PDLP Chapter 87 Simulation Match
Chapter 87 Simulation Match
When Lao Fang brought out the old water pump, there weren't many people in the yard yet.
He carried the water pump out from the innermost shelf of the old parts warehouse and placed it on the stone floor at the workshop entrance.
Most of the green paint on the water pump casing had peeled off, and the exposed sheet metal was covered with a layer of yellow rust. One bolt on the impeller end cover was missing, and a broken piece of rubber tubing was still hanging on the flange of the inlet.
He put down the water pump, straightened up, and the ash from the cigarette he was holding fell onto his shirt. He brushed it off with the back of his hand.
"This is the one that was scrapped in Hongjia Island last year." He took the cigarette out of his mouth, looked at the water pump, and then at Lin Xiu'e who had just come out of the kitchen. "It's been sitting there for more than half a year without anyone touching it. We're using it to simulate something today."
Lin Xiu'e carried a basin of freshly mixed tung oil putty, placed it on the windowsill alongside three other basins, and covered it with a damp cloth.
She walked over to the water pump, bent down and took a look. "The impeller end cover gasket is completely worn out, and there are two small holes rusted through the inlet."
"That's why we used it for simulation." Old Fang squatted down and tapped the water pump casing with his finger, rust shavings falling off. "The old parts for the big competition won't give you something that's 80% new. They're all this kind of stuff, so rusted you can't even read the model number."
Ah Hai poked his head out of the workshop, still holding a wrench for removing fuel injectors in his hand.
He glanced at the water pump on the ground, paused for a moment, walked over, squatted down, and tapped the impeller housing with a wrench.
"Can it still spin when it's rusted like this?"
"Whether it can be turned or not, we'll have to take it apart to see." Old Fang stood up, took two steps towards the workshop, and turned back. "Today's work: Ahai, disassemble this water pump, clean and inspect it, make a parts list, and determine which parts are usable and which need to be replaced. Haisheng, weld those two rust holes at the inlet. Haisheng, have you seen the scoring criteria for used parts management?"
Zhou Haisheng had just come out of the old parts warehouse, holding a registration book in his hand.
He nodded.
"The judges will randomly pick up an old part and ask you questions. You'll handle every single part that was taken apart from this water pump today. No need for a register; just look at them and touch them to see if they're usable and how to use them."
Ding Haifeng stood up from under the window of the old parts warehouse.
He had been squatting there wiping the micrometer, but upon hearing Lao Fang's words, he put the micrometer back in its box and walked over to the water pump.
He didn't speak, but stood next to Zhou Haisheng, looking down at the rusted water pump.
"Haifeng, you're not allowed to touch him today." Old Fang put the cigarette back in his mouth, and seeing Ding Haifeng look up at him, he added, "You'll be the judge today."
"I?"
"You review the items Haisheng has touched. Haisheng must listen to everything you say. If he's wrong, point it out."
Ding Haifeng didn't say anything more.
He took a step back, leaned against the loquat tree trunk, and put his hands in the pockets of his work clothes.
The wind blew the loquat leaves over, revealing the grayish-white fuzz on their undersides.
It's gotten a little cooler.
He was wearing a blue cotton school uniform, the sleeves of which were a bit too short, exposing his wrists, which were slightly red from the wind. He didn't seem to care.
Ahai had already dragged the water pump to the cement ground at the workshop entrance, brought over a box of copper gaskets and sealing gaskets, and also carried over a bucket of diesel fuel.
He rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, squatted down, and used a wrench to remove the bolts from the impeller end cover.
The rusted bolts made a squeaking sound when I tightened them. When I got to the third one, the wrench slipped, and my finger hit the rough edge of the water pump housing, scraping my skin.
He wiped his hands on his pants, changed the position of his grip on the wrench, and continued to tighten it.
Lin Xiu'e moved a training pine plank from the stone trough.
This board is new; it wasn't used in the previous eight training boards. The pine wood has a dense grain, and the surface hasn't been grooved yet.
She placed the board on the stone trough and took out a chisel from her tool bag.
The chisel blade was newly sharpened yesterday; Qiu Changhai helped her sharpen it. The dark sheen on the blade looked like a silver line when viewed against the sea.
She tested the cutting edge and began carving the first groove on the left side of the board.
The chisel blade cut into the pine wood, making a slight tearing sound from the wood grain.
