Deep underground in XianGuang Research Institute's ultra‑clean laboratory, time seemed stretched into a viscous‑textured entity; each passing second was accompanied by the heavy throb of the heart and the low, constant hum of instruments. The air was no longer a simple mixture of gases; it was saturated with scorching anticipation, suppressed breathing, and the minute vibrations—almost beyond the limit of human hearing—emitted by those hundreds of micro **piezoelectric‑ceramic actuators** operating at high frequency. These vibrations were not noise; they were the life‑pulse‑like sounds of the system that was saving this ultimate test—the silent, intense "dance of the mirror" being performed by the "Nuwa" system at the **nanoscale**.
Xiuxiu still stood before the main console, like a captain's statue nailed to the deck, facing the microscopic storm she herself had created yet nearly lost control of. More than 60 consecutive hours without sleep had drained her physical strength to its physiological limit. Her eyelids felt like lead; every blink required immense willpower. The arm braced against the console edge trembled slightly—not from fear, but from muscles protesting after maintaining a fixed posture for too long. Her brain, starved of oxygen and over‑stimulated by caffeine, experienced waves of dizziness like tides constantly battering her consciousness dike. Only the eyes behind the goggles, fixed fiercely on the main screen, still burned with a nearly fanatical, un‑extinguishable flame.
On the screen, that crucial wavefront‑aberration curve representing EUV output beam quality—after the violent struggle and slow retreat during the initial intervention of the "Nuwa" system—had maintained an incredible **stable** run for over **24 hours**, right beneath the green zone marking the acceptable range.
This stability was not a straight line without fluctuation—impossible in the real physical world. It more resembled a tamed, smooth curve vibrating with extremely tiny amplitude around the ideal value, its fluctuation range strictly suppressed within the threshold tolerable by the High NA optical system. This subtle vibration precisely proved that the "Nuwa" system was working effectively—it monitored in real time the mirror‑surface deformation caused by residual thermal load and other tiny disturbances in the system, and through those hundreds of piezoelectric‑ceramic actuators applied nanoscale‑precise, dynamic push‑and‑pull forces, like a top‑level massage therapist with countless nimble fingers, constantly micro‑adjusting a muscle under continuous tension that could spasm again at any moment, keeping it in optimal functional state.
This was a silent ballet. The dancer was that **source collector mirror** bearing extreme thermal load; the choreographer and conductor were Xiuxiu and her team's "Nuwa" system and real‑time control algorithms, into which they had poured their hearts. The stage was the absolute void inside the vacuum chamber; the audience were every person in the control room holding their breath, their heartbeats almost synchronized with that steady curve.
During those long 24 hours, challenges never ceased. Once, a tiny grid‑voltage fluctuation caused a momentary jitter in laser power, leading to sudden thermal‑load change and abrupt mirror‑deformation trend. Almost the instant the wavefront‑aberration curve began to rise, the "Nuwa" system—based on preset complex models and real‑time feedback—executed an adjustment thousands of times faster than human reaction, applying a reverse compensation force, nipping that crisis in the bud. Several other times, minute changes in local thermal environment caused by unavoidable, extremely tiny gas adsorption‑desorption processes inside the vacuum chamber were likewise keenly captured and successfully compensated by the system.
Every tiny fluctuation and successful calm‑down stretched Xiuxiu's nerves to the limit, and also served as the strongest proof of the "Nuwa" system's effectiveness. The team members' faces gradually regained some color from the initial pallor of despair; their eyes gradually accumulated confidence again. Yet no one dared relax in the slightest; everyone knew the final verdict had not yet arrived.
Finally, when the clock reached the 25th hour of full‑power stable operation, an independent screen connected to the wafer‑inspection analysis system emitted a completion tone. This meant the first batch of test patterns used for final verification had completed the entire process within the High NA EUV lithography system—from mask imaging, projection through the complex optical system, exposure onto photoresist‑coated silicon wafers, to subsequent development processing.
Everyone's gaze instantly switched from the stable curve on the main screen to this fate‑deciding screen.
The engineer in charge of inspection, hands slightly trembling, operated the remote electron microscope and pattern‑analysis software. High‑magnification scanning‑electron‑microscope images appeared on the screen, frame by frame, with increasing clarity.
Dead silence. Only the roar of blood rushing to the head remained in the control room.
The images displayed not blurred halos, not distorted lines, nor disappointing breaks and gaps.
They were… incredibly clear, sharp, steep‑edged, well‑defined corners, evenly spaced… **test patterns**!
The line widths far exceeded the limits achievable by any previous generation of lithography technology. Quick dimensional measurement and line‑edge‑roughness analysis via software popped data rapidly in the adjacent work window. All key parameters, without exception, pointed to a conclusion that would shake the global semiconductor industry—the resolution achieved by this High NA EUV lithography system had steadily stepped into the threshold supporting **below‑2nm** process technology! Moreover, the pattern fidelity and process window demonstrated hinted at enormous potential for pushing toward even more advanced nodes!
Success.
Not the success of a single component, not of a subsystem, but of the entire High NA EUV lithography prototype—as a complete, complex system integrating countless top‑tier technologies in light source, optics, mechanics, control, metrology, and computational lithography—achieving historic, milestone **R&D success**!
There was no anticipated cheering, no excited shouting, no champagne‑cork‑popping sounds.
