Tech Giants: Starting from Bankrupt Companies

168: Chapter 168 The ”Dawn” of PhotoresistJanuary 18th, 2:17 PM, Huizhou, Spark Materials Industrial Park.

This is one of the highest security areas within the xinghuo system—the Photoresist R&D Center. The exterior of the building looks ordinary, but the walls are 30-centimeter-thick concrete reinforced with lead plates, and the electromagnetic shielding level reaches military standards. Entry requires passing through three security checkpoints: fingerprint, iris, and DNA saliva testing.

Chen Wei stood in front of the observation window of the cleanroom, wearing a Class 10 cleanroom suit, with only her eyes exposed. At 38, she is the head of this project, a Ph.D. in Chemistry from the Chinese Academy of Sciences, and a student of the late Academician Zhang, a titan of semiconductor materials. At this moment, her eyes were fixed on the critical experiment taking place inside.

Inside the laboratory, the 37th batch of KrF photoresist was being coated onto a 300mm silicon wafer. The robotic arm’s movements were precise to the micron level, and the colloid spread out at a uniform speed, with the thickness controlled within the range of 200 nanometers ± 1 nanometer.

”Vacuum level stable.”

”Temperature 23.5°C, humidity 35%.”

”Coating complete, entering soft bake stage.”

The operator’s report came through the walkie-talkie. Chen Wei’s palms were sweating; she could feel the dampness even while wearing gloves.

This was the 37th attempt in two years. In the previous 36 attempts, some failed due to excessive metal impurities, some due to too many particles, and others because the line edges were rough after development... Every failure meant the burning of millions in R&D funds and another month of staying up late for the team.

Photoresist, this chemical that sounds ordinary, is the ”blood” of modern semiconductor manufacturing. Its performance directly determines the line width, yield, and reliability of the chip. The global market is monopolized by the Japanese ”Big Three”—JSR, Tokyo Ohka Kogyo (TOK), and Shin-Etsu Chemical—who hold over 85% of the market share. Chinese enterprises import over 2 billion USD worth of photoresist annually, but for the most advanced ArF and EUV grades, the Japanese say they won’t sell, and they cut off supply just like that.

”Soft bake complete, entering exposure.”

The silicon wafer was sent into the UV exposure machine. The KrF laser (wavelength 248 nanometers) passed through the photomask, carving the designed pattern onto the photoresist. This process is like photography, only the precision is at the nanometer level.

The exposed wafer entered the developer solution. Chen Wei held her breath.

Through the transparent window of the development tank, she could see the colloid slowly dissolving in the chemical liquid, with the unexposed parts remaining to form fine line patterns.

”Development complete, ready for inspection.”

The silicon wafer was taken out and sent to the adjacent inspection room. The lens of the Scanning Electron Microscope (SEM) slowly descended.

The display screen next to the observation window lit up. Zoom in, zoom in again.

1000x, 10000x, 100000x...

The lines appeared.

Straight, smooth-edged, uniform-width lines were neatly arranged on the surface of the silicon wafer. The measurement data was displayed in real-time next to it:

Line width: 16.2 nm

Line Edge Roughness (LER): 1.8 nm

Defect density: 0.08 / cm²

Critical Dimension Uniformity (CDU): ± 0.5 nm

Chen Wei’s breathing stopped.

These data... all reached or even exceeded the level of similar products from Japan’s JSR. Especially the defect density, 0.08 / cm², which meant less than 0.1 defects per square centimeter, a standard already for large-scale mass production.

”Dr. Chen...” the young engineer next to her said with a trembling voice, ”Did we... did we succeed?”

Chen Wei did not answer. She took off her goggles—this was a violation of cleanroom regulations, but she couldn’t care less at this moment—rubbed her eyes, and looked at the screen again.

The data hadn’t changed.

16.2 nm line width, 0.08 defect density.

She suddenly turned around, walked quickly out of the observation area, and arrived at the changing room next door. Taking off her cleanroom suit, she rushed to the sink, turned on the faucet, and splashed her face with cold water over and over again.

Water droplets slid down her cheeks; it was impossible to tell if it was tap water or tears.

Two years.

She remembered the words of her mentor, Academician Zhang, before he passed away: ”Little Chen, if we don’t pass this hurdle of photoresist, Chinese chips will always be at the mercy of others. The work I didn’t finish in my lifetime, you must continue.”

She remembered going to Japan’s JSR three years ago for an exchange, and that Japanese manager said arrogantly: ”Dr. Chen, photoresist cannot be made in a laboratory. It requires thirty years of process accumulation, it requires a global supply chain, it requires... things that you in China do not have.”

She remembered those young people on her team, after failure upon failure, staying up late in the lab analyzing data, their eyes bloodshot but refusing to give up.

Now, they had done it.

