Major Heavy Industry: Starting with a Fake Marriage

Chapter 123 Fitter

Over the next few days, Jiang Cheng dealt with the backlog of work at the factory. The technical innovation team had several pieces of equipment waiting for him to inspect, and the promotion center had several projects awaiting his proposals. He left early and returned late every day, eating lunch in the canteen, spending some time with Jiang Yuan in the evening, and then continuing to write proposals. His days were very regular, like a tightly wound spring, never stopping for a moment.

Huang Deqing was absent, so Lao Zhao took his place. Lao Zhao worked slowly but meticulously, checking each part three times before assembling it. Jiang Cheng inspected several pieces of equipment he repaired, and the quality was quite good. There was a milling machine that Lao Zhao repaired for three days. When he disassembled it for inspection, he found that the teeth of one gear had slight wear. It was still usable according to standards, but he still replaced it with a new one.

"The old one works, but it won't last long. The new one will last three years," he said. Jiang Cheng asked him where the new gear came from, and he said it was taken from a scrapped milling machine. All the other parts on that milling machine were broken, but this gear was good.

"Old Zhao, thank you for your hard work." Jiang Cheng squatted in front of a newly repaired lathe, touched the guide rail with his hand, it was smooth and flat, without any burrs.

"What's the trouble? We can't just sit idle while you're gone." Old Zhao squatted down next to him and handed him a cigarette. It was a Daqianmen brand, an ordinary brand. Jiang Cheng took it, tucked it behind his ear, but didn't light it.

"How's that kid Sun Deming doing in Beijing?"

"He's doing great. He's lost weight, but he's in good spirits. He's doing the work of two people. He told me he learned more in BJ than he did in a year at the center. Every day when he gets back to the guesthouse, he reads for two hours straight, mostly programming books."

Old Zhao laughed. "That kid, back when he was at the mine, he was always thinking about transferring. Now look what he's done, he's gone to Beijing. You never know what people are like. When he first came to the center, he couldn't even understand the blueprints, and now he can write programs."

Jiang Cheng smiled too.

On Friday afternoon, Jiang Cheng went to the provincial department. Not to see anyone, but to check on the discussion results of the document. He stood for a while in front of the information board in the lobby and saw the notice—the document regarding qualification certification would be formally discussed next Wednesday. Before the discussion, relevant units could submit written opinions. The notice was posted in the form of an official document with a red header, stamped with the official seal of the Provincial Machinery Department; it was very conspicuous. A supplementary notice was also posted next to it, stating that the deadline for submitting opinions was next Tuesday, and late submissions would not be accepted.

He noted down the notification number and the contact person, then turned and left.

It was already dark when he stepped out of the provincial government building. The streetlights came on, their orange glow casting a long shadow on the gray concrete. He stood at the entrance, watching the people coming and going, and suddenly remembered someone—Zhou Chuanming. How long had it been since he'd heard that name? Two months? Three months? He thought that matter was over, but now, the qualification certification documents reminded him of him again. Zhou Chuanming was still in the building; his office was on the third floor, with a south-facing window.

Jiang Cheng looked up; the windows were dark, and the lights were off. The curtains were drawn tightly shut, and he couldn't see anything.

He didn't know what role Zhou Chuanming played in this matter. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. But he couldn't gamble.

When Jiang Yuan got home, Zheng Yanxi had already prepared dinner. She had gotten off work early today, picked up Jiang Yuan from her mother's house, and then went to the market to buy groceries. On the table were three dishes and a soup: braised pork, stir-fried greens, cucumber salad, and tomato and egg soup. The braised pork sauce was thick and glistening, the greens were vibrant green, and the cucumbers were thinly sliced ​​and neatly arranged. The soup bowl had a blue rim and a chip on the edge, a result of last year's breakage.

"Why is it so lavish today?" Jiang Cheng sat down and picked up a piece of braised pork.

"You're leaving tomorrow. I'll cook you a nice meal."

Jiang Cheng chewed on the meat without saying a word. The meat was stewed until very tender, melting in his mouth, and perfectly seasoned. The fat wasn't greasy, and the lean meat wasn't dry; it was Zheng Yanxi's specialty. He picked up a second piece, then a third.

"Yanxi, your cooking skills are getting better and better."

"You're hungry, aren't you?"

Jiang Cheng smiled. Jiang Yuan sat on a small chair, holding a piece of cucumber in his hand, munching on it until his mouth was full of juice. He took two bites, threw the cucumber away, and reached for the braised pork. Zheng Yanxi pushed his hand away, put a piece of lean meat on his plate, and placed it in his small bowl. He grabbed it, stuffed it into his mouth, chewed it a couple of times, and swallowed. Then he reached for it again, and Zheng Yanxi put another piece on his plate.

"Eat slowly." Zheng Yanxi wiped his mouth with a tissue. The tissue was the kind of coarse yellow paper that felt a bit rough on his face. Jiang Yuan's mouth was pricked by the tissue, and he became unhappy, squirming around.

Looking at the mother and son, Jiang Cheng suddenly felt a surge of indescribable emotion. It wasn't gratitude, nor reluctance, but something deeper, heavier, like lead weighing on his chest, yet as light as cotton. He remembered he would be leaving again tomorrow, and wouldn't see them for another month. He remembered when he last left, Jiang Yuan couldn't call him "Dad," but now he could. When he came back next time, he would probably say even more words. He didn't know how long it would take for Jiang Yuan to learn to say "I miss," nor did he know when he would say, "I miss Dad."

After dinner, Jiang Cheng washed the dishes. Zheng Yanxi gave Jiang Yuan a bath. The little guy sat in the tub, splashing water everywhere. Zheng Yanxi's clothes were half wet, but she wasn't annoyed; she simply held his little hands and dried his back with a towel. The water in the tub was warm, and the rising steam blurred her face. Jiang Yuan's hair was wet and plastered to his scalp, making his head look even bigger.

"Mom—" he called out.

"Yes," Zheng Yanxi replied.

"Mom—" he called again.

"Why."

He called her name five or six times, and Zheng Yanxi responded each time. When she responded the last time, her voice trembled slightly, but she still smiled. She lifted Jiang Yuan out of the bathtub, wrapped him in a towel, dried him, and applied baby powder. The scent of baby powder filled the bathroom, sweet and warm.

Jiang Cheng stood in the kitchen doorway, holding an unwashed bowl, watching this scene. He stood there for a long time, until the bowl slipped from his hands, before he came to his senses. The bowl spun twice in the sink and then stopped.

On Monday morning, Jiang Cheng boarded the train to Beijing.

Zheng Yanxi saw him off at the station. Jiang Yuan didn't come; he was still asleep. She stood on the platform, wearing a gray coat, her hair disheveled by the wind, which she hadn't bothered to fix. As the train started moving, she took a few steps, then stopped and waved. Her hand was raised high, and she waved slowly, as if greeting someone far away.

Jiang Cheng leaned against the window, watching her until she was out of sight, before retreating back to his seat.

A middle-aged man sat opposite Jiang Cheng, wearing blue overalls, holding a copy of "The Mechanic" magazine and flipping through it. Seeing Jiang Cheng pull back, he looked up and smiled.

"On business trip?"

I guess so.

"Someone in the mechanical field?"

"fitter."