Chapter 166: The Mechanical Dream of a Fifth-Class Worker

Zhao Jianguo just arrived at the Steel Rolling Factory gate when he saw Jia Dongxu squatting in a corner, a piece of paper in his hand, tearing it into tiny fragments. A gust blew, and the shredded paper fluttered like snowflakes, spiraling into the drain opening.

When he got closer, he realized it was a Fifth-Class Worker promotion application form.

"What are you doing?" Zhao Jianguo stopped, his voice neither high nor low.

Jia Dongxu looked up at him, his face neither smiling nor angry, just as calm as water that has just been boiled and the fire put out. "I'm done," he said, "I don't want to fight for that title any more."

Zhao Jianguo raised an eyebrow: "So many people in the factory line up to climb higher, and you, you voluntarily threw it away?"

"I used to think being a Fifth-Class Worker was the pinnacle of skill," Jia Dongxu rolled the last bit of paper into a ball, shoved it into his mouth and spat it out, "but last night I was sitting in the Courtyard, watching San Daye and Niuniu recite pinyin, Xiao Pang drawing lines with a ruler, Yushui holding a notice board standing under the sun… I kept thinking, us, screwing bolts and moving iron blocks every day, what's it all for?"

He Standing Up, patted the dust off his pants: "It's not about earning a few more coins, it's about being able to make something others can't."

Zhao Jianguo said nothing, just nodded.

The two walked side by side toward the workshop; on the way they met the workshop director coming out of the office, holding a thermos cup. Seeing Jia Dongxu empty‑handed, he immediately frowned: "Dong Xu! Did you submit the application? HR needs to compile it this afternoon!"

Jia Dongxu stopped, pulled a red‑leather notebook from his pocket, and handed it over with both hands: "Director, I'm not getting promoted. This is my Auditing Request certificate for the university Mechanical Lesson Department, I'll be attending classes at night from now on."

The workshop director was stunned, his hand frozen in midair, the thermos lid went "pop" onto the floor and rolled twice.

"What did you say? Not going to be evaluated as a Fifth-Class Worker, but going to audit?" his voice rose sharply, "Don't be foolish! That Auditing Request isn't an official qualification, the factory won't recognize it!"

"I only need to recognize it myself," Jia Dongxu said evenly, "I don't care whether the factory recognizes it now; I care whether I can turn the ideas in my head into real stuff."

A few workers nearby heard the commotion and leaned in. Someone whispered, "Has this Jia worker been stimulated by something?" "Heard there was a 'College Entrance Exam Museum' in the Siheyuan last night, maybe he got infected?"

The workshop director turned green with anger, pointing toward the warehouse: "Then don't use the factory's tools anymore! The welding machine, the lathe—aren't they state property? If you want to play with your little invention, go home and play!"

"I'm not planning to use the factory's," Jia Dongxu turned and headed for the warehouse back door, "I built a table myself, over in that corner."

The crowd followed and looked, all of them were stunned.

It turned out that the innermost part of the warehouse where scrap was piled had been cleared, leaving a vacant spot. A few old planks were assembled into a workbench, on which lay Gear Sets, springs, iron tubes, and a small motor‑modified contraption that looked odd, as if someone had welded a Dustpan and a sieve together.

"This is my automatic grain sorting machine," Jia Dongxu flipped the switch, the motor buzzed, corn kernels cascaded down the funnel, passing through three layers of sieves with different apertures; the coarse fell to one side, the fine to the other, and the broken kernels were flung into the outer trough.

The workers gathered around, craning their necks to watch.

"It really can sort!"

"If we took this to the grain station, how much labor would we save?"

"The key is it doesn't need electricity; you just step on a pedal to turn the wheel!"

The workshop director, who had been scowling, involuntarily stepped forward two paces, stared at the machine for a long time, then managed to sputter, "…Where did you learn this set?"

"Read about it in books, then tinkered myself," Jia Dongxu turned off the machine, "I want to write a proposal, submit it to the factory department, see if it can be rolled out to the suburban commune."

"Don't think that far ahead yet," Zhao Jianguo suddenly spoke, "When it was running just now, the third sieve got stuck—maybe the Gear Set was under too much load?"

Jia Dongxu nodded: "Right, tried three times, each time it jammed around ten minutes. I swapped two sets of parts, still couldn't hold up."

Zhao Jianguo bent down, picked up the broken Gear Set, examined it; the fracture surface was black, with fine cracks along the edge. "The material's poor, too brittle. You used ordinary cast iron?"

"Picked it from the scrap pile," Jia Dongxu gave a wry smile, "Good steel is in finished parts, we can't get it."

Zhao Jianguo touched his trouser pocket; the sign‑in card vibrated lightly, and a line popped up on the Screen: 【Intermediate Materials Science Skill Pack Activated】.

He said nothing, just crouched, used a Wrench to pry out another intact Gear Set, turned it over and over for a while, then said, "Try adding manganese, adjust the ratio to 1.5%. Add a bit of chromium to boost wear resistance. If you can't find a ready‑made alloy, melt down old bearing steel and recast it."

Jia Dongxu's eyes lit up: "I hadn't thought of that method."

"What you lack isn't brainpower," Zhao Jianguo stood, "It's knowing which materials can do what."

That afternoon, Jia Dongxu ran to several Scrap Yards, scavenged a heap of old bearings and discarded gearbox housings. The two, taking advantage of the empty shift, secretly set up a small furnace in the warehouse corner, melted metal with charcoal fire, and poured it into a self‑made mold.

Early the next morning, the new Gear Set emerged from the furnace.

Installed and tested, the machine ran continuously for half an hour without jamming; the separation precision was much higher than before. A few workers deliberately brought a bowl of mixed grain to test, and even the sand mixed in the millet was sifted out.

"Incredible!"

"If this can be mass‑produced, the rural brigade will be fighting over it!"

"Zhao Jianguo knows this? How does he know everything?"

Zhao Jianguo ignored the chatter, watching Jia Dongxu squat on the ground recording data, his notebook filled with sketches, a cup of Cool Tea untouched.

The workshop director returned, this time not shouting, but silently standing at the doorway for a while, then before leaving tossed a line, "…That corner, you can keep using it. Just don't affect normal production."

Jia Dongxu lifted his head, gave no reply, but the corner of his mouth moved.

At lunch, Zhao Jianguo brought back two steamed buns, handed one to Jia Dongxu. The two sat on the warehouse steps gnawing, the overhead fluorescent light flickering.

"Do you think we can make something bigger later?" Jia Dongxu suddenly asked.

"Of course," Zhao Jianguo swallowed the last bite, "As long as you want to make it."

"Then my next goal is to make an automatic flour‑grinder," he bit a bun, "for Niuniu's brigade."

Zhao Jianguo laughed: "Fine, when the time comes I'll calculate the transmission ratio for you."

At three p. m., the machine started up again.

This time, the sieve ran steadily, grains fell like rain, perfectly uniform. Jia Dongxu picked up a pencil and wrote a small line on the back of the drawing: **First machine for Niuniu**.

Zhao Jianguo stood at the doorway, watching the sunset glint on the turning Gear Set, flashing shimmering light. He reached to touch the sign‑in card; the Screen just displayed a new prompt.

His finger hadn't had time to click—

Jia Dongxu suddenly stood, lunged toward the machine, and yanked out the rotating transmission rod.