Chapter 21 — The entire department's salary is 39,000 yuan, just me 5,800 yuan

I continued to ask.

“... More than three times.”

“Before collapsing, how long did our system operate reliably under extremely high loads?”

“... Seven hours.”

I nodded slightly. Then walked next to Lam Phong. Gently pat him on the back.

“This is not a failure.”

My voice clearly reached everyone's ears.

“This is just minor labor pain.”

“But a great work must go through before being born.”

“We have proven a point.”

“Our direction is right.”

“Our architecture is strong enough.”

“We are just one final step away from success.”

Those words. Like cool water. Flowing into the dry land in everyone's hearts. Small noises began to appear in the office. Everyone raised their heads. Look at the leader standing under the light. My figure is somewhat skinny. But the spine is still straight.

“But... but it's too late.”

Lam Phong raised his red eyes. Hoarse voice.

“The error lies at the deepest foundation.”

“Want to fix it.”

“It's like having to have surgery on the entire heart of the machine.”

“Two days…”

“Absolutely impossible.”

“Two days is really impossible.”

My answer caused the glimmer of hope that had just rekindled in everyone's hearts to sink again. I changed my voice. An almost crazy light flashed in his eyes.

“Forty-eight hours maybe.”

I walked quickly to the whiteboard. The sealed board contained the formula and source code. Take the towel. Erase everything.

“Listen to orders.”

My voice was as decisive as a knife blade.

“From now on.”

“We don't sleep anymore.”

“I lead Group A.”

“Immediately review all architectural design documents.”

“Within two hours.”

“I want a list of all modules that could potentially conflict with the memory dispatcher system.”

“Lam Phong.”

“I lead Group B.”

“Synthesize all system logs before the crash.”

“Do not miss even one byte of data.”

“Three more hours.”

“I want to see the complete system behavior report.”

“Precise to the nanosecond level.”

“Stop all external defense work.”

“Put all your computing power on.”

“Build me an environment that recreates the purest and most minimalist system.”

The atmosphere in the office. Gradually change. Because everyone realizes it. The only person who has never despaired. It's always been me.

“The rest of you, go collect all the coffee in the company and bring it here for me.”

I spoke extremely fast, continuously giving each command clearly and precisely. My eyes were like a supercomputer operating at full capacity, instantly decomposing this seemingly impossible problem into countless specific tasks that could be performed. Everyone was swept away by the strangely strong and calm aura that was exploding from me. Despair and confusion were quickly swept away. Instead, it is determined to win all or nothing. No one hesitated anymore. No one complains anymore. Everyone immediately took action. The whole office was like a dormant volcano that suddenly erupted violently. The sound of typing on the keyboard sounded thick like rain. Fierce debates filled every corner of the room. And I stand in the middle of the storm. The brain operates at unprecedented speed. Error log. Architectural diagram. Source code modules. All inter kept appearing, recombining and colliding in my head. I'm looking. Find the devil lurking among billions of lines of code and data streams. Time passes minute by second. Twenty-four hours later. We successfully recreated that fatal system crash in a minimalist simulation environment. Thirty-six hours later. From the mountain of data piled high, I finally found the first source of the avalanche effect. It wasn't a simple mistake. Which is an extremely rare time competition problem. It only appears in extremely high pressure environments. It's a small conflict between the operating system kernel and our self-developed memory allocation algorithm. This error lurks like a ghost. Ninety-nine point nine percent of programmers in the world probably won't meet one in their lifetime. But we crashed again. The moment of finding the cause. The team fell into deeper silence. Because everyone understands. Solving this problem is almost impossible. That means having to directly edit the lowest-level source code of the operating system. That is the forbidden area within the forbidden area. Something any programmer knows. Just when everyone thought that this time it really was the end. I stared at the source of the problem. A smile slowly appeared on his lips. A smile full of confidence. Even brought a little excitement.

"I got it."

I said softly. Then step over to the whiteboard. Pick up your pen. I do not choose to fix the operating system kernel. I corrected our algorithm. Each line of code appears on the board. These are pieces of code so strange that no one can understand them. I take advantage of an extremely ancient CPU instruction.