Chapter 95: Industrial Innovation, Opportunities and Challenges

It was just dawn, the workshop lights were still on, and Zhao Jianguo was squatting by the bench vise, sketching with a pencil on a draft sheet. The name of the newcomer circled last night was still on the notebook, the red ink not fully dry; he stared at it for a while, closed the notebook, and casually slipped the unopened notice from the Machinery Bureau into the bottom of the drawer.

The door opened, bringing in a gust of cool air.

Jia Dongxu came in carrying a stack of old manuals, his hair a bit disheveled as if he'd rushed along the road. "The factory broadcast," he said while brushing dust off his shoulder, "the 'Technology Innovation Competition' officially starts today, and registration ends at three p. m."

Zhao Jianguo nodded, rose, and fetched from the cabinet a tightly wrapped kraft‑paper notebook whose cover bore the brush‑written words "Clamp Worker Notes," its corners worn to a pale hue as if passed down through generations.

He placed the notebook on the table: "We'll sign up."

Sha Zhu happened to come in carrying an enamel jar, and on hearing that almost choked out, "Huh? Really signing up? This is a plant‑wide contest, several workshops have formed teams, and senior masters are leading them!"

"That's why we sign up," Zhao Jianguo opened the notebook, its pages dense with hand‑drawn diagrams and notes. "I've been pondering a method these past days—old machine‑tool control systems are too bulky; we won't replace the whole machine, just modify the core circuit and add quick‑release brackets. It saves time and preserves the original equipment's foundation."

He Yushui leaned over to glance at the drawing, brow slightly furrowed: "The idea's good, but what about materials? The last time we made a Wrench we only had two bearings left; for CNC work you need seven or eight just to get started."

Yanbugui shuffled in, leaning on his cane, stood at the doorway listening for a while before speaking: "If you're going to fool people, don't hang that sign." He pointed outward, "That 'Technology Innovation Test Point' outside isn't for you to brag about."

Zhao Jianguo gave no rebuttal, turned, pulled a metal plate from under the tool rack—welded with several movable slots—then retrieved a set of small Gear Sets from a drawer and snapped them on; a gentle twist of the handle made the whole structure click into place.

"This is the model I made last night," he said. "No new castings needed; it's all assembled from leftover stock scraps. Swapping a set of bearings used to require removing six screws and loosening three retaining rings; now it's done in two steps."

Sha Zhu reached out, nudged the mechanism, and his eyes lit up: "It really works!"

Jia Dongxu squatted down to examine the transmission structure closely, his fingers tracing a circle along the slide rail, then nodded: "If we can transfer this logic onto a CNC machine, it would indeed save a lot of effort. The question is, will the factory let us tinker with that machine?"

"Whether they agree is one thing; having the capability is another," Zhao Jianguo spread the drawings flat. "I plan to form a task force to tackle this. Are you willing to work together?"

The room fell silent for two seconds.

Sha Zhu shoved the enamel jar onto the table: "If I back down, who in the Kitchen will stew meat to replenish your strength? Count me in; logistics is on me!"

He Yushui pulled out a small notebook she always carried: "I'll handle the data logs—how much material is used each day, what stage we're at—nothing omitted."

Jia Dongxu paused thoughtfully: "I can lend a hand with the control system, but we need to borrow a few original factory schematics first."

Zhao Jianguo smiled: "I prepared that for you already." He fished a cooperation intent letter stamped with the workshop seal from his coat, "I had Master Dong Xu sign it, granting us access to the basic data."

Yanbugui let out a cold snort: "Having data alone isn't enough. If you actually start work, I'll have to inspect every process; substandard work, when problems arise, no one can cover it."

"We precisely need someone like you," Zhao Jianguo said earnestly, looking at him. "Quality supervision, you're indispensable."

The old man gave no reply, merely leaned his cane against the corner, as if to mark his presence.

At noon that day, another circle of people gathered at the workshop entrance.

A clerk from the Street Office arrived, holding a registration form, his tone not relaxed: "I heard you're entering the factory's technology competition? Some have reported that you're privately modifying state‑owned equipment, which is a different matter."

Zhao Jianguo remained unflustered, pulling a Photocopy of the 'Competition Regulations' from a folder and flipping to page three: "See here, it states 'Collectives or individuals may participate as teams,' with no restriction on unit or title."

The clerk scanned the page, then asked, "What about the machine tool? Who authorized you to touch it?"

