readsfreenovel Chapter 481 The Dawn of Photolithography Machines
Chapter 481 The Dawn of Photolithography Machines
Changchun, Institute of Optics, Fine Mechanics and Physics.
The snow in the park was much thicker than in Jinan, and it crunched underfoot. Icicles hung from the pine trees on both sides of the road, shimmering in the morning sunlight.
Ni Guangnan stood at the entrance of the main building waiting for Ling Yun, wearing a faded blue cotton-padded jacket with frayed edges on the cuffs, and his breath scattered in the cold wind.
"The road is slippery, be careful." Ni Guangnan led the way, pushing open an inconspicuous iron door at the back of the main building. Inside was a long corridor, with progress charts for the lithography machine project hanging on the walls on both sides. Some of the papers were taped back together repeatedly, and the edges were curled up. At the end of the corridor was a glass door that required a key card to access, and behind the door came the low hum of machinery.
Ni Guangnan swiped his card, and the glass door slid open. A sudden burst of noise erupted—not the roar of the workshop, but a continuous, low hum, as if something enormous was slowly turning deep underground.
Ling Yun followed Ni Guangnan into the assembly workshop. The workshop was very tall, at least four stories high, with a huge machine standing in the center, around which workers in cleanroom suits were busy.
Several engineering drawings were pasted on the machine's casing, with a blue background, white lines, and dense markings of various dimensions.
"We spent three years building this machine." Ni Guangnan stood next to Lingyun, looking up at it. "The optical system, precision mechanics, control system, and computational lithography software—all four major subsystems were designed independently."
He paused, "Although it's not perfect yet. The resolution is only 90 nanometers. ASML has already achieved 65 nanometers, or even more advanced." He turned to look at Ling Yun, "but it has one major advantage: no one can hold us back."
Ling Yun didn't speak. He looked at the machine in front of him—its casing didn't have the smooth industrial aesthetics of ASML, and some solder joints even showed traces of hand polishing, but it stood there, casting a huge shadow under the workshop's overhead lights.
Ni Guangnan took a few steps to the side and beckoned someone over. An elderly expert with completely white hair stood up from behind the testing console, took off his gloves, and came over to shake Ling Yun's hand. His hand was rough, with calluses on his knuckles, but his grip was very strong.
"General Manager Ling, I've dedicated my entire life to optics, I've been here since the day the Changchun Institute of Optics, Fine Mechanics and Physics was founded." The old expert's voice was a little hoarse, and he spoke with a heavy Northeastern accent. "Back then, we manufactured lenses to make parts for foreign lithography machines. They could stop or change their products whenever they wanted. One year, a batch of lenses was already packed in boxes, and then they called and said they didn't want them anymore—because a few Russian experts had come to our lab. What does this have to do with lenses? Nothing. But they just didn't want them."
He released his grip and pointed to the machine behind him. "Today, we have finally built our own lithography machine. It was worth dying for."
Ling Yun looked at him and said, "You can't die. You still have to watch this machine produce the first batch of wafers, watch it get onto the production line, and watch it make high-end chips made by the Chinese themselves."
The old expert paused for a moment, then laughed. His eyes narrowed as he laughed, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkling into a deep frown. "Alright, then I'll live a few more years."
It was evening at a small tavern in Changchun. The place wasn't big; faded menus hung on the walls, and beer brand logos were printed on the plastic tablecloths. Ni Guangnan ordered two dishes and a bottle of baijiu (Chinese liquor) from the owner. Ling Yun filled both their glasses, and Ni Guangnan took a sip, then put down his glass, becoming more talkative than usual.
"Lingyun, do you know? The thing I regret most in my life isn't being fired by Yixiang, or having my research funding cut—" He picked up his glass and took another sip, the liquor swirling in the glass, "It's that in the 1990s, the country had the opportunity to build its own chip industry chain. Back then, we had a group of experts who had returned from the Soviet Union, ready-made technical solutions, and the foundation for production lines. But we missed it. If we had invested like we do now back then—" He put the glass on the table, a little liquor spilling out, "maybe things would be different today."
Ling Yun refilled his glass. "Mr. Ni, the past cannot be changed. But what we are doing will ensure that future generations will not have such regrets."
Ni Guangnan didn't reply. He picked up his glass and looked at it for a while in the dim light above him; the liquor rippled slightly in the light. The night in Changchun outside the window was cold, and the snow on the roadside was illuminated by car headlights.
"Liang Mengsong called me a few days ago and said that the 0.13-micron process in Singapore has been successfully piloted with a yield of 88%. He said the next step is to move some of the process back to Shenzhen so that domestically produced chips can truly run on domestic production lines. His voice—I've known him for so many years, and this is the first time I've heard such a steady feeling in his voice. He used to be very anxious, speaking rapidly, but this time he was very slow. He said, 'Professor Ni, we don't need to be at the mercy of others anymore.'"
Ling Yun didn't speak. The radiator in the tavern clicked.
"Ling Yun," Ni Guangnan put down his cup, looking into Ling Yun's eyes, "tell me the truth. You've invested in lithography machines, chips, operating systems—these things might not even break even in ten or twenty years. How old are you this year? You've poured all your money into these things, what are you trying to achieve?"
Ling Yun put down his chopsticks. "Old Ni, you asked me this question before."
"I asked that. But I'd like to hear you say it again."
Ling Yun picked up his wine glass but didn't drink. He looked through the glass at the faded New Year's painting of a Siberian tiger on the opposite wall. The tiger in the painting stood in the snow, its eyes fierce.
"In 1996, I saw hundreds of laid-off workers fighting tooth and nail for a cleaning job outside an electronics factory. At that time, I thought, could we allow more people to work with dignity and live with respect? Later, when we were held hostage in the United States, I thought, could we prevent others from holding us hostage?" He put his wine glass on the table. "These thoughts combined have led to what I am doing now."
Ni Guangnan picked up his wine glass and downed the remaining half in one gulp.