“The normal coefficient of thermal expansion for steel is in the range of a dozen times ten to the minus six per degree Celsius. For a one-meter-long workpiece, a one-degree temperature change means a length change of over a dozen microns.” Henry Grant continued explaining without even looking up: “You require such high precision, but don’t specify a temperature requirement—doesn’t that make you a half-baked amateur? Besides, the working temperature of a crankshaft is at least several dozen to over a hundred degrees higher than room temperature, so the dimensional expansion is already more than several dozen, even over a hundred microns. Not to mention the deformation caused by complex working conditions—what’s the point of demanding 5 microns?”

“So, unless the designer is just trash, it’s a deliberate attempt to increase processing costs and difficulty, adding extra expenses for no reason.” As Henry Grant said this, he happened to finish sawing the workpiece in his hand, finally looking up at Old Clark and asking, “Old man, what do you think—should a designer like this be fired?”

“If it were up to me, I’d probably fire him too.” Old Clark laughed heartily, looking with interest at the unfinished workpiece in the fat man’s hands, and pointed at a part of it: “What are you making?”

“My graduation project,” Henry Grant answered quickly. “An exoskeleton chair.”

Chapter 0012 Exoskeleton Chair (Part 2)

Old Clark was stunned. He knew what a chair was, but what was an exoskeleton?

After all, Old Clark was just a level-nine fitter. He was definitely a top-notch craftsman, but when it came to these high-tech terms, Old Clark was no match for any college student. At least, he couldn’t understand it right away.

“Do you have blueprints?” Old Clark frowned and asked.

“Yes!” Henry Grant quickly put down the workpiece, grabbed his canvas backpack from nearby, took out a roll of blueprints, and handed them to Old Clark with both hands.

Henry Grant had already drawn the blueprints at home before the new semester started. It didn’t matter if Old Clark couldn’t understand the exoskeleton right away—he could study the drawings at his own pace, which is exactly what he was doing now.

“These dimensions aren’t right!” After flipping through a few pages, Old Clark found the corresponding blueprint from the outline of the workpiece, looked at the drawing, then at the rough blank Henry Grant was working on, and couldn’t help but frown.

Of course, a rough blank needs to have some machining allowance, but what Henry Grant was making clearly had more than just a little extra—the dimensions were obviously off. That was exactly what puzzled Old Clark; a master like the fat man shouldn’t make such a mistake!

Not following the blueprints is a major taboo for frontline workers, and Old Clark couldn’t help but feel a bit annoyed.

“The blueprints are for standard sizes.” Seeing Old Clark’s eyes widen, Henry Grant didn’t care at all and replied confidently, “This one is for myself.”

Old Clark looked at Henry Grant’s massive frame—over three hundred jin and a head taller than most at 1.9 meters—curled his lips, wanted to say something, but couldn’t. The fat man’s size was clearly not standard.

“If you’re making it for yourself, why draw a standard size?” Old Clark was quite dissatisfied, watching Henry Grant busying himself without helping, just asking questions.

“For patent applications and graduation projects, you need a set of standard-size drawings! If you want to produce it, you have to make a set for each size. I just didn’t want to draw more.” Henry Grant answered without a hint of guilt. The stuff in Old Clark’s workshop was just so handy—if only there was titanium alloy, but unfortunately, there wasn’t.

This time, Old Clark was completely speechless and could only wait for the fat man to finish everything and assemble it to see the result. He now discovered another of the fat man’s strengths: an extraordinary spatial imagination—he could make parts without blueprints. No wonder he got into Tsinghua University; he was pretty smart, just not a great student after freshman year—a typical underachiever.

Although Henry Grant’s technique was unusually fast, Old Clark didn’t find it incomprehensible. In his long career, Old Clark had seen countless geniuses with extraordinary abilities in certain areas.

Fatty Grant was born with steady hands, which wasn’t surprising—Old Clark had seen even steadier ones. As for Fatty Grant working without measuring tools, that wasn’t strange either—Old Clark himself could feel a surface difference of less than half a wire by touch alone. It just meant Fatty Grant was gifted in this area.

It was a pity—no matter how poor a student Fatty Grant was, even as an underachiever, he was still an underachiever at Tsinghua University. It was unlikely he’d become a fitter specializing in manual finishing on the front lines.

“Fatty, how long have you been practicing your fitting skills?” In the midst of their chat, Old Clark asked about how long Henry Grant had been honing his craft.

“Not long,” Henry Grant answered honestly. “Just learned a bit helping my dad out over two summer vacations.”

From Henry Grant’s eyes, Old Clark could tell Fatty Grant wasn’t lying, and couldn’t help but feel speechless. Many frontline workers toil for most of their lives and may never reach the level of a level-six fitter, but the fat man just played around and already had skills that inspired awe. The gap was enough to drive people crazy.

As they chatted, Old Clark gave Henry Grant pointers, and before long, all the parts Henry Grant had designed were machined. The hydraulic piston and cylinder were done—only assembly remained.

Watching Henry Grant combine the parts one by one with some pre-cut canvas, and start injecting oil into the hydraulic cylinder for sealing, Old Clark was still completely baffled.