Time: Spring, C.E. 60
Ten-year-old Nangong Wentian crouched in front of the backyard Smelting Furnace, staring at the flickering flames in the hearth, his eyes bloodshot.
Three months.
From last winter until now, a full three months, he had spent almost all his spare time in front of this crude Smelting Furnace. Xiao Guang stayed with him, helping to add charcoal, pass tools, keep watch, and occasionally handing him a roasted sweet potato to remind him to eat.
But eating was something he had long since forgotten.
"Wentian," Xiao Guang whispered, crouching beside him, "how many times is this?"
Nangong Wentian didn't answer. He stared at the temperature gauge in the furnace, watching the needle slowly climb to 1,000 degrees, then stood up and used iron tongs to pull out the crucible.
The molten aluminum inside the crucible shimmered with a silvery-white light, much clearer than the first time. He poured the aluminum into a mold, waited for it to cool, then picked up the metal piece and examined it carefully.
The surface was smooth, the cross-section fine, the color uniform.
He tapped it with his hand—a crisp metallic sound.
Just like last time.
But he knew this time was different. This time, he had adjusted the proportions of trace elements, reducing vanadium from 0.3% to 0.25% and increasing chromium from 0.2% to 0.25%. This was the optimal ratio derived from hundreds of simulations by the "Star Core."
Now, it needed verification.
He took out a crude testing device from the toolbox beside him—a homemade hardness tester using a spring and a micrometer. He placed the metal block on the device, pressed the handle, and read the scale.
Hardness: 85.
Seven points higher than last time's 78.
He took out another device—a homemade tensile testing frame using a lever and weights. He processed the metal into a thin strip, clamped it onto the frame, and gradually added weights.
Weight at fracture: 23 kilograms.
Converted to tensile strength, it was approximately 320 MPa.
Standard industrial-grade aluminum alloy had a tensile strength of around 180 MPa.
320 was 1.8 times that.
Nangong Wentian stared at the numbers, his hand trembling slightly.
It worked.
It really worked.
"Wentian?" Xiao Guang asked worriedly, seeing him in a daze. "What's wrong? Did it fail?"
Nangong Wentian turned to look at him. Fourteen-year-old Xiao Guang, his face smudged with charcoal dust, his eyes filled with worry and anticipation.
"Xiao Guang," his voice was hoarse, "do you know how many times this is?"
Xiao Guang was taken aback, scratching his head. "I... I didn't keep count. Many times, right?"
"Three hundred and twenty times," Nangong Wentian said. "This is the three hundred and twenty-first time."
Xiao Guang's mouth fell open, speechless for a long moment.
Three hundred and twenty-one times. Three months, over ninety days, averaging three to four times a day. Sometimes, a single attempt took several hours—waiting for the furnace to cool, reloading materials, reheating.
This was the three hundred and twenty-first time.
"It worked?" Xiao Guang asked cautiously.
Nangong Wentian nodded. "It worked."
Xiao Guang froze for a second, then suddenly jumped up. "It worked! It worked, it worked, it worked!"
He lowered his voice in excitement, spinning around in place several times before grabbing Nangong Wentian in a tight hug. "Wentian, you're amazing! Over three hundred attempts! You actually did it!"
Nangong Wentian was squeezed breathless, but he couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. He looked at the silvery-white metal in his hand, his eyes growing slightly warm.
Three hundred and twenty-one failures.
He had doubted himself before. In the dead of night, he had questioned whether it was all worth it. At the hundredth failure, he had almost given up.
But every time he thought of quitting, those images would resurface—Bloody Valentine, where 240,000 people turned to cosmic dust; the disintegration of Heliopolis, countless families torn apart; the tears of war orphans, children like Xiao Guang who had lost their parents.
If he gave up, those images would become reality.
So he couldn't give up.
"Xiao Guang," he said softly, "give it a name."
Xiao Guang was taken aback. "Me? Name it?"
"Yes."
Xiao Guang stared at the metal, scratching his head as he thought for a long moment. Then he said, "How about... Stellar Core One?"