The control room fell into a near‑vacuum silence after extreme astonishment.
Team members looked at each other, seemingly unable to believe the data and images their eyes were seeing. Several young researchers opened their mouths wide but couldn't utter any sound; only tears welled up unexpectedly, sliding down young faces. Older engineers reddened their eye‑rims, covering their mouths firmly, shoulders slightly trembling with suppressed emotion. Ten years of technological Long March, countless days and nights of fighting, countless failures endured, enormous capital invested—now, finally transformed into those crystal‑clear geometric shapes on the screen representing the world's most advanced manufacturing level.
Then, everyone's gaze, as if by agreement, turned toward the figure standing at the forefront.
Xiuxiu.
She didn't look at the success‑confirming inspection screen. Her eyes remained on the main screen, on that beautiful curve representing 24 hours of stable operation, as if wanting to imprint this hard‑won moment of peace deeply into her soul.
Then, under everyone's watch, her body—taut as a bowstring until now—seemed instantly drained of all strength. Without any dramatic movement, she just very slowly, very slowly, slid down along the console edge onto the cold, dust‑free floor.
She curled there, like a child exhausted to the extreme. The heavy cleanroom suit enveloped her, making her appear somewhat clumsy and fragile.
She made no sound, just pressed her forehead against the cold metal console base, shoulders beginning to shudder uncontrollably, slightly.
Tears, silently, torrentially, fell.
These were not tears of sorrow, nor of wild joy. This was an extremely complex emotional release—the immense **relief** of a ten‑year burden finally lifted; the **grievance** after countless struggles on the brink of failure‑abyss finally touching light; the **catharsis** where all pressure, anxiety, loneliness, and perseverance mixed together finally found an outlet. These tears flowed for herself, for the comrades behind her who fought alongside, for those countless days and nights in the lab that dimmed then brightened again.
She didn't need cheering, no celebration. Right now, these silent tears were her most solemn, most profound tribute to this ten‑year technological Long March.
Just at this moment of silence and tears interwoven, her personal communicator emitted a specific encrypted‑call vibration different from system alarms. This frequency belonged only to a very few individuals.
Xiuxiu didn't answer immediately. She took a deep breath, forcefully wiped away tears and sweat from her face, regulated her breathing, then with still‑trembling fingers pressed the answer button.
Mozi's holographic projection appeared before her, background seemingly still his trading room at the eye of the financial storm. His face looked even more haggard than a few days ago, shadows under his eyes thick and un‑dissolvable, brow carrying lingering exhaustion and battlefield chill. Clearly, he was in the midst of another equally brutal war.
Yet when his gaze passed through the projection, seeing Xiuxiu sitting on the floor, tear‑stains not yet dried, but eyes unusually bright—the sternness on his face instantly melted, revealing an exceedingly rare, heartfelt, relieved, and warm smile.
He didn't even ask the result. From Xiuxiu's eyes and state, he had already understood everything.
"Xiuxiu," his voice came through the speaker, carrying a trace of hoarseness after prolonged battle, yet exceptionally steady and firm, "congratulations."
No extra words, no exaggerated praise. Just these two simple words, and a knowing, warm smile.
Xiuxiu looked at the man in the projection—who had shielded her from countless open and hidden attacks on the capital battlefield, provided unlimited support—seeing the congratulation delivered the moment he received it, even while bearing immense pressure himself. The tears she had just stemmed almost burst again.
She inhaled forcefully through her nose, trying to squeeze out a smile, but it looked worse than crying.
"Boss…" her voice thick with nasal sound, yet carrying a proud, triumphant relief of mission‑accomplished, "we… nailed it."
"I know." Mozi nodded, his gaze filled with trust and affirmation. "I've always known."
Brief silence. Two commanders in different battlefields, both having undergone ultimate tests, communicated wordlessly across the virtual projection. In that exchange lay unspoken understanding, mutual‑weathering‑storms‑afterwards rapport, and unreserved trust and support for each other.
"Your side…" Xiuxiu couldn't help asking.
"Still ongoing." Mozi's reply was concise, forceful; his eyes turned sharp again. "Don't worry. Guard your achievement well."
"Understood!" Xiuxiu nodded firmly.
Ending the call, Xiuxiu leaned on the console, slowly stood up. Tears were wiped away; though her body remained utterly exhausted, an unprecedented strength was rising from deep within.
She turned, facing her team, looking at those excited, tired yet immensely proud faces.
She cleared her throat; her voice still hoarse, yet carrying a historic‑proclamation‑like solemnity:
"Everyone, I declare: **The High NA EUV lithography prototype has achieved complete success in its first full‑power stability test and pattern verification!**"
This time, silence shattered.
Emotions held too long erupted like a volcano! The control room erupted into deafening cheers mingled with sobs and shouts! People hugged each other, slapped each other's backs hard; some even jumped, throwing record‑boards into the air!
Xiuxiu watched this boiling scene; her face finally broke into a truly radiant, exhausted smile.
She again turned her gaze toward the deep observation window. Inside, the massive prototype continued running quietly; beneath the mirror surface, that nanoscale‑precise dance still went on.
The light‑sword had been forged. The next‑era chip legend would begin its etching here. And she and her team, with ten years of youth and sweat, had become the authors of this legend's opening chapter.