The light bulbs in the steel mill's main auditorium buzzed. On the blackboard, data for Country M's newest special steel was written in chalk.
Xu Weidong stood at the front of the stage, the cuffs of his army-green work uniform already frayed.
"This is where we fall short, comrades."
The pointer in his hand tapped the tensile strength data. "980 megapascals. That's equivalent to ten tons of pressure per square centimeter."
A series of sharp intakes of breath came from the audience.
Old machinist Zhang Desheng rapped his dry pipe on the concrete floor with a BANG. "Damn it all, and our best steel is only..."
"Ours is nowhere near good enough."
The young lab technician, Lin Xiaomei, chimed in, her ponytail swaying gently as she shook her head. "It's not even a tenth of theirs."