”Dr. Chen!” Project Deputy Director Engineer Wang rushed in, holding the just-printed complete inspection report, ”All parameters meet the standards! Thermal stability test, etch resistance test, storage stability test... all passed!”

Chen Wei took the report, her fingers trembling.

She walked to the window in the corner of the laboratory—there was a small altar there, with a photo of her and Academician Zhang, and a bouquet of plastic flowers that would never wither.

Chen Wei bowed deeply three times to the photo.

”Teacher, we did it,” her voice choked, ”The 37th batch, the golden batch. Can you see it from heaven?”

In the photo, Academician Zhang had a gentle smile and kind eyes.

At the same time, Shenzhen, Spark Materials Headquarters Public Relations Department.

Director Yang Jing stared at the short announcement on the computer screen, hesitating whether to click ”Publish.”

The announcement was only about three hundred words:

”Announcement Regarding Progress in Photoresist Material R&D”

”Our company has made significant progress in the field of key semiconductor materials. The self-developed KrF photoresist (suitable for 28-16 nm processes) has completed laboratory verification, with key performance indicators reaching international advanced levels, and small-batch trial production has been achieved.”

”This product’s line width resolution reaches 16nm, defect density is lower than 0.1 / cm², and indicators such as thermal stability and etch resistance meet semiconductor manufacturing requirements. Currently, this product has passed internal production line verification and can be used in the manufacturing of logic chips, memory chips, etc.”

”At the same time, ArF photoresist (suitable for 14-7 nm processes) R&D is progressing smoothly and has entered the pilot stage.”

”Xinghuo will continue to invest in semiconductor material R&D, committed to building an autonomous and controllable industrial chain.”

No flowery language, no exaggerated expressions, just like a routine technical progress report.

”Director Yang, should I post it?” the assistant asked, ”It’s 3 PM in Japan, the stock market hasn’t closed yet.”

Yang Jing looked at her watch—exactly 4 PM. The Chinese stock market had already closed, but the stock markets in Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan were still trading.

”Post it.” She clicked the mouse.

At 4:01 PM, the announcement appeared in the ”Company News” column of the Spark Materials official website, with no push notification, no pinning, just like an ordinary update.

At 4:03 PM, the first to notice was Kenichi Tanaka, an analyst at Nomura Securities in Japan. He was writing this week’s semiconductor materials industry report and, while routinely refreshing the websites of Chinese companies, saw this announcement.

”Nani? (What?)” Tanaka was stunned, quickly using Google to translate the full text.

At 4:05 PM, Tanaka grabbed the phone and shouted in Japanese to the traders at the Tokyo headquarters: ”Spark Materials! Photoresist breakthrough! Short JSR, TOK, and Shin-Etsu immediately!”

At 4:07 PM, Nomura Securities’ emergency analysis report was sent out via the Bloomberg terminal:

[Emergency] China’s Xinghuo announces KrF photoresist breakthrough, may break Japanese monopoly.

Impact rating: Negative

Affected stocks: JSR, Tokyo Ohka Kogyo, Shin-Etsu Chemical

At 4:10 PM, in the Tokyo stock market, the stock prices of the three photoresist giants began to dive.

JSR plummeted from 3250 yen per share to 2980 yen, a drop of 8.3%.

Tokyo Ohka Kogyo fell from 4520 yen to 4150 yen, a drop of 8.2%.

Shin-Etsu Chemical fell from 16800 yen to 15400 yen, a drop of 8.3%.

All three stocks triggered the circuit breaker mechanism and trading was suspended for 10 minutes.

On the other side of the globe, the American stock market hadn’t opened yet, but in pre-market trading, the stock prices of semiconductor equipment companies such as Applied Materials (AMAT) and Lam Research (LRCX) also began to fall—if China could even produce its own photoresist, then what was the point of America’s semiconductor equipment ban on China?

At 4:30 PM, in China, although the semiconductor sector stocks had already closed, stock bars, forums, and WeChat groups were exploding.

”Xinghuo is awesome! Photoresist breakthrough!”

”The semiconductor sector will hit at least ten daily limit ups tomorrow!”

”The good days for the Japanese are over!”

In the inner circle of professionals, the discussion was even deeper:

The technical director of SMIC sent a message in the internal group: ”Contact Xinghuo immediately, prioritize sample testing to the highest level. If the performance is true, the material cost for the 14nm production line next year can be reduced by 30%.”

The procurement director of Yangtze Memory: ”Arrange for the technical team to fly to Huizhou tomorrow, we want the first batch of supply.”

The materials expert at Huawei HiSilicon posted on WeChat Moments: ”What does this mean? It means that from design to manufacturing to materials, the last short board of the Chinese semiconductor industrial chain has been filled. From now on, sanctions can never choke our throats again.”