Major Heavy Industry: Starting with a Fake Marriage

Chapter 83 taught

"I taught them. I taught three. One of them learned exceptionally well, even better than I did back then."

Jiang Cheng patted him on the shoulder: "Okay."

Old Zhao arrived in the afternoon. He was a little thinner than when he left, but in good spirits. He brought a gift—a box of apples, saying they were homegrown and wanted everyone to try them.

"Master Jiang, when I was at the mine, I taught our techniques to five people. Now those five people can all work independently." Old Zhao said this in a calm voice, but there was a light in his eyes.

Li Zhiqiang arrived in the evening. He had traveled from Fushun, taking a four-hour train ride, and it was already dark when he arrived. He carried a bag of pancakes, saying they were a specialty of Fushun, and he was bringing them as provisions.

"Brother Jiang, I have something I want to tell you." Li Zhiqiang put down his bag and rubbed his hands together.

"What is it?"

"I want to take the engineer exam. The factory said that if I have a recommendation from our center, I can register."

Jiang Cheng looked at him: "You want to take the exam?"

"I want to. But I'm afraid I won't pass the exam."

Jiang Cheng thought for a moment and said, "What you're doing is even more engineer-like than what engineers do. Passing the exam would be icing on the cake. Failing wouldn't affect your work. Are you in or not?"

Li Zhiqiang paused for a moment, then laughed: "Damn it."

The next day, everyone was present. All nine people, not one missing, sat in the conference room. Blueprints and documents were spread out on the table, and steam rose from the enamel mugs. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, illuminating everyone's faces.

Jiang Cheng stood up and looked at these people. Sun Deming, Lao Zhao, Li Zhiqiang, Wang Xiaojun... He recognized every face and remembered every name.

"Gentlemen," he said, "the second batch of landing gear is starting today. Beijing's official letter has arrived, confirming that this project is unaffected by local approvals. We can get started."

The meeting room fell silent for a moment, then erupted in applause. Sun Deming clapped the loudest, his hands turning red from clapping.

"But," Jiang Cheng said, "this time is different from last time. Last time we were delivering a job to the military, this time we're paying off a debt to them. The military has been waiting for these spare parts for a long time. We can't make them wait any longer."

He paused, then glanced around at the audience.

"So, this time it needs to be faster and better. Any questions?"

Nobody said there was a problem.

"Then let's get to work."

In the courtyard, the poplar trees sprouted tender buds, small and green, swaying in the wind. Sunlight shone on those buds, making them sparkle like countless tiny eyes.

Jiang Cheng stood by the window, watching the people leave the office and head towards the laboratory. Sun Deming walked in front, his strides long, as if he were going to war. Old Zhao followed behind, walking slowly but steadily. Wang Xiaojun brought up the rear, carrying a book and reading as he walked, almost tripping over the threshold.

Jiang Cheng looked at them and smiled, a genuine smile.

He turned back to his desk, sat down, picked up his pen, and began writing the production plan for the second batch of landing gear. Outside the window, the sun shone brightly. Spring had finally arrived.

Spring has arrived, but the promotion center remains closed.

After the second batch of landing gear was activated, the laboratory resumed operation. The coating equipment hummed, the grinding machines squeaked, and everything seemed the same as before. But Jiang Cheng knew things were different. The door to the office in the courtyard was still locked; the key had been handed in and hadn't been returned. They could only squeeze into a corner of the laboratory, placing two tables as a temporary office. The space was small, but there were quite a few people; you could bump your elbow just turning around.

The notification of the review weighed heavily on everyone's hearts. No one knew how long the review would take, no one knew what would happen after it was over, and no one knew how much longer the laboratory could be used. Jiang Cheng didn't ask, and no one else said anything, but the unease, like the chill of winter, seeped in through the cracks in the door, impossible to block out.

One day at noon, after lunch, Sun Deming was squatting in the yard smoking. Jiang Cheng walked over and squatted down next to him.

"Deming, what are you thinking about?"

Sun Deming exhaled a puff of smoke and looked at the distant sky: "I miss Anshan Iron and Steel."

"Want to go back?"

"No." He shook his head. "I'm thinking about the people over there. I taught three apprentices at Anshan Iron and Steel, but I don't know how they're doing."

Jiang Cheng didn't speak. He was thinking too. He was thinking about the trainees who had been trained, whether they had put their skills to use after returning to their respective factories, whether they had encountered any difficulties, and whether anyone had helped them.

"Brother Jiang, do you think our center can still operate?"

Jiang Cheng thought for a moment and said, "Yes."

How did you know?

"Because someone needs us," Jiang Cheng said. "As long as there are machines that can't be repaired, they need us."

Sun Deming looked at him but didn't ask any more questions. He stubbed out his cigarette, stood up, dusted off his pants, and went into the laboratory.

Jiang Cheng squatted in the courtyard, motionless. The sunlight shone on him, warm and cozy, but he felt a little cold. He thought of the letters his trainees had sent—some saying they had fixed their first machine, some saying they had become team leaders, some saying they had mentored apprentices. Every letter was written crookedly, some even with typos, but every word was warm. These things were more effective than any official document.

In the afternoon, Jiang Cheng received a phone call. It was from the Provincial Machinery Department; an unfamiliar voice spoke in a businesslike tone: "Comrade Jiang Cheng? We need to supplement some materials regarding your center's review. Please come to the department tomorrow morning."

"What materials?"

You'll find out when you get here.

The call ended. Jiang Cheng held the receiver, listening to the busy tone, and stood there for a while.

The next morning, he went to the Provincial Machinery Department.

The hall was located in the city center, in a gray five-story building. Two cement pillars stood at the entrance, with a white sign bearing black lettering. He walked in; the corridor was long, the fluorescent lights casting a stark white light that made his eyes water. Slogans hung on the walls—"Learn from Daqing in Industry" and "Learn from Dazhai in Agriculture"—the red paper faded, the edges curled up.

He found the office on the third floor and knocked on the door. A voice came from inside: "Come in."

He pushed open the door and saw three people sitting inside. Two men and one woman, all dressed in dark blue Zhongshan suits, with serious expressions. A stack of documents lay on the table, and he recognized the cover of the top one—it was his work summary for the promotion center.

"Comrade Jiang Cheng, please sit down." The man in the middle gestured to the chair. He was in his early forties, with his hair neatly combed and wearing gold-rimmed glasses. He spoke slowly and deliberately.

Jiang Cheng sat down. The man picked up the work summary, flipped through it, and put it down.

"We've read your summary. It's very well written. But there are some parts that need to be added."

"Please speak."

"Since your center was established, how much funding have you received in total? Where has it been spent? Do you have detailed accounts?"

Jiang Cheng took a document out of his bag and handed it over: "This is the complete account. Every income and expense is recorded. Receipts, invoices, and signatures are all there."