The One Who Can't Be Beaten Is Xiaoqiang, the One Who Can't Be Poked Is Daqiang

Da Qiang, an eighth-level lathe whose name carries the weight of the times like a brand. The glory he once had has been crushed to dust by the "credit blacklist" and the bottomless pit of his mother's uremia. He huddled in the most rotten corner of the city, drinking rusty tap water and swallowing cold and hard steamed buns with no dignity. The bloody and bloody ring marks of his old friend Zhao Zhigang, the despair ink stains on his mother's dialysis swab... Countless sufferings were like rusty chains that nailed him to the bottom of the abyss. The gears of fate are turning quietly in the depths of despair. The national policy of "returning to poverty due to illness" is like a glimmer of light in a crack, and the "Silver Age Craftsman" plan injects warmth into his rusted bones. The warmth of mutual help in the community, the clean water handed over by his granddaughter, the roar of the old machine tools when he returned to the workshop... These small tremors made the "old diesel engine" in his body, which was on the verge of being scrapped, begin to make a stagnant but extremely real turning sound under the welding light of the times.