"We haven't moved it yet," Zhao Jianguo handed over another sheet. "This is a summary of our renovation proposal, including safety plans, timeline milestones, and technical difficulty forecasts. Once the preliminary review passes, everything proceeds by procedure."

He Yushui added from beside, "All material sources are recorded; even a single screw can be accounted for."

The clerk glanced, his expression softened: "Alright, as long as it's compliant, the Street Office won't block innovation. Just a reminder—don't cause trouble for yourselves."

As soon as the person left, Sha Zhu grinned: "Hey, that was pretty intimidating, as if we were really doing something illegal."

Zhao Jianguo didn't smile, turned and entered the room, picking up a brush to add at the end of the plan on the bulletin board: "Results belong to the collective; I'll bear any failure."

The onlookers murmured among themselves.

"Zhao Jianguo's words are sincere."

"Indeed, if anything goes wrong he'll shoulder it alone, and if we win the prize we'll share it."

"These days, finding someone to lead like that isn't easy."

Before evening, the news spread throughout the Siheyuan.

Some admired, others shook their heads. Yet more youngsters began inquiring how to sign up for the task force.

After dinner, Zhao Jianguo had just sat down to eat when Sha Zhu burst in, breathless: "It's ruined! Someone at the factory says our 'portable Wrench' is actually a modified import, and this competition entry probably relies on connections and a backdoor!"

Zhao Jianguo paused his chopsticks, set them down: "Let them talk."

"Aren't you anxious?" Sha Zhu glared.

"The more urgent, the messier," he wiped his mouth, "We'll do our part; let them chatter as they wish. Once the machine tool is truly modified, the noise will naturally be reduced."

He Yushui now entered carrying a stack of old maintenance sheets: "I just went through three years of maintenance logs; that CNC bed breaks twice a month on average, and each repair stalls production for at least eight hours. If we can truly stabilize it, the workshop director will be the first to back us."

"Then we'll target that pain point," Zhao Jianguo stood, spreading the drawings again. "Starting tomorrow, three lines advance simultaneously—Jia Dongxu will lead a team to clarify the control circuit and identify the most failure‑prone nodes; He Yushui will organize historical data and mark high‑frequency failure components; Uncle Yan, you will set the acceptance standards, and whoever signs off on each stage assumes responsibility."

He then turned to Sha Zhu: "You'll handle procurement; list any missing parts, buy what's available, and find ways to replace what can't be sourced."

Sha Zhu scratched his head: "But the budget…"

"Let's not spend big money yet," Zhao Jianguo said, pulling a small cloth bag from the drawer and pouring out a few dozen coins. "This is my technical stipend from the past six months; I'll front it. Once the project is approved, we'll apply for dedicated funding."

"You're pushing too hard," Sha Zhu muttered.

"It's not about pushing," Zhao Jianguo said, dividing the money into several portions and placing them into envelopes, "It's that we believe in this ourselves, so others will believe too."

As night deepened, the workshop lights lit up once more.

Zhao Jianguo sat on a wooden horse stand, the 'Clamp Worker Notes' spread before him, leafing through page by page while comparing with the Gear Set diagram in his hand. Halfway through a drawing he realized the transmission ratio was miscalculated; his pen halted, he frowned and recomputed.

Footsteps sounded from outside the door.

Jia Dongxu pushed the door open, cradling a few yellowed machine‑tool manuals in his arms, a speck of coal ash on his shoulder.

"After searching for ages, I finally found them in the archives," he said, placing the books on the table and breathing out, "There are Photocopies of the maintenance logs from these years; we'll look at them together in a moment."

Zhao Jianguo looked up, pointing at the drawing: "These parameters are off; the original ratio can't drive the new bracket, we need to readjust."

Jia Dongxu leaned over, glanced, then picked up a pen and began calculating.

The two pressed their heads together, pens scratching on the paper.

On the wall, the plaque reading 'Siheyuan Technology Innovation Test Point' glowed under the light; its paint was peeling slightly, yet the characters remained clear.

Zhao Jianguo suddenly halted his pen: "Tell me, if we ultimately don't succeed, will others say we were just looking for glory?"

Jia Dongxu gave him a look: "Then why are you doing it?"

"Because it should be done," he said, lowering his head to continue revising the drawing. "If no one changes it, it will keep breaking down."

A gust of wind blew outside; the door wasn't shut tightly, producing a slight rattling.

Zhao Jianguo lifted his head: "Dong Xu, this part of the transmission shaft... needs to be checked again."