The groove isn't deep, but it needs to be chiseled straight, with each chisel stroke pressing on the extension line of the previous one.
Her hands were steady, her wrists barely moved, and her fingers gripped the chisel handle, her knuckles turning slightly white from the force.
She stopped when she had cut half of the first groove and used calipers to measure the width of the groove.
It's 0.3 millimeters narrower on the left.
She changed the angle of the chisel and gently scraped a piece along the wall of the groove.
A small strip of sawdust fell onto the edge of the stone trough.
"Sister Xiu'e." Ding Haifeng walked over at some point.
He stood beside the stone trough, holding a mimeographed scoring standard in his hand, the page from the old items management section of the competition.
He looked down at the pine planks, then at the scoring criteria.
"What's up?"
"No." He flipped the scoring standard over, with the back facing Lin Xiu'e. "The width of the groove, the scoring standard for the grand competition is plus or minus 0.1 millimeters. Yours was 0.3."
Lin Xiu'e glanced at the scoring criteria in his hand, then at the groove she had just cleaned. "You've even memorized the scoring criteria for sew-making."
I just glanced at it.
"Okay." She placed the chisel on the stone trough, picked up the slab that she had just chipped in half, and started chipping again.
This time, the measurement was taken after every two cuts, and the data from all three measurements were within 0.1%.
Ding Haifeng stood there for a while, then left.
Ah Hai has already removed the impeller end cover.
He flipped the end cap over and placed it on the cement floor. The sealing gasket inside was so aged that it crumbled into dust with the touch of a finger.
The impeller was exposed, and of the five blades, only three remained intact due to rust; the edges of the other two blades had been rusted into serrated shapes.
"The impeller is ruined." He placed the wrench on the pump casing, looked up at Lao Fang and shouted, "The broken bolt on the inlet flange needs to be drilled out. It rusted through two holes and needs to be welded back on."
He spoke faster than usual, probably because the parts he was holding were breaking down one after another, and his mouth couldn't stop. "The shaft seal is also ruined. When we opened it up, the filler had all dried into powder."
"How many can you fix?"
Ahai looked down at the parts lined up on the ground.
The pump body is still there. Although the outer casing is badly rusted, the cast iron walls are thick and there is no rust through.
The impeller definitely needs to be replaced. The shaft seal packing needs to be reinstalled. The entire set of gaskets needs to be cut to new pieces.
The broken bolt on the inlet flange was drilled off and re-taped.
He counted on his fingers, "The pump body is usable. We'll weld the inlet and then install a flange gasket. The shaft seal will be refilled. All the gaskets will be replaced. As for the impeller, there are no spare parts available; we'll have to buy one in town."
"Take apart an old pump, keep the usable parts, and scrap the unusable ones." Old Fang flicked his cigarette. "That's how you determine the usability of used parts."
Ding Haisheng put on his mask.
The welding slag that splattered on the face mask and goggles yesterday has been wiped clean.
He squatted down at the entrance of the new workshop. In front of him was the water inlet flange that Ah Hai had dismantled. Two rust holes, each about the thickness of a little finger, were next to each other. The sheet metal at the edge was as thin as paper; you could poke it with your finger and it would break.
He clamped the welding rod into the welding pliers, but didn't rush to light the arc. He first used the welding pliers to walk around the position twice to feel the path of his wrist.
Then he looked down at the row of burn scars on his left wrist.
The fresh red marks from the burn haven't faded yet, while the old scars have already turned white.
A flash of light.
Molten iron flowed down from the tip of the welding rod, melting the dead iron at the edge of the rusted hole into a small pool of bright red liquid.
He moved his wrist very slowly, drawing small circles with the welding rod in the molten pool, filling the pool with molten iron circle by circle.
The sea breeze blew in from the entrance of the new workshop, causing the arc light to flicker.
He turned to the side, using his shoulder to block the wind from entering.
"It's windy. Move in a bit." Old Fang's voice came from behind.
Ding Haisheng didn't look up, turned the flange halfway around, and continued welding with his back to the door.
After welding the first hole, he used a slag hammer to knock off the slag, revealing the weld seam underneath.
The fish scale pattern is uniform, without any bite edges or air holes.
He touched the edge of the weld with his finger; it was still hot, so hot that his fingertip recoiled.
Old Fang walked over, squatted down, and looked at it without saying a word. After looking at it for a while, he stood up and left.