Nangong Wentian looked at him.
Xiao Guang felt a little embarrassed. "Didn't you say we're going to make the 'Star Core' system in the future? This alloy is the first result, so calling it Stellar Core One... is that okay?"
Nangong Wentian fell silent for a moment before nodding. "Okay."
Stellar Core One.
From today on, it had a name.
"Let's go," Nangong Wentian stood up. "We need to find Grandpa Yamada."
Xiao Guang was puzzled. "What for?"
"Testing," Nangong Wentian replied, slipping the metal into his pocket. "Our tests are too rudimentary. We need a professional."
At the scrapyard, Yamada was sitting in his small shed, drinking tea. When he saw the two boys rush in, he greeted them with a smile. "Oh, you're back again? What do you need today?"
Nangong Wentian pulled the metal from his pocket and placed it in front of Yamada. "Grandpa Yamada, do you know anyone who can do material testing?"
Yamada was taken aback. He picked up the metal, turning it over and examining it carefully. His expression shifted from casual to serious.
"Is this... an alloy?" he asked.
"Yes," Nangong Wentian nodded. "I made it myself."
Yamada looked up at him, his gaze complex. He had known this boy for several years, aware of his intelligence and his tinkering with various things, but he never expected him to create something like this.
"Wait here," he said, standing up and walking to the back of the shed to make a phone call.
After the call, he returned to Nangong Wentian. "I have an old friend who works at the Industrial Testing Center. He said he can help you test it, but there's a fee."
"How much?"
"A thousand per test. For tensile strength, hardness, and composition—three tests total—it'll be three thousand."
Nangong Wentian fell silent for a moment before nodding. "Test it."
Three thousand was all the savings he had accumulated over the past few months. But if this alloy truly met the expected performance, what was three thousand?
Three days later, the test results came in.
Yamada handed the report to Nangong Wentian, his expression unusually serious.
Nangong Wentian took the report and read it line by line.
Material Composition: Aluminum-based alloy, containing 4.5% copper, 1.2% magnesium, 0.8% silicon, 0.24% vanadium, 0.23% chromium...
Tensile Strength: 335 MPa
Yield Strength: 280 MPa
Elongation: 12%
Hardness: 88HRB
Each measurement was slightly higher than his own tests.
The tensile strength of standard industrial-grade aluminum alloy is around 180MPa. Stellar Core One is 1.86 times that.
And the cost? He had calculated it. If using recycled scrap, the cost per kilogram was less than one-fifth of imported materials. Even with pure raw materials, the cost was only one-third.
"Kid," Yamada stared at him, "did you make this?"
Nangong Wentian nodded.
Yamada fell silent for a long time, then let out a deep sigh.
"You know," he said, "I've been in this business for over thirty years. I've seen at least eight thousand, if not ten thousand, different materials. Aluminum alloy with this kind of performance—I've only seen it in military products from the Atlantic Federation. And those products cost at least... five times as much as this."
Nangong Wentian said nothing.
"This thing could make a fortune," Yamada looked at him. "Do you want to sell it?"
Nangong Wentian thought for a moment, then said, "Yes."
Yamada smiled. "I knew it. Alright, I'll help you find a buyer. But kid, let me be blunt—there are plenty of people eyeing this kind of technology. You're just a kid. Be careful not to get swallowed whole."
Nangong Wentian nodded. "I know."
Yamada looked at him, a flicker of admiration in his eyes.
This kid was no ordinary child.
After leaving the scrapyard, Xiao Guang was so excited he bounced all the way home. "Wentian, did you hear? Grandpa Yamada said we could make a fortune! We're going to be rich!"
Nangong Wentian didn't respond. He just stared at the report in his hand.
Three hundred and twenty-one failures.
Finally, there was a result.
That night, Nangong Wentian sat alone on the stone steps in the backyard, gazing up at the star-filled sky.
Xiao Guang was already asleep. The entire orphanage was asleep. Only he remained awake, watching those distant stars, thinking of a distant future.