Time: Spring, C.E. 58
Seven years and nine months old, Nangong Wentian squatted in a corner of the back kitchen, a broken bowl laid out before him.
The bowl had shattered that afternoon. Sayuri's hand had slipped while carrying the meal, and the bowl fell to the floor, breaking into three pieces. Sayuri had cried for a long time, terrified—the orphanage's tableware was already insufficient. Losing one bowl meant someone would have to eat from a broken one or wait until others had finished.
Nangong Wentian picked up the fragments and "scanned" them with the "Star Core."
Of course, it wasn't a real scan—his hardware wasn't capable of that yet. But in his mind, he called up the "Digital Model" of this bowl: the material was ordinary plastic, about 2 millimeters thick, with the thinnest part at the bottom being only 1.5 millimeters. The fracture showed characteristics of brittle failure, indicating the material had aged and its toughness had severely declined.
"Another stress concentration problem," he said silently to himself.
"Wentian!" Xiao Guang's voice came from behind. "What are you doing squatting there? It's time to eat."
Nangong Wentian turned and saw Xiao Guang standing at the back kitchen door, holding a bowl of porridge. Twelve-year-old Xiao Guang had grown a little taller but was still thin. The baby fat on his face had faded, revealing the contours of a youth.
"Looking at the bowl," Nangong Wentian said, holding up the fragments.
Xiao Guang leaned in for a look. "If it's broken, it's broken. It's not the first time. Which of our bowls hasn't been mended?"
He wasn't wrong. Most of the orphanage's tableware had been repaired—cracks glued, chipped edges sanded smooth, and if all else failed, bound with wire to keep using it. Sister Mary had a special toolbox filled with various items for mending tableware.
But repairs could only solve the problem temporarily, not fundamentally improve it.
"Xiao Guang," Nangong Wentian suddenly asked, "do you know why bowls break when dropped?"
Xiao Guang scratched his head. "Because... they were dropped?"
"Why do they break when dropped?"
Xiao Guang was stumped. He thought for a long time before blurting out, "Because... bowls are ceramic?"
"This one is plastic."
Xiao Guang looked down at the fragment; it was indeed plastic. He thought again, then gave up. "I don't know. Do you know, Wentian?"
Nangong Wentian stood up, brushing the dust off his hands. "Yes."
Xiao Guang's eyes lit up. "Why?"
"Because its structure is flawed." Nangong Wentian pointed to the patterns on the fragment. "Look, the fractures are all at the edge of the bottom. It's too thin here, and there's a right angle where stress concentrates. One drop, and it cracks."
Xiao Guang listened, understanding only part of it. He grasped "too thin" but didn't comprehend what "stress concentration" meant.
"So... what can we do?"
Nangong Wentian was silent for a moment, then said, "Redesign one."
Xiao Guang was stunned. "Redesign? You?"
"Yes."
"But..." Xiao Guang scratched his head. "Can you make bowls?"
Nangong Wentian did not answer. He didn't know how to make bowls, but he knew how to optimize structures. The UC Era had countless classic cases of material mechanics, and the 00 Era had the design philosophy of reinforcing ribs for E-Carbon Armor. A plastic bowl, no matter how complex, couldn't be more complicated than MS Armor.
Moreover, he had the "Star Core."
That night, after everyone had fallen asleep, Nangong Wentian quietly got up and slipped into the kitchen.
He took out the terminal of the "Star Core" from the wooden box—a worn-out screen connected to a jumble of circuit boards. He booted up the system and called up the Material Mechanics Module.
This was a function he had recently perfected. He input the basic mechanics formulas from the UC Era stored in his mind and added parameters for materials commonly found in the SEED world. Now, the "Star Core" could perform simple stress analysis.
He first created a model of a bowl. The parameters came from measurements of the broken bowl—15 centimeters in diameter, 6 centimeters in height, a wall thickness of 2 millimeters, and the thinnest part at the bottom being 1.5 millimeters. He selected ordinary plastic as the material, inputting standard values for density, elastic modulus, and yield strength.
Then he set the loading conditions—free fall from a height of 15 centimeters, impacting a horizontal, hard ground surface.
He clicked "Simulate."
The cursor on the screen blinked for a long time—the rudimentary CPU's processing speed was pitifully slow. Nangong Wentian waited a full five minutes before the results appeared.
