The afterglow of the setting sun, like melted gold, spilled over the factory area of ​​Hongxing Factory. The tall chimneys, no longer belching smoke, stood there quietly like silent giants; rows of factory buildings were bathed in warm light, the reflective tiles dazzling the eyes; people pushing their bicycles home from work made a clanging and jingling sound, their laughter and chatter audible from afar, full of life.

Liu Li stood alone at the window of the technical department, looking down at everything.

The office was empty; it was so quiet she could hear her own breathing. She stroked the scraper her master had given her; the hardwood handle was cool and solid, and holding it felt like touching the past.

Her eyes first fell on the machining workshop—the row of dusty factory buildings seemed transparent to her, and she could see the lathes, planers, and milling machines inside… She could almost hear the humming of the machines in her ears. Less than a year ago, she was a flustered high school student who had just been reborn, moving into an eight-person dormitory with a small suitcase, with no idea what the future held.

She seemed to see herself again: the first time she ground a drill bit, she didn't dare to stop even when her hands were blistered, with the master watching her closely, his eyes so intense they could make her sweat; the first time she went on a lathe, her hands trembled as she gripped the crank handle, afraid of damaging the parts; many nights, she was the only one left in the workshop, repeatedly filing the parts, not even bothering to wipe the metal shavings that splashed onto her hands, just wanting to improve the precision by even a fraction.

She also recalled those difficult times: gossip about Sun Peng behind her back, with some people thinking she couldn't do technical work just because she was a woman; no one talked to her at first, and she had to find a corner to eat in. But it was also here that she felt a sense of security when she received her first 18 yuan salary; Zhang Shulan dragged her to the canteen to grab braised pork, saying, "With me here, no one will dare to bully you"; the chef gave her his most treasured spatula, saying, "Don't forget your roots"—these things seemed etched in her heart.

During the skills competition, she filed the dovetail grooves without trembling, and she was so excited when she won two awards; when Sun Peng broke the lathe, she stepped forward to find spare parts and finally repaired the machine; and then there was that imported grinding machine, where she stayed up all night with Engineer Fu to check the blueprints, adjusting the clearance under pressure, and finally heard the machine running smoothly... These things strung together are her days in the workshop. It was tough, but every step she took was solid.

From an apprentice who almost held a wrench upside down to a first-class worker capable of producing machines with a tolerance of 0.01 millimeters; from only being able to offer minor suggestions to leading innovations; from being a "little girl" protected by her master to being called "Master Liu"—the past six months have been like being tempered in fire. The oil, sweat, and iron filings in the workshop have worn away her superficiality, honed her steadiness, and taught her what it means to "work diligently and conscientiously." Her master's words, "Never forget your roots no matter where you go," are etched into her heart along with this shovel.

My eyes slowly moved to the technical department office building at my feet—it was bright and clean, unlike the greasy atmosphere of the workshop, where the air was thick with the smell of ink and old paper, and you had to speak softly. Here, you weren't tested on your strength, but on your ability to read blueprints, calculate data, and understand the process.

She still remembers the awkwardness she felt when she first arrived: the two senior technicians wouldn't even glance at her, Sister Wu just smiled, and Deputy Section Chief Li tested her with blueprints, ostensibly asking for suggestions, but really just to see if she was up to the task. She knew that the new challenges were just beginning—here, it wasn't enough to just be able to do the work; he also had to be able to think, draw, and deal with people. He had to combine the experience from the workshop with the principles from books to gain a foothold.

I also thought of Engineer Fu—when I first arrived, he handed me his notes, saying, "This is easier to understand than reading a book," and his smile was so genuine; when Deputy Section Chief Li tested me, he didn't say anything, but I could see the support in his eyes. When the two of them discussed technology, they didn't need many explanations; a single glance was enough for them to understand each other. This tacit understanding was quite heartwarming in an unfamiliar place.

But Liu Li also knew that the road ahead would not be easy. The technical department was not a place without ulterior motives; some people valued seniority over ability, and some felt that she was "not qualified" to come from the workshop. It was 1973 now, and I knew more about what was going on outside than anyone else. The factory seemed busy now, but the old methods would eventually become inadequate, and who knew what storms might come in the future.

As the sun slowly sank behind the distant trees, the last rays of light cast a long shadow of Liu Li. The panic she had shown when she first arrived was gone from her face; her eyes shone brightly—filled with longing for the workshop and confidence in the future.

She's no longer the apprentice who clung to every opportunity. The hardships she endured in the workshop and the lessons she learned from her master paid off. Now, she's like steel that's been refined—not brittle, but strong, and she dares to charge forward no matter how difficult the task.

She turned around, glanced at the blueprints and books on the table, and finally looked at the set of spades, feeling quite at ease.