At six in the morning, before all the workshop lights were on, Chen Hao was already squatting in front of the mixing tank, adding mud shovel by shovel. He moved quickly, but his eyes were a little unfocused, as if he was so sleepy he could barely keep them open, yet he was forcing himself to stay awake.
"This is the fourth batch," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. "This mud is even stickier than yesterday. Did you slack off and not sift it?"
Nana stood beside the terminal, retrieving data from the kiln's thermocouples. "Ambient humidity increased by 5.3%, and increased viscosity is a normal reaction," she said without looking up. "I suggest reducing the amount of water added by 0.2 liters."
"How do you know everything?" Chen Hao rolled his eyes, but still did as he was told. After kneading the last lump of clay, he shook his aching wrists and placed the twenty rough blanks one by one on the drying rack. "Can we fire them all up in the kiln at noon? I don't want to wait until tomorrow."
“The current air-drying cycle needs to be extended by 1.8 hours.” Nana glanced at the anemometer at the vent. “Otherwise, the moisture will be released too quickly after entering the kiln, and the yield is expected to drop to 41%.”
"Oh, you actually figured that out?" Chen Hao scoffed, but still got up and moved the drying rack half a meter toward the vent. He then used his entrenching tool to push himself up. "Fine, fine, I'll listen to you. Slow is fine, I'm not in a hurry to save the universe."
Nana didn't respond, but silently noted down the numbers and placement of the batch of blanks.
By evening, the first batch of ten pieces had finally been put into the kiln. Chen Hao squatted at the kiln entrance, checking the spacing between each piece, muttering, "Three on the left, four on the right, leave gaps in front and back... This is even more meticulous than arranging troops in battle."
“The ventilation channels are clear,” Nana confirmed. “The main heating system has passed its self-test and can be ignited.”
"I've been waiting for this moment for so long!" Chen Hao slapped his knee, jumped up, and pressed the start button.
The furnace roared to life, and the outer wall of the kiln slowly heated up. On the monitoring screen, the temperature curve began to climb, initially remaining stable, but soon the response of the main heating zone became noticeably lagging.
“Something’s not right.” Nana stared at the data stream. “The temperature gradient deviates from the preset value by 7.2%, and the rear seat temperature is too low.”
"Wasn't it just calibrated?" Chen Hao leaned closer to look. "Has this furnace also learned to slack off?"
"Simultaneous firing of multiple batches caused the power load to exceed the limit." Nana quickly pulled up the historical curves for comparison. "The original program did not take into account the thermal inertia of large capacity, and the heating module could not respond synchronously."
"Then what should we do? Take it apart in half?"
“Unnecessary.” She swiped her finger across the screen a few times. “Change to zoned staggered heating, activating the front section first, the middle section eight minutes later, and the rear section six minutes later. At the same time, install a heat insulation layer around the kiln to reduce heat loss.”
"Sounds like putting the furnace on a shift system." Chen Hao grinned. "Okay, whatever you say."
The two immediately got to work. Chen Hao moved over some discarded refractory bricks and used them to build a makeshift baffle on the outside of the kiln, then stuffed in a layer of mineral wool felt. Nana, on the other hand, reset the program and started the test.
The first round of temperature increase failed, and the temperature in the back row is still too low.
The second round was slightly better, but the front row heated up too quickly, posing a slight risk of cracking.
"Let's do it again," Nana said.
In the third round, at 2:17 AM, the temperature curve finally stabilized. The temperature difference at the monitoring points was controlled within ±3°C.
"It's done." Chen Hao breathed a sigh of relief and slumped into his chair. "This stove is finally behaving itself."
"Define this parameter as 't-S01'." Nana updated the file simultaneously, "and marked it as 'Standard Expansion First Test Procedure'."
"Sounds like a high-tech code name." Chen Hao laughed. "Are we upgrading from a small workshop to an assembly line?"
“We haven’t reached the threshold for automated production yet,” Nana said, “but it is already replicable.”
"Don't dampen my spirits, let me be happy for a while." He sat up straight. "When are the remaining ten coming in? Let's strike while the iron is hot."
“I suggest splitting it into two batches.” Nana pulled up the equipment load simulation diagram. “The current heating system has reached its safe limit for continuous operation. If it is forced to operate at full load, the probability of failure will increase to 38%.”
“It’s the data again.” Chen Hao frowned. “But it’s all the same clay, the same dough, so why can’t we bake them together?”
“Consistent materials do not necessarily mean consistent thermal environment.” She pointed to the screen. “The airflow distribution inside the kiln is affected by the load, and cold zones are easily formed in the rear. Firing in batches can verify stability and reduce overall risk.”
