The light and shadow in the dismantling shed were blurry, and dust floated and drifted in the beam of light, like falling snowflakes. Lao Yu was crouching among a pile of discarded photovoltaic panels. His hands were dark, and his knuckles turned unnaturally white as he forcefully pried open the aluminum alloy frames. Sweat trickled down his deep-set brows, forming a winding watermark. The photovoltaic panel aluminum frames in front of him were still firmly attached like silent seals, but he could only fight against the invisible adhesive tenacity inch by inch with brute force—the peak of photovoltaic power station decommissioning has arrived, and countless aluminum frames are being painstakingly recycled in the stream of time with their exhausted flesh and blood... Fortunately, the sword of wisdom finally broke through the dilemma. Parked beside, it was like a giant awaiting awakening. It was silent but dignified: the fuselage frame was robust and stable, and the core area housed a sophisticated blade array. On the sides, there extended a gentle yet resilient traction mechanism, all covered in a deep gray matte finish. The moment the switch was turned on, the machine seemed to come to life, filling the entire shed with a low, powerful humming sound. The prelude to the operation played silently: the huge fixed arm quietly descended, gently and accurately fixing the panels like a mountain's silent and reliable shoulder. The preheating system started up, and energy concentrated at the end of the blade: the sharp blade rotated downward, cautiously searching for the most delicate balance point between the frame and the glass. It precisely cut through the hot-melt adhesive layer, like a meticulous craftsman gently unfolding a long-forgotten scroll, maintaining a millimeter-precise "distance" between the blade and the adhesive layer—its temperature control system strictly ensured that critical parts did not exceed the safe line of 36.8°C. The aluminum frames finally began to loosen, like a fortress finally convinced to surrender. At this moment, the transmission mechanism started up, with its metal-like patient strength slowly pulling out the separated aluminum frames. The glass substrates stripped of their metal shells then slid down, pure as fresh snow, neatly stacked and heading toward a new journey, while the aluminum materials were pushed to the other end, piling up with metallic clattering sounds. The dust in the shed was still silently dancing, but Lao Yu gazed at the silver "waves" of aluminum piles, and the heavy lead in his brows had finally been lifted. Behind each cold separation, the complete return of aluminum materials was reassembling the life of resource circulation. The cold power of steel was playing a variation of the cycle: in the future, there will be more light, born from the once-confined frames of darkness—efficient dismantling is no longer a heavy farewell to yesterday, but a firm arm lifting up tomorrow's rebirth.