Maximum stress point: inner edge of the bottom.
Maximum stress value: 28.7 MPa.
Material yield strength: 25 MPa.
Conclusion: Overloaded, failure.
It matched reality perfectly.
Nangong Wentian stared at the results and began thinking about optimization solutions.
The simplest method was to thicken the bottom. But thickening meant adding material and weight, which would also increase costs. The orphanage's budget was already tight; he couldn't use an overly expensive solution.
So, he would optimize the structure without adding material.
He recalled the design philosophy of E-Carbon Armor from the 00 Era—using reinforcing ribs to distribute stress and enhance structural strength without increasing weight.
If he designed the bottom of the bowl into a grid pattern, distributing the stress across the entire bottom...
He began modeling in the "Star Core."
First version: three radial reinforcing ribs added to the bottom.
Second version: circular reinforcing ribs added to the bottom.
Third version: a composite structure of radial and circular ribs.
Fourth version: optimizing the cross-sectional shape of the ribs, changing from rectangular to trapezoidal...
He simulated version after version, optimizing each time. With every optimization, the maximum stress value dropped a little. By the seventh version, the maximum stress had decreased to 18.3 MPa—nearly 30% lower than the material's yield strength.
In other words, the strength of this design was over 1.5 times that of the original.
"Done," Nangong Wentian murmured, a slight smile curling at the corner of his mouth as he looked at the results on the screen.
Outside the window, the sky was beginning to lighten. He hadn't slept all night, but he didn't feel tired at all.
The next day, Nangong Wentian found Tanaka.
Tanaka was scrubbing pots in the kitchen, his hands covered in soap suds. Seeing Nangong Wentian enter, he asked without looking up, "Here to experiment again?"
"No," Nangong Wentian shook his head. "I wanted to ask Uncle Tanaka for a favor."
Tanaka finally looked up, curious. "What favor?"
"Could you give me some scrap plastic?"
Tanaka was taken aback. "Scrap plastic? What for?"
"Make a bowl."
Tanaka thought he had misheard. "Make what?"
"A bowl," Nangong Wentian repeated. "The kind used for eating."
Tanaka stared at him for a long moment, confirming he wasn't joking, then asked, "You know how to make a bowl?"
"I'll try."
Tanaka fell silent for a while, then pointed to a burlap sack in the corner of the kitchen. "Over there, it's all waste packaging boxes, broken plastic basins, and such. Take what you need."
Nangong Wentian thanked Tanaka and walked over to the sack, beginning to rummage through it.
There was plenty of scrap plastic, but most of it wasn't suitable for making utensils—some too thin, some too brittle, some of unknown origin and possibly toxic. After picking through it for a while, he finally selected a few thicker plastic sheets—likely salvaged from a secondhand market, originally the lids of some containers.
"Can these be used?" he asked Tanaka.
Tanaka walked over and examined them, nodding. "This is food-grade plastic, probably from some container's lid. It'll work."
Nangong Wentian breathed a sigh of relief and carried the plastic sheets back to the corner of the kitchen.
Next, he needed to turn these plastic sheets into a bowl.
Melt, pour, mold.
Simple in theory, difficult in practice.
He first built a simple furnace—a circle of firebricks, charcoal placed underneath, and an old iron can set on top. The iron can was something he had scavenged from a scrap yard, cleaned thoroughly, and reserved specifically for melting plastic.
Xiao Guang crouched nearby, watching everything with curiosity. "Wentian, are you really going to make a bowl yourself?"
"Yes."
"But..." Xiao Guang scratched his head. "Will it work?"
Nangong Wentian didn't answer and started the fire.
The charcoal ignited, flames licking the bottom of the iron can. He cut the plastic sheets into small pieces and tossed them into the can. The plastic slowly softened, melted, and turned into a pool of viscous liquid.
"It stinks!" Xiao Guang covered his nose.
It truly did. The smell of melting plastic was foul. Nangong Wentian held his breath, stirring the mixture with an iron wire to ensure even heating.
Once the plastic had fully melted, he extinguished the fire, picked up the iron can, and poured the liquid into a pre-prepared mold.
The mold was made of clay—he had shaped it into the form of a bowl and then hardened it by firing. Crude, but functional.
The liquid filled the mold, steaming. Nangong Wentian watched it, waiting for it to cool and solidify.
