Major Heavy Industry: Starting with a Fake Marriage

Chapter 85 These people are

Jiang Yuan opened his eyes, looked at her, then at Jiang Cheng, and then burst into tears.

Zheng Yanxi tried to soothe him, pacing around the room. The little guy cried for a while, then got tired and fell asleep again. She put him in his crib, covered him with a blanket, and stood by the bed watching him for a long time.

"Let's go," she said.

Jiang Cheng picked up his bag and went downstairs with her. The night breeze was cool and felt a bit cold on their faces. The streetlights cast dim yellow shadows on the ground, one long and one short.

"Call me when you get there," he said.

"Um."

"Come back once a week, don't overwork yourself."

"Um."

"I will take good care of Jiang Yuan."

She stopped and looked at him. In the moonlight, her face was very white, and her eyes were very bright.

"Jiang Cheng, you must take good care of yourself too."

He nodded. She turned and walked away. After a few steps, she stopped, glanced back at him, and continued walking. Her figure grew smaller and smaller under the streetlights, until it finally disappeared at the alley entrance.

Jiang Cheng stood downstairs for a long time. Then he turned around and went upstairs.

The room was quiet. The fire in the stove was almost out, with only a few pieces of embers still glowing. Jiang Yuan was fast asleep in his crib, his little mouth slightly open, his breathing even. He knelt down and pulled the blanket up to cover the little guy's feet.

Then he sat down at the table, turned on the desk lamp, took out his notebook, and continued writing the rectification plan.

Outside the window, the moon was round and bright, shining on the cactus on the windowsill. Round and plump, covered in thorns, it gleamed with a faint green light in the moonlight.

Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Wasteland

One morning in late April, Jiang Cheng received a phone call. It was from Sun Deming, who said in a low voice, "Brother Jiang, I have something I'd like to ask for your help with."

"What is it?"

"There's a small factory in my hometown called Liuhe Agricultural Machinery Repair and Manufacturing Factory. It's going out of business. The factory manager is my cousin, and I'd like to ask you to come and take a look."

Jiang Cheng, holding the microphone, asked, "What's going on?"

"The equipment is so old it's beyond repair. It breaks down after being repaired, then it's repaired again. There are no technicians in the factory, just a few old workers holding it together. Last year alone, they changed factory managers three times, and none of them lasted long. The current manager is my cousin, surnamed Sun, named Sun Desheng. He called me and said that if things continue like this, the factory will have to close down. He asked if I could come and take a look."

Jiang Cheng remained silent for a while. He had never been to Liuhe, but he had heard of it. It was a very remote place in northern Liaoning, near Inner Mongolia, so remote that there was no train service and one had to take a long-distance bus.

"Brother Jiang, if it's inconvenient for you, then forget it—"

"I'll go," Jiang Cheng said. "When?"

"The sooner the better. The factory is waiting to get to work."

Jiang Cheng put down the phone, stood by the window, and looked at the sky outside. The sky was blue, the clouds were white, and the poplar leaves rustled in the wind. He turned around and went into the laboratory, where Huang Deqing was teaching Wang Xiaojun how to apply a coating.

The exam results for the workers' university have not yet been released.

"Master, I need to go out for a bit."

"Where to?"

"Liuhe. A small factory, the equipment is broken, I'll go take a look."

Huang Deqing put down the spray gun and looked at him: "How many days will you be gone?"

"I don't know. We'll see."

Huang Deqing nodded and didn't ask any more questions. He took out the tin cigarette case from his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a puff.

"How many people should we take?"

"Take Deming and Xiaojun with you."

Huang Deqing glanced at Wang Xiaojun. Wang Xiaojun stood there, holding a spray gun, looking somewhat nervous.

"Xiaojun, go," Huang Deqing said. "Don't just work there, observe more. See how other factories collapsed, and you'll know how ours survived."

Wang Xiaojun nodded.

The next morning, Jiang Cheng, along with Sun Deming and Wang Xiaojun, boarded a long-distance bus to Liuhe. The bus was old; the leather seats were cracked, revealing the foam underneath. The engine was loud, like an old diesel engine, and the whole bus shook with every press of the accelerator. The scenery outside the window changed from city to countryside, and then from countryside to wilderness. The road became narrower and bumpier, and the dust kicked up seeped in through the cracks in the windows, making their throats choke.

Sun Deming sat by the window, looking out silently. Jiang Cheng knew he was upset. That was his hometown, the factory that was about to close down; he might have even played there when he was a child.

"Deming, what's your cousin like?" Jiang Cheng asked.

Sun Deming turned his head and thought for a moment: "He's honest, but a bit stubborn. Once he's made up his mind, nothing can change it."

"It's good that you're stubborn," Jiang Cheng said. "A person who isn't stubborn can't handle a factory like this."

Sun Deming looked at him without saying a word.

The car drove for more than four hours, finally arriving in Liuhe around 2 PM. It was a small town with a main street lined with low-rise houses, a few shops, a post office, and a clinic. There weren't many people on the street; a few old men were squatting under the walls, basking in the sun. When they saw the car stop, they glanced up, then looked down again.

Sun Deming's cousin was waiting at the station. He was in his early forties, with a square face and dark skin, wearing a faded blue work uniform with frayed cuffs. Seeing Sun Deming get off the train, he quickly walked over, shook hands, and then turned to Jiang Cheng.

"You must be Master Jiang? I've heard so much about you. I'm Sun Desheng."

Jiang Cheng squeezed his hand. His hand was rough, his palms were covered in calluses, and his knuckles were thick, like tree roots.

"Director Sun, take us to see the factory."

"Let's eat first. You've been on the road for so long—"

"Let's go see the factory first," Jiang Cheng said.

Sun Desheng glanced at him, didn't try to persuade him further, and turned to lead the way.

The agricultural machinery repair shop was located at the east end of the town. Its chimney, visible from afar, stood alone, emitting no smoke. There was no sign at the entrance, only a few words painted in white on the wall—"Liuhe Agricultural Machinery Repair Shop"—the paint faded, some strokes illegible. The gate was made of rusted iron bars, creaking as it was pushed open, like the phlegm an old man coughs up.

The yard was overgrown with withered, yellow grass that rustled underfoot. Several pieces of scrap metal lay exposed in the open, rusted into piles of junk. The workshop was a brick building with several broken panes of glass in the windows, patched up with plastic sheeting that rattled in the wind.

Jiang Cheng walked into the workshop. The light was dim, with only a few incandescent bulbs casting huge shadows on the old equipment. The air was thick with the smells of machine oil and rust, mixed with the stench of musty wood, making it hard to breathe. A thick layer of greasy mud covered the floor, soft and spongy underfoot, like a swamp.

There were seven or eight workers in the workshop, some working, some squatting on the ground chatting. When they saw Sun Desheng bring his men in, they all looked up, curious. An older worker walked over; he was in his fifties, with gray hair, a wrinkled face, and wearing an oil-stained work uniform.

"Director Sun, who are these people?"

"This is Master Jiang from Shenyang, who specializes in repairing equipment," Sun Desheng introduced.