Life in the technical department moved slowly. The sycamore leaves outside the window turned yellow day by day, and Liu Li buried herself in old blueprints every day. The pencil tip scratched on the paper, every line was drawn straight, and the dimensions were marked neatly, as if they had been printed. She was not only doing the work, but also trying to use this meticulous work to understand the rules of the technical department and calm her mind.

But she soon discovered that the difficulty of the technical department was not just the tedium of copying blueprints, but the unspeakable barrier between people, like the fog of late autumn, chilly and impossible to dissipate.

This estrangement can be seen in the little things of daily life.

She arrived early in the morning, and just like in the workshop, she casually picked up an empty thermos to fetch water and make tea for everyone. Just as she reached the door, Deputy Section Chief Li came in and quickly called out, "Hey, Xiao Liu, put it down! Why do you need to do this kind of work? Everyone in our section does their own thing, and if all else fails, there are always handymen. You're a technician; you need to focus on the important things."

The words were polite, but the distance in her tone was unmistakable—as if drawing a line, reminding her "you're different from those who do odd jobs," and also reminding others "she comes from the workshop, she's different from us." Liu Li silently put the thermos back and nodded: "Understood, Section Chief Li."

The office gets a bit livelier during lunch break, with a few male technicians gathered around, chatting about current events over tea, or just discussing technical matters. They mostly talk about "stress analysis" and "modal calculations," occasionally throwing in a couple of English terms. She tried to join in twice, but was afraid that as a high school student, she might say something inappropriate for her position. When she shared her practical experience in the workshop, like, "You have to work slowly with this material, it sticks to the tool," the air would immediately turn cold.

Engineer Chen pushed up his glasses, gave an "hmm," and then fell silent, turning to chat with Technician Zhao about "theoretical cutting parameters." Technician Zhao, a college graduate, always looked at her with a hint of disdain. Once, he deliberately asked, "Liu Li, you often machine 45# steel in the workshop. Do you know the actual resistance fluctuation range during cutting?"

Liu Li recited the data she had recorded, and Technician Zhao curled his lip: "Oh, it's quite different from the theoretical value in the book. The data from the lab is more accurate, isn't it?" After saying that, he turned to talk to someone else, leaving her standing there.

Only Fu Jingchen could save the day, always chiming in with, "The actual working conditions in the workshop are complex. What Liu Li described is a common situation. Theory needs to be combined with on-site adjustments." But Fu Jingchen couldn't be there every time.

What's even more upsetting is the gossip behind her back. Once, when she went to the archives to check standards, she overheard two people from another department chatting in the corner of the corridor: "Is that the woman who was transferred from the workshop? I heard she's pretty good at repairing grinding machines?" "Good as she may be, she's from a worker background, so her foundation in drawing and calculating data is definitely lacking. Didn't you see that Section Chief Zhou made her copy old drawings..." "She's probably just lucky, the factory is making her a role model, the technical department isn't just about knowing how to tighten a wrench."

Those words felt like tiny needles pricking her. Liu Li gripped the folder in her hand tightly, didn't turn around, and walked straight past.

Even Sister Wu in the department was polite to her on the surface, but her eyes were full of suspicion. Sometimes she would ask her, "Is working in the workshop tiring?" Her words implied, "Can you adapt to the office?" as if she was waiting for her to make a mistake.

Deputy Section Chief Li made his "estrangement" blatant. The tasks he assigned her were always copying drawings and organizing old documents; even if she did a good job, he'd only say "not bad." But if Fu Jingchen revised a new tooling drawing, he'd spend ages praising Fu's solid theoretical foundation. Once, Liu Li showed him a copied drawing, and he flipped through it, pointing to a label: "Liu, your labeling method... isn't exactly wrong, but our section is used to using another method, it's easier. You're new here, so look at the old drawings more often and follow the conventions."

"Our department" and "usual practice"—these words struck Liu Li like a hammer, making her heart sink.

Lying in her dormitory bed at night, Liu Li would feel aggrieved: She had worked her way up from the factory through her own abilities, without stealing or robbing, so why was she treated as inferior here? Was it because she hadn't gone to university? Had she never worked in an office?

But then she remembered how her master had handed her the shovel, saying in a gruff voice, "Don't forget your roots." The "roots" her master spoke of weren't just about the work itself, but also about the ability to handle things and remain calm.

“The more they act like this, the less I can afford to be impatient,” Liu Li whispered to the ceiling. “Talking is useless; I have to use real skills to make them submit.”

She bottled up all her grievances, meticulously copying diagrams and poring over books whenever she had free time. Fu Jingchen borrowed her notes until the edges were worn out, and she borrowed old technical books and industry magazines gathering dust in the archives to read one by one. When she encountered something she didn't understand, she would either draw sketches to figure it out herself or ask Fu Jingchen for help when he wasn't busy.

She stopped joining those theoretical circles and focused on making up for her weaknesses—she knew that coming from the workshop was not a disadvantage, but an advantage: she understood how the machines worked and how the parts were processed, things that many people in the department had never done. She wanted to combine this experience with the theories in books to develop her own skills.

The quiet of the technical department, which she used to find oppressive, has now become her haven. Those questioning glances and distant words can no longer disturb her peace of mind. She knows that breaking down this barrier requires waiting for an opportunity, and that she must earn it step by step through her own hard work.

The competition within the technical department, though silent, was even more challenging than repairing machines in the workshop. Liu Li remained calm, honing her skills slowly, like sharpening a lathe tool in a workshop, waiting for the day she could produce something truly useful.