Ten minutes later, he gently cracked open the mold and retrieved its contents.
A bowl.
Its shape was fairly regular, though the surface was uneven, and the edges had burrs. Still, it was recognizable as a bowl.
"It worked!" Xiao Guang exclaimed excitedly. "Wentian, look, it worked!"
Nangong Wentian examined the bowl. It had no Reinforcing Ribs, just the most basic shape. Its strength was probably slightly better than the original bowl, but not by much.
He needed to make a bowl with Reinforcing Ribs.
"Xiao Guang," he said, "help me find more plastic."
Without another word, Xiao Guang ran off to rummage through the sack.
Over the next few days, Nangong Wentian kept experimenting.
He carved grooves into the bottom of the mold, allowing the plastic liquid to flow in and form Reinforcing Ribs. The first time, the ribs were too shallow, and their effect was negligible. The second time, they were too deep, making the bottom of the bowl too thin. The third time, their placement was off, and stress still concentrated...
The fifth time, the sixth time, the seventh time...
Each time he failed, he used the Star Core to reanalyze, identify the problem, and make improvements.
Xiao Guang watched from the side, his emotions shifting from initial excitement to later tension, and finally to numbness—he had grown accustomed to Nangong Wentian's failures.
"Wentian," he couldn't help but ask, "just how many times are you going to try?"
"Until I succeed."
Xiao Guang fell silent and continued helping him stoke the fire, pass tools, and keep watch.
The tenth time, the eleventh, the twelfth…
The fourteenth.
Nangong Wentian took the new bowl from the mold and examined it carefully.
This time was different. The bottom of the bowl had clear radial reinforcing ribs and circular reinforcing ribs, interwoven into a grid. The surface was smooth, the edges neat, and the shape uniform.
He tapped it with his finger, producing a crisp sound.
"Xiao Guang," he stood up, "let's go test it."
The two ran into the courtyard. Nangong Wentian raised the bowl and hurled it forcefully at the ground.
Crack!
The bowl hit the ground, bounced once, rolled a few times, and came to a stop.
Nangong Wentian walked over, picked it up, and inspected it closely.
Not a scratch.
He threw it again.
Still intact.
The third time, the fourth, the fifth…
On the tenth throw, the bowl finally developed a small crack, but it remained largely undamaged.
Xiao Guang watched in astonishment: "Wentian, is… is this bowl made of iron?"
"Plastic." Nangong Wentian looked at the crack, silently calculating in his mind—its strength was 1.8 times that of the original bowl, even slightly higher than what the Star Core had simulated.
"Can I give it a try?" Xiao Guang eagerly asked.
Nangong Wentian handed him the bowl.
Xiao Guang took it, mustered all his strength, and hurled it fiercely at the ground.
Crack!
The bowl hit the ground, bounced, and rolled to the corner of the wall.
Xiao Guang ran over to pick it up and checked—still no cracks.
"My god!" Xiao Guang's eyes widened. "This bowl is incredible!"
Nangong Wentian smiled.
Tanaka had been standing at the back kitchen door, watching the scene unfold. He walked over, took the bowl from Xiao Guang's hands, and examined it thoroughly.
"Did you really make this?"
Nangong Wentian nodded.
Tanaka raised the bowl and threw it forcefully at the ground.
Crack!
The bowl bounced several times on the ground before rolling to Nangong Wentian's feet. Nangong Wentian picked it up and handed it back to Tanaka.
Tanaka inspected it for a long while before sighing.
"This craftsmanship," he looked at Nangong Wentian with a complicated expression, "is even better than the factories."
Nangong Wentian didn't reply, only smiled.
Tanaka returned the bowl to him and turned back toward the kitchen. At the doorway, he suddenly stopped and looked back. "From now on, the orphanage's bowls will depend on you."
Nangong Wentian was taken aback for a moment, then nodded. "Alright."
That night, Nangong Wentian lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
The design blueprint for this bowl was stored in the Star Core. The structure, dimensions, placement, and quantity of the reinforcing ribs—every parameter had been meticulously calculated.
This design could be applied to many things in the future.
The reinforcing structure of the E-Carbon Armor began with this bowl.
He closed his eyes and drifted into a deep sleep.
Outside the window, moonlight streamed into the dormitory, falling on the faint, almost imperceptible smile at the corner of his lips.