Chen Hao was silent for a few seconds, then scratched his head. "You're right... I'm just afraid that if we drag this out too long, the mud might not be good again someday."
“The composition of samples t-04 to t-06 is stable,” Nana said. “There are no signs of short-term degradation.”
"Alright then." He sighed. "Burn ten for now, and we'll deal with the remaining ten tomorrow morning."
When the second batch was put into the kiln, Chen Hao was exceptionally careful. He personally adjusted the position of each blank, repeatedly checked that the ventilation channels were unobstructed, and even measured the spacing with a ruler.
“You’re more nervous than if you were a first-time dad,” Nana said.
“Of course.” He chuckled. “This is our first ‘mass production line’.”
During the firing process, Nana monitored the entire process, recording data every half hour. Chen Hao sat beside her, unusually quiet, holding a piece of spare clay in his hand, unconsciously rolling it into a small ball, then flattening it, and then rolling it into a round shape again.
Time passed little by little.
At dawn, the cooling process ended.
Nana put on her gloves and slowly opened the kiln door. Steam billowed out, carrying the familiar aroma of roasted meat.
Chen Hao held his breath and leaned forward.
The ten pottery jars are neatly arranged, with uniform bodies and a deep, stable color. The only piece with a slight color difference has a bluish tinge on the surface, which does not affect the structure.
"All qualified?" His voice trembled slightly.
"Nine items fully meet the standards, one has a minor cosmetic flaw but no functional impairment." Nana tapped the can wall lightly, and a series of crisp "ding" sounds rang out. "The pressure resistance test is expected to pass."
Chen Hao grinned, plopped down on the floor, and looked up at the ceiling. "Hey... I'm actually pretty good."
“The data supports the conclusion.” Nana began to archive the firing parameters for this firing. “It is recommended to solidify the ‘t-S01’ process as a benchmark for subsequent production.”
"Let's stick it on the wall," Chen Hao said, getting up. "Let's keep an eye on this stove every day, so it won't be able to slack off."
Nana printed out the flowchart and posted it next to the workbench. Chen Hao took the pen and wrote a line of words in a crooked hand in the blank space below: "Don't rush, slow and steady wins the race."
"That statement is logically contradictory," Nana said.
“But it works.” He patted her shoulder. “I used to always try to do things in one step, and all I got were junk. Now I know that slowing down is the way to go further.”
Nana didn't respond, but instead added a note to the terminal: "User experience summary - 'Don't rush, slow and steady wins the race,' to be included in the production culture field."
When the work was finished, Chen Hao suggested that the third batch of blanks be started immediately.
"Strike while the iron is hot and make the remaining ten as well." He walked towards the mixing tank and reached out to turn on the motor.
"The motor is overheating and needs to shut down." Nana stopped him. "After running continuously for three hours, the temperature reaches the critical value and needs to cool down naturally for two hours."
"Huh?" Chen Hao's eyes widened. "Can't you even rest for half an hour?"
“Insufficient cooling will accelerate the aging of the insulation layer.” Nana pulled up the test report. “The risk is irreversible.”
"I should have gotten a spare electrode." He plopped down and fanned himself with an entrenching tool. "It's exhausting, and we still have to wait."
“It has been included in the equipment redundancy assessment list,” Nana said. “Priority level C.”
"What does C-level mean? Does it mean you have to be reborn in your next life?"
"This means it can be handled within the next maintenance cycle."
"Oh, so that means waiting to die." He rolled his eyes, leaned back against the wall, and said, "Fine, I'll wait then. I should rest for a bit anyway."
The two fell silent.
Nana began reviewing the day's events, generating simple charts and marking key points and warning thresholds. Chen Hao, with his eyes closed, hummed an off-key song, a "Laughing Dust" ceramic jar beside him.
After a while, he suddenly opened his eyes, picked up the jar, and blew a breath into it.
A deep hum echoed through the workshop, like some kind of ancient horn.
Nana glanced at him.
"What?" He put down the jar, blinked, "Not impressive enough? Want to do it again?"
“The audio frequency is 137 Hz,” she said. “It’s not within the commonly used communication band.”
“I’m not trying to communicate,” he laughed. “I’m just reminding this place—we’re still working.”
Nana didn't say anything, but simply finished archiving the last set of data, and a soft terminal notification sounded.
Chen Hao stood up, walked to the corkboard, looked at the paper that read "Don't rush, slow and steady wins the race," and then looked up at the newly posted flowchart.
He picked up his pen, intending to write something, but then put it down again.
Finally, he turned and walked towards the mixing tank, reaching out to touch the motor casing.
A slight burning sensation came from my fingertips.
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