Major Heavy Industry: Starting with a Fake Marriage

Chapter 72 He turned and left

He turned and left, leaving the door open. Jiang Cheng heard his footsteps fade into the distance in the corridor, then stop, and then start again—he had probably gone to the lab.

Jiang Cheng smiled and continued writing the proposal.

In the afternoon, he called a meeting with all the staff of the promotion center. There weren't many people; including himself, there were nine in total. The meeting room wasn't big, and the nine people were crammed together, arm in arm. Sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the clivia on the table—this plant was brought in by Zheng Yanxi last week, who said that the office felt stuffy without any greenery.

"Gentlemen," Jiang Cheng stood up, "we received official notification today that the landing gear repair project has commenced. The first batch of fifty landing gears will be completed in three months."

The meeting room fell silent for a moment, then erupted into chaos.

"Fifty pieces? Three months? That means we have to work on almost two pieces a day?" Old Zhao was the first to speak up. He was on loan from the mine and was over fifty years old. He had worked in machinery all his life and had seen all kinds of storms, but even he frowned this time.

"It takes at least two days to process a single landing gear unit, from coating and stress relief to grinding and inspection," Sun Deming said, counting on his fingers. "With just a few of us, can we manage two units a day?"

Wang Xiaojun sat in the corner, not saying a word, but his eyes were bright, as if he had something to say.

Jiang Cheng waited until everyone quieted down before speaking: "You're all right. Fifty sticks, three months—with the current manpower, we can't finish."

The meeting room fell silent again.

"So, we need to add more people," Jiang Cheng said. "We'll borrow another batch of workers with basic skills from various factories, and train them on the job. The first batch of trainees has already graduated, and you all know how well they've fared since they went back. What does that show? It shows that the training was effective. We not only need to do the work ourselves, but also teach others how to do it."

Old Zhao shook his head: "Master Jiang, it's not that I don't believe in training. The problem is, this batch of landing gear is for airplanes, not factory machinery. If something goes wrong, it could be fatal! Can a novice handle it?"

This is a very practical question. Jiang Cheng looked at him and said seriously, "Old Zhao, you're right. Novices can't just jump in. So we need to tier them up—coating, stress relief, grinding, inspection, each process has a tier. The most critical processes, like coating and inspection, will be done by me and the master craftsman. The other processes will be done by trained workers, but they need to be supervised by experienced workers. Only after passing one process can they move on to the next."

Old Zhao thought for a moment and nodded: "That will work."

Sun Deming then asked, "Brother Jiang, if we borrow people from various factories, will they release them?"

"I'll go talk to them," Jiang Cheng said. "If they won't release the people, we'll find someone else. There are so many factories in the province; surely some will release them. People can't just focus on their own little plot of land. This concerns the national military industry; no one should make excuses."

Huang Deqing remained silent, leaning back in his chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Only after everyone had finished speaking did he finally say, "May I interject?"

Everyone was looking at him.

"There's always work to be done." His voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear. "But people aren't made of iron. Rest when you need to, eat when you need to. Don't end up collapsing after you've finished all the work."

There was a moment of silence in the meeting room, then someone laughed. Sun Deming said, "Master Huang, are you talking about Brother Jiang?"

Huang Deqing didn't laugh: "I'm talking about all of you."

Jiang Cheng looked at his mentor, a warmth spreading through his heart. He knew his mentor was worried about him. He had been staying up late these past few days writing proposals, and his mentor had seen it all but hadn't said anything until today, when he spoke up in front of everyone.

"Master is right," Jiang Cheng said. "Rest when you need to. If anyone collapses from exhaustion, I'll deduct their bonus."

Sun Deming raised his hand: "Brother Jiang, I don't have any bonus to deduct."

"Then I'll deduct your work points."

"I don't have any work points either."

"Then I'll deduct your meal ticket."

Everyone laughed. The laughter dispelled the somber atmosphere in the meeting room.

After the meeting, Jiang Cheng kept Huang Deqing behind.

"Master, I've remembered what you just said."

Huang Deqing lit the cigarette and took a drag: "Remembering is useless. You have to do it."

"I will."

Huang Deqing glanced at him, said nothing more, and left.

Jiang Cheng stood by the window, watching the sky gradually darken in the courtyard. The streetlights were not yet on, and the entire courtyard was shrouded in a hazy twilight. In the distance, the whistle of a train drifted in, one long note followed by one short one, as if greeting someone.

He turned back to his desk and continued writing the proposal. When he got to the training plan section, he paused and wrote a few lines in his notebook:

"List of trainees in the first training course: Wang Xiaojun (Hongxing Plant), Li Zhiqiang (Heavy Machinery Plant), Zhao Dacheng (Mining Plant), Liu Weiguo (Ansteel)..."

He wrote down more than a dozen names, each one personally selected by him. These people would be the first "seeds" for the landing gear repair project. Once they learn, they can teach more people. And if more people learn, this skill will not be lost.

He looked at the list again to make sure nothing was missing, then closed his notebook, stood up, turned off the light, and locked the door.

He went downstairs and looked up at the fourth-floor window. The light was on, the curtains were half-drawn, and he could see Zheng Yanxi's shadow moving around inside. A new orange-red flower had bloomed on the windowsill, standing out vividly in the light.

He went upstairs and opened the door. Zheng Yanxi was sitting at the table reading a book, and Jiang Yuan was asleep on the small bed next to him, his little hands clutching the corner of the blanket tightly.

"You're back?" She looked up.

"Um."

Have you eaten?

"I ate. Steamed buns from the cafeteria, with pickled vegetables."

Zheng Yanxi frowned: "You're eating pickled vegetables again. There are eggs in the fridge, I'll cook you two."

"No, I'm not hungry."

She had already stood up and gone into the kitchen. Jiang Cheng heard the sounds of cracking eggs, boiling water, and spoons hitting the edge of the pot. These sounds blended together, sounding exceptionally clear in the quiet night.

He walked over, leaned against the kitchen doorway, and looked at her. She was wearing an old sweater, the sleeves rolled up twice, revealing her slender, white wrists. Her hair was tied back with a rubber band and hung down over her shoulders. The light shone on her face, softening the contours of her profile.

"What are you looking at?" She didn't turn around, but she knew he was looking at her.

"It's up to you."

"What's so interesting about it?"

"nice."

Her ears turned red. She didn't say anything more and continued boiling the eggs.

Jiang Cheng stood at the door, watching her retreating figure, and suddenly felt that all the hardships were nothing. Outside, fifty landing gears awaited him, three months weighed on him, and countless eyes were watching him. But back here, he was just a husband, a father.

"Yanxi".

"Um?"

"Once I'm done with this busy period, I'll really take you to Beiling to see the ginkgo leaves."

She turned off the heat, scooped the eggs out, put them in a bowl, and brought it over. The bowl was hot and burning her hands, so she used a dishcloth as a cushion before handing it to him.

"You said the same thing last time." She looked at him.

"This time it's really for real."