The afternoon sun slanted into the fitter's competition arena, its rays streaming through the high windows and casting long, bright spots on the floor. There was none of the morning's deafening roar of lathes; instead, the air was filled with the scraping of files against metal, occasionally punctuated by the creaking of needles. Fine iron filings mingled with the sweat on the competitors' foreheads, creating a tense atmosphere.

Liu Li stood in front of her workbench, clutching a freshly sharpened fine-toothed file—fitting was her specialty, and this was what she had been practicing with Master Wang these past few days. She should have been confident, but looking at the complex punches and dies, the angled surfaces, the holes to drill, and the threads to tap on the blueprint, she still dared not slack off. As soon as the competition began, she immediately got into the zone: she stared at the blueprint for half a minute, mentally reviewing the allowances and reference points, then used a scriber to draw lines on the blank, the lines as fine as hair, perfectly straight.

During the rough finishing, she used a medium-toothed file to push hard, metal shavings falling down in a flurry. Her back was quickly soaked with sweat, her work clothes clinging to her body, and stray hairs sticking to her forehead. She didn't have time to wipe them away; her eyes were fixed on the lines on the rough blank, gradually working her way up to the shape. After the rough finishing was complete, she switched to a fine-toothed file to refine the crucial bevel, when suddenly, an unexpected event occurred—

As she was applying even pressure to the file, she suddenly felt something was wrong: it wasn't that the file was slippery, nor that the metal was hard, but that the base of the bench vise had wobbled slightly! The wobbling was so small that it was almost imperceptible unless you looked closely, but Liu Li dealt with bench vises every day and had developed a natural instinct for them—this thing was the "hand" of a fitter, and if you loosened your grip, the dimensions you were working on would definitely be off track, especially in the finishing stage, where even a slight deviation would ruin everything!

Her heart leaped into her throat, and the sweat on her back instantly turned cold. A thought raced through her mind: if she kept filing, the bevel would definitely be crooked, and all her previous work would be wasted; but if she stopped, the competition time was already tight, what if she went over the time limit?

"Don't panic, stay calm." Master Wang's words, which he had taught her in the workshop, suddenly came to mind, along with Fu Jingchen's calm demeanor when analyzing problems. She took a deep breath, and without hesitation, gently placed the file on the table, raised her hand high, and shouted to the referee patrolling nearby, "Reporting to the referee! My bench vise is loose. I'd like to ask you to pause the timer so I can tighten it!"

Her voice wasn't loud, but it was clearly audible in the quiet arena. Several competitors who were engrossed in their work stopped and looked up at her in astonishment—every second counted in the competition, and to call a halt on her own initiative was incredibly bold!

The referee, an elderly technician with gray hair, strode over, bent down, shook the base of the bench vise with his hand, and then tightened the fixing handle. He frowned slightly and said, "It's definitely loose. Okay, stop the timer. Hurry up and fix it, don't take too long!" His words were serious, but his eyes held a hint of admiration—this girl was steady enough not to mess around when faced with a problem but to dare to speak up.

The timekeeper pressed pause, and Liu Li grabbed the wrench that came with the bench vise, squatted down, and started looking for the bolt. Sure enough, one of the bolts connecting the base to the workbench was loose. She pressed the wrench down hard, tightening it round and round, and then checked the other bolts one by one to make sure they weren't loose. Still not satisfied, she reached out and pushed the movable jaws of the bench vise, wiggling it left and right. Feeling that it wasn't moving at all, she straightened up: "Referee, it's fixed. We can resume the timer."

It took less than two minutes in total; the movements were incredibly fast and efficient. The referee checked it again and nodded, instructing the timer to continue calculating the time.

After all that fuss, Liu Li became even more composed—the initial panic had subsided, replaced by pure focus. She re-clamped the workpiece, picked up the fine-toothed file, and first ran her fingers over the bevel to ensure the vise was secure before beginning to file. This time, the force was more even, and the rhythm more steady. Every few strokes, she checked the file with a ruler to see if it was crooked, then used a dial indicator to measure the dimensions, meticulously correcting it bit by bit.

As the punch and die slowly took shape and finally came together, Liu Li held her breath and gently pushed the punch into the die—effortlessly, the punch "sucked" the die and slid in perfectly, fitting seamlessly. She tested it with a feeler gauge; the gap was so small it was almost invisible. Next, she drilled and tapped. The drill bit went straight down, without any deviation. While tapping, she felt the resistance of the tap; the force was just right, and the threads were clear and without any stripping.

After assembling all the parts, Liu Li gently pushed the moving parts; they moved smoothly without any jamming, perfectly matching the blueprint requirements. She placed the assembled parts on the table and took a step back just as the whistle blew to signal the end of the competition.

She stood there, catching her breath, looking at the work in her hands—the metal surfaces were smooth, the parts fit together perfectly, and she felt reassured. The moment the vise loosened hadn't broken her; instead, it had made her even clearer about what she needed to do.

The referee came over to inspect, measuring the gap with a feeler gauge, checking the tolerance with a lever indicator, and even manually pushing the moving parts. Finally, the old technician wrote a few lines on the record sheet, and when he looked up at Liu Li, the admiration in his eyes was undisguised. Liu Li packed up her files and measuring tools, her earlier nervousness gone, and waited for the final result—no matter what, she had done everything she could.