221: Chapter 221 Where Do Ordinary People Go?

At this moment, orders began to arrive faster than anyone had anticipated.

Before the summit had even concluded, the backend of the joint-holding chip company here in China had already received its first batch of informal letters of intent.

First came Xiaomi.

Then Huawei.

Following them were several other domestic terminal brands that had previously been sitting on the sidelines.

In the past, these names were all what one might call "friendly competitors."

In some markets, they had even fought until they were bruised and battered.

But when it came to chips, everyone understood that while they might compete and fight, their lifeline still had to be held in their own hands.

Orders of support poured in like snowflakes.

Su Qingxue stood in the outer corridor of the venue and handed the latest summarized order sheet to Lu Li. Her voice was kept very low, yet it couldn't hide a touch of excitement.

"They used to be friendly competitors."

"Now, they have started to place their lifeline in the hands of their own people."

Lu Li glanced at it, his expression calm.

"Normal."

"No one wants to have their throat choked again."

Su Qingxue looked at him, suddenly feeling a bit dazed.

In the past, when Chinese enterprises came to such occasions, they were thinking about fighting for a seat at the table.

Now, Guanghui Technology and this state-joint-holding chip company stood here, and what they were thinking about was—how to accept orders, how to quote prices, and how to schedule production.

The difference between these two states was not just technology. It was position.

As the conference neared its end, some foreign media seized the opportunity to corner Lu Li during a break.

"Mr. Lu, do you believe today is the key turning point for the independence of China's semiconductor industry?"

The translator whispered the question to him.

Lu Li stood before the massive glass curtain wall, the bright skyline of Shanghai behind him, his expression as nonchalant as always.

He glanced at the reporter who asked the question, his tone indifferent.

"A turning point?"

He paused for a moment before switching back to Chinese.

"This is just the first step."

The reporter was clearly stunned.

Lu Li raised his eyes.

"It is not the last step."

Five nanometers is not the finish line.

The Lithography Machine is not the finish line.

Chip autonomy is not the finish line either.

He said these words lightly.

But to others, they sounded heavier than any grand declaration.

Because he wasn't shouting slogans. He was stating facts.

After the meeting, global media outlets published headlines almost simultaneously.

[China publicly demonstrates autonomous five-nanometer Lithography Machine and chip performance tests]

[Global chip landscape faces major variable]

[They are no longer just chasers]

Domestically, the atmosphere was completely boiling over.

From tech media to financial news, from short video platforms to portal site hot searches, everything was flooded with the same term—five nanometers.

Many people watched the replays while repeatedly confirming, fearing they had misread it.

"They really brought it out."

"It's not a concept, it's not Photoshop, they really brought it out."

"China has really stood up this time."

"This isn't just breaking through at one point; they've even built the table themselves."

But just as this sentiment was pushed to its peak, another voice began to grow louder.

It wasn't questioning the five nanometers. It was questioning—where exactly is the future taking ordinary people?

On the plane back home, as soon as Su Qingxue opened her tablet, her expression sank bit by bit.

Lu Li leaned back in his seat, not even opening his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"The internet is even more explosive."

She turned the screen toward him. It wasn't praise. Instead, the outcry was even louder than before.

And this time, it was no longer just a discussion within tech circles and media circles. The issue of Robots replacing jobs had truly broken out of the tech discourse and spread to society as a whole.

Some people uploaded videos of factory layoffs. Some filmed their empty workshops. Others sat in idle trucks smoking, telling the camera that they were over forty and didn't know what else they could learn.

The stronger Guanghui Technology became, the louder these voices grew.

It was as if the blade of the future had finally begun to cut into the flesh of ordinary people, bit by bit.

Lu Li opened his eyes, his gaze falling on those comments, his expression dimming slightly.

The real trouble was never those trolls jumping up and down. It was that it truly hurt.

Three days after the summit ended, the internet was in a complete frenzy.

Previously, those voices about "Robots stealing jobs," in the end, mostly remained at the level of vague anxiety.

Everyone was worried. Everyone was afraid. But when it actually landed on their own heads, many people didn't have such a strong, tangible sense of it.

But now, it was different. The tangible reality had arrived.

Factories were starting to purchase Robots in large quantities. Logistics parks were starting to upgrade their scheduling systems.

Warehousing, sorting, cleaning, guiding, patrolling, delivery, shuttling, driving... more and more jobs that were originally considered to be "closest to ordinary people" were starting to be replaced by machines step by step.

Of course, new jobs were indeed created. Operations and maintenance. Scheduling. Human-Robot collaboration management. System maintenance. Data labeling. Virtual content services.

But the problem was—not everyone could transition to these jobs.

A person over forty, you want them to learn system maintenance? Someone who has worked as a cleaner or driver for over a decade, you want them to do virtual content operations?

With elderly parents above and children below, mortgages, tuition fees, medical expenses, and daily life—everything was weighing on their shoulders. Who had the time, who had the energy, and who had the foundation for that?

So this time, the outcry online was not empty. It was born from genuine pain.

Short video platforms, forums, comment sections—everywhere was arguing.

"I'm over forty, you want me to learn a new job? Can I even learn it?"

"I used to drive, deliver goods, and clean, but now machines have taken over everything, what am I supposed to do?"

"You talk about transformation, you say it so easily, but who will support my family?"

"Technological progress is progress, but why are ordinary people the first to feel the pain?"

Lu Li sat in his office, finishing those videos one by one, with no expression on his face. Chen Shuyu was beside him, already on the verge of exploding with anger.

"No, are they sick?"

"Everything you've done is clearly intended to make the world a better place, how did it end up becoming a reason to curse you?"

She grew angrier as she spoke, nearly slamming her phone onto the table.

"It's one thing for those people abroad to stir up trouble, but now a bunch of people domestically are joining in to curse, what the hell!"

Su Qingxue sat nearby, flipping through another page of public opinion analysis. She was silent for a long time before speaking in a low voice:

"This time, they aren't targeting Lu Li as a person."

Chen Shuyu was stunned. Su Qingxue raised her eyes, her tone very steady.

"They are crying out for themselves."

"Crying out for those jobs that are about to be squeezed out, for those people who don't have time to learn new things, and for those who still have elderly parents and children at home and simply cannot afford to stop."

The office suddenly fell silent. Chen Shuyu opened her mouth, but suddenly found she couldn't refute it. Because she knew Su Qingxue was right.

This was no longer a simple war of public opinion. Nor was it as simple as foreign entities throwing money to stir up trouble.

The real trouble was—those curses had started to be mixed with too much real grievance and panic.

It wasn't that anyone was born to be against technology. It was that many people suddenly realized that when the era rushes forward, they might just be the first batch to be thrown off the train.