“Hold the screwdriver steady, boy!” Mr. Chen’s weathered voice echoed through the dimly lit workshop. Seventeen-year-old Li Wei’s hands trembled as he attempted to repair the intricate pocket watch mechanism before him.
“I’m trying, Master Chen,” Wei replied, sweat beading on his forehead. The precision screwdriver felt impossibly heavy in his young hands.
The workshop, a cramped space in the heart of the industrial district, was Wei’s whole world now. Three years had passed since his parents sent him to apprentice under the renowned watchmaker - their desperate attempt to secure their son a “respectable trade” in an increasingly automated world.
“In my day,” Mr. Chen continued, adjusting his thick glasses, “young men learned patience. Now everyone wants instant success, instant gratification.” He peered over Wei’s shoulder. “Too loose! The gear will slip.”
Wei bit back a retort. His friends were attending university, pursuing dreams of tech startups and corporate careers. Meanwhile, he spent his days hunched over ancient timepieces, breathing in metal dust.
“Master Chen,” Wei ventured carefully, “perhaps if we invested in some modern equipment-”
“Modernization!” The old man spat the word like a curse. “That’s what’s killing craftsmanship. Every year, another workshop closes, replaced by mass production. Soon there will be no one left who understands the soul of a proper timepiece.”
Wei remained silent, focusing on the delicate components before him. The watch belonged to a wealthy businessman - probably cost more than Wei’s annual wages. Yet here it was, its expensive Swiss movement requiring the same careful attention as any other.
“You know why I took you as an apprentice?” Mr. Chen asked suddenly.
Wei looked up, surprised by the gentle tone. “Because my father asked you to?”
“Because I saw something in your eyes. The same look I had at your age - trapped between two worlds, old and new.” He placed a gnarled hand on Wei’s shoulder. “But time, boy, time teaches us all eventually.”
The elderly craftsman shuffled to his workbench, returning with a small wooden box. Inside lay a perfectly preserved pocket watch, its golden case gleaming.
“My first masterpiece,” he said softly. “Made it when I was exactly your age. Now it’s yours.”
Wei carefully lifted the watch, noting its perfect weight, the precise click of its crown. “Master, I can’t-”
“Everyone must learn to balance tradition and progress, past and future. That’s the true art of time.”
Years later, in a workshop of his own, Wei would hear his voice echo those same words to another young apprentice. The precision screwdriver in his hands was modern now, calibrated to exact specifications, but the principles remained unchanged. And on his bench sat a golden pocket watch, still keeping perfect time, marking the endless cycle of masters and students, of time passing yet somehow standing still.
As he guided his apprentice’s hands, Wei smiled, understanding at last what Mr. Chen had tried to teach him about the precision of moments, the craftsmanship of time itself.