Chương 637: Just do it! Let's fucking kill them!

Let's fucking kill them!

"And academic honors?" Wang Chui rubbed his hands together, his face flushed red.

"Can a rough blacksmith like me really become an official? Can I really wear official robes?"

"How could it be false?" Song Yingxing raised an eyebrow.

"His Majesty said it himself, how could it be false? As long as you do a good job, you can get a fifth-rank craftsman position, let alone a ninth-rank one!"

As he spoke, he deliberately cleared his throat, mimicking Liu Ce's tone and even his gestures perfectly:

"Minister Song, the rice has already been served to you in a bowl. Don't make me support a bunch of people who can only stare blankly. If you can't handle this, you can resign as Minister of Works and go to the workshop to work with the craftsmen to file parts."

"Hahahaha!" The research institute erupted in laughter instantly, even the most serious old craftsmen couldn't hold back.

His Majesty always speaks in such plain language, without beating around the bush, and he always loves to joke.

Wang Chui laughed so hard he slapped his thigh, making the chopping block next to him clang loudly.

"Your Majesty is so amusing! What kind of emperor speaks like that!"

Song Yingxing laughed, then added, "His Majesty's original words were even rougher than this; I'm embarrassed to even imitate them. There's another line at the end: 'If you do a good job, I'll back you up; if you don't, I'll personally come to the workshop to supervise your work.'"

After laughing, Song Yingxing glanced around, his expression slowly darkening. It wasn't sternness, but rather the kind of sullenness that comes from pent-up emotions that had finally found an outlet after a year of suppressed feelings.

"Let me speak from the bottom of my heart." His voice wasn't loud, but every word struck a chord deep within.

"When we received the first steam engine blueprints a few years ago, how many people thought it was some kind of cryptic script? How many people stayed up all night cursing at those markings? I cursed them myself, even more fiercely than you all! I even told His Majesty that this thing wouldn't be built in ten years!"

He patted the blueprint for the steam locomotive.

"But we finished it in a year. It's not because I'm so great, it's because His Majesty gave us the right path. He broke through the toughest barrier, and what's left is dirty work, hard work, and death-defying tasks. It's about pulling all-nighters, exploding furnaces, getting burn scars, and making mistakes and starting over a hundred times. These are the duties of us craftsmen in the Ministry of Works! Which of you doesn't have burn scars on your hands?"

Everyone fell silent. Some touched the burn scars on their arms, while others gripped their files tightly, their eyes gleaming with fury.

"This time is different." Song Yingxing paused, then flipped his hand, pushing a table full of blueprints in front of everyone.

"Last time, His Majesty gave us a bone to chase. This time, His Majesty has slaughtered the whole pig, removed its hair, cut it into pieces, and even prepared the stew pot and firewood on the stove. All that's missing is for you to dip your spoons into the pot and stir!"

He became more and more excited as he spoke, spitting as he spoke, and waving his arms in the air with a whooshing sound.

As soon as he finished speaking, Ma Ping, who had been silent all along, suddenly stood up:

"What kind of talk is that, Minister? What pig-like nonsense! To put it another way: His Majesty has personally drawn up the blueprints, the money is piled up to the threshold, people can be picked and poached at will, and even our monthly wages have increased several times over..."

He scanned everyone present, his eyes wide, the curse he was about to utter was swallowed back, and he managed to utter the harshest one:

"If we're fed the food and still can't chew it, how can we face His Majesty? That's not craftsmanship, that's... uselessness!"

"Pah!"

The first person to clap was Gou Sheng, whose small hand clapped until his palm was bright red.

Next came the apprentices, then the foundry workers, wheelwrights, cannon makers, and riveters who had switched from bamboo weaving—dozens of hands clapped so loudly it shook the heavens...

"Well said!"

"Let's do it! Who's afraid of who!"

"Last time, it took me three months to figure out that sealing packing. This time, with the standard markings, if we still can't get it right, we'll all jump into the steel furnace and add some iron!"

"Group them up, Your Excellency! How? I'll lead the team to work on the train wheel sets! I'll take on this job! If I can't handle it, I'll offer my head!"

"That boring machine part is mine! I've been dreaming about that tool holder! If you don't give it to me, I'll get angry!"

"The boat is mine! My ancestors have been boatmen for three generations! I know this job like the back of my hand! I know all about water resistance!"

"Give us the rolling mill! We guarantee qualified steel rails within six months! If we can't, I'll crush my head in it! I'll turn myself into a sheet of iron!"

The crowd was noisy and jostling, like they were grabbing a red envelope, all crowding around Song Yingxing, afraid of missing out on a good job.

The once quiet hall instantly transformed into a bustling marketplace, so noisy it hurt my ears, with spittle flying everywhere.

Cook Zhang Wei, carrying food, couldn't squeeze in and stood on tiptoe, calling out:

"Hey! Dinner's ready! Eat first! We can get back to work after that! The steamed buns are fresh out of the oven! They're still hot!"

He called out three times, but no one paid any attention.

Everyone was staring at the blueprints, discussing the dimensions and processes, forgetting even that they were hungry. Their eyes were glued to the blueprints, and no one could look away.

Zhang Wei pursed his lips, put the food aside, and went over to take a look, muttering to himself:

"What's this thing that looks so good? Let me take a look... Hey, this iron ship doesn't have sails? How amazing!"

Song Yingxing stood by the table, looking at the group of madmen who were covered in dirt but had bright eyes, and couldn't help but smile.

He reached out and turned on the kerosene work lamp on the desk a little.

It was already dark outside the window, and the snow was still falling, but the workshop was warm and cozy.

The light flickered, casting a warm yellow glow on everyone's faces and onto the densely packed blueprints, like a small, brightly burning boiler fire.

No one knew that this small fire would one day spread throughout the entire Han Dynasty, creating an unprecedented industrial golden age.

But at that moment, all they knew was, just do it! Fuck them!

..................

In the eighth year of the Han calendar, the eighth year of Shenwu's reign, in the third month.

The spring breeze softened the willow branches of Luoyang, and peach blossoms, crabapple blossoms, and forsythia blossomed in the Imperial Garden in a lively and bustling manner. Pink, white, and yellow blossoms crowded together, and the fragrance drifted into Ganlu Palace on the wind. It was so sweet that it made people want to doze off.

At the palace gate, Minister of Works Song Yingxing stood ramrod straight, his smile stretching almost to his ears...

Around this time last year, his temples were completely white, his eyes were sunken, and he walked unsteadily. He spent every day in the workshop battling the blown-up furnace, and he looked ten years older, with half of his beard turning white.

This year, things have gotten much better. My temples have turned a little blacker, and my cheeks have become rounder. I run back and forth between the research institute and the test site every day, exposed to the wind and sun, but I'm getting more and more energetic. I even walk faster than last year.

His official robe was newly made, and he had a shiny silver tube pinned to his collar. It was the first finished product produced by the first steam boring machine, and its size was perfect. He treasured it and wore it every day, intentionally or unintentionally tugging at his collar whenever he met someone, as if afraid that others would not see it.

At the last court assembly, he deliberately approached Xun Yu and pretended to adjust his clothes, just waiting for Xun Yu to ask, "What is that on Old Song's collar?" so he could show off.