Major Heavy Industry: Starting with a Fake Marriage

Chapter 52 The Giant Finger

Jiang Cheng walked around the machine, squatted down, and touched the bottom of the main cylinder. His fingers were covered in a layer of grease, and when he smelled it, there was a pungent rubbery smell.

"Section Chief Qian, the sealing ring is severely aged, so oil leakage is inevitable." He stood up. "But this sealing ring doesn't need to be imported."

Qian Zhiguo was taken aback: "No need to import? Where in China can we find this specification?"

Jiang Cheng pulled a sample of a sealing ring from his pocket—an extra one he'd brought with him when he was modifying the hydraulic press in Shanghai, and he'd kept it with him ever since. He handed the sample to Qian Zhiguo: "This is the one we used in Shanghai; the specifications are similar to yours. The Shenyang Rubber Factory can produce it; we don't need to wait for imports."

Qian Zhiguo took the sample, examining it repeatedly, his expression growing increasingly grim. Several technicians behind him huddled together, whispering amongst themselves.

"Section Chief Qian," Jiang Cheng said, "if you agree, we can help you develop a sealing solution. We guarantee the machine will be running within three days."

Qian Zhiguo stood there, the sample in his hand cracking loudly. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but nothing came out. An older technician behind him couldn't help but say, "Section Chief Qian, let them give it a try. If this machine doesn't get going, we won't be able to meet next quarter's production targets."

Qian Zhiguo turned around and glared at him. The technician shrank back and remained silent.

The meeting room was so quiet that you could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall. Sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating Qian Zhiguo's face, half in light and half in shadow, like a mask from a Peking Opera.

Jiang Cheng looked at Qian Zhiguo, neither urging him nor speaking. He knew that this was forcing him to make a choice—whether to let the machine continue to rot and save face, or to let Jiang Cheng fix it and admit his incompetence.

Qian Zhiguo remained silent for a long time, then threw the sample in his hand onto the table: "Fine, give it a try. But let me make this clear: if you fix it, that's your skill. If you can't—"

"If it can't be fixed, I'll take responsibility," Jiang Cheng said.

Qian Zhiguo glanced at him, said nothing, and turned to leave.

For the next three days, Jiang Cheng and Huang Deqing lived and ate at the heavy machinery factory.

They first disassembled the main cylinder of the hydraulic press to inspect the sealing structure. Sure enough, the sealing ring was so old it was like rotten mud, crumbling at the slightest touch. Jiang Cheng measured the dimensions, drew up the drawings, and had Sun Deming send them to the rubber factory for processing.

"Master, look at this sealing structure, it's similar to the one in Shanghai." Jiang Cheng squatted in front of the disassembled main cylinder, pointing to the groove inside, "But there's a design flaw here—the installation groove for the sealing ring is too shallow, and the clamping force is insufficient. Over time, the sealing ring will shift, causing oil leakage."

Huang Deqing came over to take a look and nodded: "Add a retaining ring to hold the sealing ring in place."

"That's what I think too."

After discussing for a long time, the two came up with an improved plan. They not only replaced the sealing ring but also added a retaining ring and modified the dimensions of the mounting groove. This plan was even more reasonable than the original design.

The sealing ring was completed the next day. Jiang Cheng installed it himself, with Huang Deqing supervising. During the installation, several technicians from the heavy machinery factory gathered around to watch, and some whispered among themselves.

"Is that Jiang Cheng? The one who published the book?"

"I heard he's a former fitter, he's really skilled."

"Section Chief Qian has really embarrassed himself this time."

Jiang Cheng ignored him, focusing intently on the installation. He proceeded with utmost care, meticulously following each step. Huang Deqing stood by, handing him tools, occasionally offering a reminder, and sometimes simply nodding.

The installation was completed on the afternoon of the third day. Jiang Cheng straightened up, his body covered in sweat, and his hands were trembling.

"Give it a try," he told the operator.

The worker glanced at Qian Zhiguo. Qian Zhiguo stood at a distance, his face grim, but he still nodded.

The motor started, and the hydraulic system began to pressurize. The pressure gauge pointer slowly rose—100 kg, 200 kg, 500 kg, 800 kg—and then steadily stopped at the rated pressure without any fluctuation.

A cheer erupted in the workshop. Several technicians rushed up, surrounding Jiang Cheng and bombarding him with questions. The older technician, shaking Jiang Cheng's hand, was so excited his voice trembled: "Master Jiang, you've been a huge help to us! This machine had been broken for half a year, and we were getting criticized every day! Now it's all right!"

Jiang Cheng smiled and said, "It wasn't something I did alone. Everyone did it together."

He turned his head and saw Qian Zhiguo standing in the corner, his face ashen. Their eyes met in mid-air, Qian Zhiguo's gaze like a poisoned knife, cold and sharp.

Huang Deqing walked over and whispered, "Chengzi, you've offended him."

Jiang Cheng nodded: "I know."

Are you scared?

Jiang Cheng thought for a moment and said, "I'm not afraid. I'm here to work, not to make friends."

Huang Deqing looked at him and suddenly smiled: "You're right."

That evening, Director Zhao of the heavy machinery factory treated everyone to dinner. At the table, Director Zhao, raising his glass, said to Jiang Cheng, "Master Jiang, you're truly a talent. Our factory's hydraulic press had been under repair for six months, but you fixed it in just three days. I'd like to toast you!"

Jiang Cheng picked up his wine glass and drank it all in one gulp.

Factory Director Zhao then said, "Master Jiang, I have a request. Could you stay at our factory for a few more days? We have a few old pieces of equipment that we'd like you to take a look at."

Jiang Cheng thought for a moment and said, "Director Zhao, I can help. But I have one condition."

"you say."

"After these machines are repaired, your factory needs to send technicians to learn how to use them. I can't stay at your factory forever; your own people need to learn how to use them."

Factory Director Zhao paused for a moment, then burst into laughter: "Good! Well said! That's real help!"

After a few rounds of drinks, Factory Director Zhao suddenly lowered his voice and said, "Master Jiang, there's something I need to remind you of."

"What is it?"

"Qian Zhiguo is a narrow-minded person. You made him lose face today, and he won't let it go. You know his brother-in-law is Zhou Chuanming, right? He has connections in the province. Be careful in the future."

Jiang Cheng nodded: "Thank you for the reminder, Director Zhao."

After the party ended, Jiang Cheng walked out of the factory gate, the night wind blowing in his face. He stood at the entrance of the heavy machinery factory, looking at the dark factory buildings across the street, a mix of emotions churning within him.

He won this battle, but his opponents won't let it go. Zhou Chuanming, Qian Zhiguo, and the network behind them are constantly tightening. Today he's made a name for himself at the heavy machinery factory, but tomorrow new troubles will come knocking.

But he wasn't afraid. He had skills, connections, a mentor, and family. These were things no one could take away from him.

He quickened his pace towards the bus stop. The last bus was about to leave, and he needed to get back. Yanxi was still waiting for him at home; the baby still needed to be breastfed.

Reaching the bus stop, he glanced back at the somber-looking factory area. The streetlights cast his long shadow, stretching all the way to the middle of the road. In the distance, a bus slowly approached, its headlights tearing two slits in the darkness, like a pair of eyes scrutinizing this still-sleeping world.

He got on the bus and sat in the last row, by the window. Outside, the city's night view flashed by frame by frame—the shops were closed, there were still scattered lights in the residential buildings, and the factory chimneys stood tall under the night sky like giant fingers pointing to the heavens.