your competition. You signed a confidentiality agreement, right? I won't ask about the specifics. But when he called me, he said something—that your sword is something he's never seen before in front of a forge in his entire life."

His use of adjectives is usually very restrained, so for him to say something like that must mean he's not an ordinary person.

"Professor, you flatter me." Lin Yuan didn't know how to respond, so he just smiled.

"Okay, I won't pressure you. I'll watch it myself after the show airs."

Lin Yuan took the food containers out of the insulated bag and arranged them on the worktable next to the grill. Lifting the lids, the aroma of the marinade wafted out, a blend of garlicky spiciness, black pepper spiciness, and brown sugar sweetness.

Several people chatting at the table turned their heads in this direction at the same time, like a gust of wind suddenly blowing from the kitchen into the backyard.

Lin Yuan picked up the tongs and laid the ribs one by one on the grill. The meat sizzled as it touched the hot cast iron grill, followed by the first drip of juices, and a thin layer of light blue smoke rose from the charcoal fire.

"The color of this cigarette is beautiful," Frank said, standing beside him with a glass of wine. "The temperature is just right."

"Blue smoke comes out when the charcoal is fully burned. Black smoke means it's not fully burned yet, the fire is too fast." Lin Yuan flipped the rib over, the charred crust had been roasted by the charcoal fire and had a light brown caramel pattern.

The courtyard gradually filled with guests. Mrs. Sandra brought out another plate of cornbread. Peter's wife brought a bowl of potato salad. Frank's wife took out a bottle of her homemade plum wine, pouring it for everyone and recommending it to each person she met.

A young lecturer came over to watch Lin Yuan grill the meat, saying that he had also tried grilling ribs at home, but every time the outside was burnt and the inside was still raw. Lin Yuan said, "Turn the heat down a bit, flip it a few more times, and don't always try to get it cooked in one go."

The young lecturer nodded, saying it was similar to conducting an experiment, and that he was just impatient. Lin Yuan said, "Then treat it like an experiment, and don't skip any steps."

Peter took a plate of ribs that had just been handed to him, took a bite, chewed a few times, and then looked down at the meat in his hand: "This is better than the one I had at that place in Atlanta. What was it called again—the barbecue place downtown with the long lines."

"You mean Fox Bros., right?"

"Yes, that's the place. Your meat is more flavorful than theirs, and it's easier to chew."

"They have a lot of customers, so they can't marinate every piece of meat for the required amount of time in advance." Lin Yuan used tongs to flip another piece over. "When you make it yourself, you don't have to rush. You can marinate it for a full twelve hours. Even an hour less and the taste will be completely different."

Peter wiped his fingers with a napkin and grabbed another piece. He stood by the grill and ate a few bites, then, as if suddenly remembering something, asked Lin Yuan, "I heard from the professor that you're looking for a place to open a forge?"

"Yes, with my roommate. I looked at a few places a few days ago, and there was one in the old factory area on the west side of the campus. The location was quite suitable, but the lease was a bit complicated—the landlord required us to coordinate with the local union to hire people."

"I know that area. You mean Pat's union, right?" Peter put the bone on the edge of the paper plate, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and said, "I worked on a fire safety standards project there a couple of years ago and dealt with them for several months."

Pat has a stubborn temper, but he's not a rip-off. If you want to clarify the rent and hiring terms, I can put in a good word for you.

Is it convenient?

"What's inconvenient about that? Send me a copy of the terms you've negotiated, and I'll call him tonight and have him give you a bottom line. But one thing—he's quite particular about his hiring practices; the person he recommends to you is definitely someone he trusts. You..."

"You can do the interview yourself if you want, it's your decision in the end anyway." He took out his phone from his pocket and exchanged numbers with Lin Yuan. "Send me the message later, I'll talk to him."

"Okay, thank you for your help." Lin Yuan saved Peter's number into his contacts, then sent him a screenshot of the rent terms he had discussed with Carol. Peter glanced at it, then walked to the corner of the yard to make the call.

Mrs. Sandra came out of the house and sat under the parasol by the door for a few minutes, watching Lin Yuan turn over a new batch of thick-cut sirloin steaks. She remarked that the tomato and beef stew Robert brought home last time was the best stewed beef she had eaten in years.

Lin Yuan said that he could make an extra batch next time and bring it over. She immediately said that she would prepare the ingredients in advance—she had tried several times but could not make it taste the same.

As the last batch of thick-cut sirloin steaks on the grill neared completion, Frank Morrison strolled over, glass of wine in hand. He had already drunk three glasses of plum wine, his face flushed, and he spoke more casually than before.

"Your grill uses a cast iron grating, the same material as the base of that old crucible furnace in our chemistry lab. Those old furnaces were just replaced last year and are still gathering dust in the warehouse." He took a sip of his drink, then, as if suddenly remembering something, pointed at Lin Yuan. "By the way—our department upgraded a batch of lab equipment last semester. The old metallographic microscope, Rockwell hardness tester, and a spectrometer were all replaced."

The items aren't new, but they're very well maintained, and their precision is still intact. If you were to open a forging workshop, these would be enough for you.

The school needs to go through the asset disposal process, which I handle. I can help you apply for a low-price transfer; the price won't exceed one-fifth of the new equipment. Anyway, it's just taking up space in the warehouse; it's better for you to use it than for it to sit there collecting dust.

Lin Yuan was about to say something polite when he caught a glimpse of Robert standing not far behind Frank, holding an iced tea. His face was expressionless, but his chin was slightly lowered. He had seen that gesture countless times—in the workshop, Robert always had that expression before he had to make a judgment.

"Thank you so much. I really need this equipment," Lin Yuan said.

"Okay. I'll send the list to your email next week. Take a look and see which ones you want. Just fill out an application form, and I'll handle the process." Frank waved his hand. "I've got nothing better to do anyway."

As evening approached, the last piece of sirloin on the grill was cut in half and eaten by the two men. The yard quieted down a bit as Frank and several guests took their leave. Mrs. Sandra was clearing the table inside, the occasional soft clinking of cups and plates drifting through the air.

The sunset on the horizon transitioned from orange to deep blue, and the distant hickory trees became black silhouettes in the twilight. The heat on the grass dissipated, and a coolness seeped up from the soil.

Robert told Lin Yuan to stay until the end. The two stood on the lawn in the backyard, the professor holding an iced tea, looking in the direction of the camellias in the distance, his tone a few decibels slower than when they chatted in the afternoon.

"The equipment in the warehouse isn't all like what Frank said. It's not old equipment being phased out—last year the school received a special grant to upgrade all the equipment in the entire materials analysis lab."

The original equipment had been used for a little over a year, and most of it was still under warranty. The upgraded equipment should, in principle, either be transferred to the asset pool awaiting internal allocation or auctioned off publicly.

Frank, the director in charge of supplies allocation, said, "'Lower-price transfer' is giving you an explanation, making sure both the price and the process are acceptable."

Lin Yuan listened quietly without interrupting. Robert turned to look at him.

"Frank owes me a favor—when he was applying for tenure, I took over his teaching hours for a whole year. You don't need to thank him specifically for this, and there's no rush to repay it. Just make good use of this equipment, let him feel that he made the right choice in giving it to you, and that's enough. The favor is just an account in your favor; keep it in mind for now. Once you've established yourself, you'll naturally know how to repay him when he needs it."

"I've got it."

"I'll send you the equipment list tomorrow." Robert patted Lin Yuan on the shoulder, his tone suddenly returning to its usual casualness. "The remaining spare ribs, Sandra, can take with you. Take them back to your roommate—what's her name again?"

"Matt."

"Yes. He missed the barbecue and should be compensated."