As I walked to the workshop entrance, I glanced back at the new workshop, a cigarette dangling from my mouth, the ash piling up for ages without being flicked off.
Zhou Haisheng squatted down in front of the pile of disassembled parts.
Impeller, shaft seal cover, gasket fragments, flange bolts, and inlet hose remnants were all piled up on the edge of the worktable.
He picked up the impeller, ran his fingers along the rusted serrations on the edge of the blades, and stopped when he touched the third blade.
There is a very thin crack on the back of this leaf, extending about one centimeter from the base of the leaf to the tip. You can't feel it at all unless you touch it carefully.
He held the impeller up to the light to examine it. The cracks were so fine that they were almost invisible to the naked eye.
"The shaft seal packing has dried into powder; this is scrap." He put down the shaft seal cap and picked up the flange bolts. The threads on the bolts were rusted and worn; he couldn't tighten the nut all the way in with his fingers. "The threads are stripped; it's scrap."
He doesn't look at people when he speaks; it's as if he's talking to himself.
Pick up an item, touch it, put it back, and mutter to yourself whether it works or not.
Ding Haifeng leaned against the loquat tree trunk, his hands still in his work clothes pockets.
His eyes followed Zhou Haisheng's hand.
Every time Zhou Haisheng picked up a part, his gaze would linger on that part.
When Zhou Haisheng held the impeller up to the light, his hand, which was in his pocket, twitched, then stopped.
"Haisheng, what's wrong with the impeller?"
"There's a crack." Zhou Haisheng handed over the impeller.
Ding Haifeng took it and ran his fingers over the back of the leaf.
When I touched the third piece, my fingertip stopped on the crack.
He took the micrometer out of his pocket, measured it on both sides of the crack, and then measured it three more times from different angles, recording the data on a draft paper.
The leaf roots extend further, and the cracks appear deeper than they do on the surface.
When the impeller is mounted on a water pump and rotates, the centrifugal force will tear the cracks open. Once the impeller breaks, the fragments will damage the inner wall of the pump body and may even jam the main shaft.
He looked at the impeller in his hand, then at Zhou Haisheng. He straightened up, turned the impeller over, and pointed to the crack for him to see.
"It's not just scrap. The crack extends at least two millimeters from the leaf root. It will break before it can even reach its rated speed after being installed."
"I just said it was scrapped because the blades rusted." Zhou Haisheng took the impeller and felt the cracks on the back of the blades again. "There's another crack I didn't feel."
"The light was dim just now."
Old Fang walked over and listened to everything. He took the cigarette out of his mouth, stubbed it out, put it in his pocket, patted Ding Haifeng on the shoulder, and said, "You're a good judge." Then he looked at Zhou Haisheng and asked, "Did you remember what Haifeng said just now?"
"Got it. The crack is deeper than it looks on the surface, so I'll have to feel it several times." Zhou Haisheng put the scrapped impeller aside and continued picking up the next part.
Each time he picked one up, he carefully touched it with his fingers, and then held it up to the light to examine it.
When he touched the coupling, his hand stopped. He measured it several times with calipers but still couldn't be sure. He turned to look for Ding Haifeng.
Ding Haifeng had already walked over, before he could call out to him.
At the edge of the stone trough, Lin Xiue's second groove was only halfway cut when something went wrong.
The wood grain is too hard, and the chisel blade feels a bit rough when cutting into it.
She stopped what she was doing, squatted down to examine the direction of the wood grain. This pine plank was cut from the root of the trunk, and the wood grain was twisted. If she tried to carve a groove along the grain, the chisel would go astray.
She moved the plank aside and picked out another one from the remaining pine planks.
He picked out a piece of wood with straight grain and no knots, placed it on the stone trough, pressed his palm on the surface, and nodded.
My shooting touch wasn't good today.
She knew it in her heart, but she didn't say it.
She thought it might be because she got up too early, or maybe her eyes were a little sore from looking through the rating criteria until midnight last night.
She swung the chisel on the whetstone a couple more times, and the blade gleamed once more.
I squatted down and started carving the first groove on the new board; this time my hand didn't shake.
When Jiang Haiping walked over to her, she was measuring the width of the groove. The calipers were clamped onto the groove opening, and the graduations on the vernier scale were aligned exactly at the 0.1 position.
"This board is much easier to carve than the previous one." Her voice carried a hint of satisfaction, and her shoulders relaxed.
"What about the one we just replaced?"
"The grain is twisted. That board is impossible to work with. It's not a problem with the craftsmanship, it's a problem with the carpenter's choice of materials." She swung the chisel on the whetstone a couple more times, squatted down and chiseled the first groove into the new board. This time, each chisel stroke was steady and resonant.
She thought for a moment, then looked up again, "That piece should be kept."
"Why keep it?"
"Keep this for future newcomers to practice on. Let them experience the frustration of making a mistake on the board."
Jiang Haiping's lips twitched slightly, but he didn't say anything, turned around and left.
He remembered his father saying something like this: Being able to recognize a board at a glance is not enough; it's more useful than being able to cut ten slits in a good board.
This happened many years ago. His father was repairing a tugboat in the yard, and he squatted down next to him, handing him a wrench.
His father pointed to the bottom of the boat with his chin and said, "First learn to read wood, then learn how to cut it." He kept these words to himself and didn't say them aloud.
Ahai's parts list filled an entire page of the register.
He carried the water pump casing back to the workshop, brushed the inner wall with diesel, and after cleaning off the sludge, placed it under the window to dry, waiting to install the new impeller and sealing gasket in the afternoon.
The broken bolt on the flange had been drilled out. Ding Haisheng repaired it by welding and then tapped the thread again. He tested the new bolt and found that the threads were tightly engaged without any looseness or play.
He squatted down and picked up the old shaft seal packing pieces one by one, putting them into a small iron box. There was a piece of white tape on the lid of the iron box that read "Waste packing, for reference".
He stood up, dusted off his knees, and walked over to Ding Haifeng.
"You've looked at it for so long, which part is the best?"
Ding Haifeng thought for a moment and picked up a coupling from the ground.
There were no cracks on the coupling end face, and the keyway only had slight wear. He measured it with calipers, and the dimensions were within the tolerance range. "This one. The keyway wear is 0.03%, so it can be used in a lower gear on the auxiliary pump."
Ah Hai took it, looked at it over and over, and nodded. "I think it's gone. I didn't think this one would work."
"You only looked at the rust." Ding Haifeng flipped the coupling over and pointed to the keyway with his finger. "The rust is just on the surface; you can just sand it off. The keyway is the crucial factor in whether it's usable."
"Got it." Ah Hai put the coupling in the "Available" pile, thought for a moment, and then wrote "Downshift, Auxiliary Pump" on the label. After writing that, he turned around and grinned at Ding Haifeng.
Jiang Haiping leaned against the loquat tree trunk, reached into his work clothes pocket, and touched the letter.
The letter his mother wrote had frayed edges on the envelope, and the paper was slightly warm from her body heat in his pocket.
As he walked back, he remembered something: his mother said they had five jin of grain coupons left over. Five jin. Was that enough for ten days, or half a month? He tried to calculate it in his head, but couldn't figure it out.
The last time he went home for dinner, his mother stir-fried a plate of cured pork. The pork was sliced so thinly it was translucent. He ate three slices and then stopped. She asked him what was wrong, and he said he was full.
"Brother Haiping." Hong Xiaobing's voice came from the door of the old parts warehouse.
He had just returned from the dock, his hands covered in barnacle shell fragments and a mud stain on his forehead. "The fishing boats from Hongjia Island are going out to sea tomorrow, so we brought the sampans here this afternoon for maintenance."
"Whose ship is it?"
"The one in my house."
"The gearbox was disassembled last time, this time focus on the oil seals and bearings." Jiang Haiping straightened up from the loquat tree trunk, stuffed the letter deeper into his pocket, and walked towards the dock.
The pebbles on the seawall were scorching hot from the midday sun, and the sea breeze blowing in from the north made the hem of his work clothes slap loudly.
In the distance, the old water pump had been dismantled down to its cast iron body, with the parts piled up in two on the workbench. Ah Hai was squatting between the old and new piles, writing labels on them.
Inside the workshop, Ding Haisheng was still welding the last rust spot, the arc light flashing intermittently.
Lin Xiu'e's new pine planks have been carved with three grooves, and the data for each groove is firmly within the tolerance range. The pot of tung oil putty next to her has been filled again.
As he walked along the seawall, a thought suddenly popped into his head, completely unrelated to what he had been daydreaming about: he hadn't replied to that letter yet.