Major Heavy Industry: Starting with a Fake Marriage

Chapter 39 Cold

She saw Jiang Cheng, paused for a moment, then quickly walked over. But when she reached him, she stopped, just looking at him, her lips moving, but she didn't say a word.

Jiang Cheng looked at her. She had lost weight in the two months since he last saw her; her cheeks were red from the cold, and tiny frost flowers clung to her eyelashes. Her cotton overcoat was new, but clearly a size too big, with the cuffs rolled up twice. She wore cotton shoes, the uppers speckled with mud—she must have been waiting on the platform for a long time.

"Why are you wearing such big clothes?" Jiang Cheng asked.

Zheng Yanxi looked down and said, "Yours. You didn't take your cotton coat; it's warm for me to wear."

Jiang Cheng felt a lump in his throat. He reached out and pulled the hood of her cotton coat up to cover her ears, which were red from the cold.

"Let's go home," he said.

Zheng Yanxi nodded and followed behind him. After taking a couple of steps, she turned back to Huang Deqing and said, "Master Huang, my dad said he wants you to come to our house for dinner tomorrow."

Huang Deqing waved his hand: "No, no, it's the New Year, your family is having a reunion, why would I go and join in the fun?"

"My dad specifically said that," Zheng Yanxi said. "He said he wanted to thank you for teaching Jiang Cheng all these years."

Huang Deqing paused for a moment, then smiled: "Okay, then let's go."

The three of them walked out of the train station. It was still dark, the streetlights were dim, and snowflakes were still falling. Jiang Cheng and Zheng Yanxi walked side by side, neither of them speaking, but their steps were perfectly synchronized.

Huang Deqing walked behind, watching the backs of the two people in front of him, and the corners of his mouth curved up.

When Jiang Cheng got back to the dormitory building, it was already dawn. He looked up at the fourth-floor window—the light was on, and the curtains were slightly ajar, as if someone had been waiting.

I went upstairs and opened the door. The room was warm; the fire in the stove was still burning, and a kettle of water was bubbling away. On the table were several bowls and plates covered with gauze. Lifting the gauze, I found pickled fish, stir-fried sauerkraut, a dish of peanuts, and half a bottle of white wine.

"Did you do this?" Jiang Cheng asked.

Zheng Yanxi nodded: "I didn't know when you would arrive, so I prepared in advance. The fish was distributed by the factory, and I marinated it according to your method. I don't know if it will taste good."

Jiang Cheng picked up a piece of fish with his chopsticks and put it in his mouth. The saltiness was just right, the meat was firm, and it had a fragrance of Sichuan peppercorns and cooking wine.

"It's delicious," he said.

Zheng Yanxi's eyes lit up: "Really?"

"real."

The two sat down to eat. Outside the window, the sky gradually brightened, and the snow stopped. Sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the dish of peanuts on the table and Zheng Yanxi's profile.

Jiang Cheng looked at her and suddenly said, "Yanxi, I brought you something."

He took out the light blue polyester fabric from his bag and handed it to her. Zheng Yanxi took it, unfolded it, and held it up in front of her.

"It's beautiful," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "How did you know I liked this color?"

"Just guessing. You look good in light colors."

Zheng Yanxi lowered her head, folded the fabric neatly, and placed it on her lap. After a while, she said softly, "Jiang Cheng, don't buy such expensive things anymore. You're alone out there, and you'll have many expenses."

"It's not expensive," Jiang Cheng said. "It was paid for with my royalties. It was given to me for writing the book, so it's not considered a waste of money."

Zheng Yanxi looked up at him, her eyes slightly red. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but in the end, she just nodded.

After dinner, Jiang Cheng went to wash the dishes. Zheng Yanxi stood at the kitchen doorway, leaning against the doorframe, watching him work.

"Jiang Cheng, are you leaving again this time you're back?" she asked.

Jiang Cheng paused for a moment: "I might have to leave again after the New Year. Director Zhang said he wants to promote our experience nationwide and asked me to give lectures in various places."

Zheng Yanxi was silent for a moment: "Then when will it end?"

Jiang Cheng turned around and looked at her. Her expression was calm, but there was something in her eyes that made his heart tighten.

"Yanxi, if you feel—"

"That's not what I meant," Zheng Yanxi interrupted him. "I was just asking. If you're going, then go. I won't stop you."

She walked over, took the bowl from his hands, and began to wash it. Jiang Cheng stood beside her, watching. Her fingers were slender and red from the cold water, but she washed very carefully, turning each bowl several times.

"Yanxi," he said.

"Um?"

"Once I'm done with this busy period, I'll take you to see Beijing."

Zheng Yanxi paused for a moment, then continued washing: "What are you going to Beijing for?"

"Look at Tiananmen Square, look at the Great Wall, look at those big factories," Jiang Cheng said. "You've never even left Shenyang, have you?"

Zheng Yanxi didn't speak, but just kept her head down washing the dishes. After a while, she softly hummed in agreement.

That afternoon, Jiang Cheng went to the factory to see Huang Deqing.

The logistics warehouse had been emptied—Huang Deqing had been transferred back to the machine repair workshop, and the technical innovation team had resumed its work. When Jiang Cheng entered the workshop, several young workers were discussing something around a lathe. When they saw him come in, they immediately surrounded him.

"Master Jiang is back!"

"Master Jiang, we heard you published a book? Let us see it!"

"Master Jiang, what's Beijing like? Tell us about it!"

Jiang Cheng smiled and responded, but his eyes were searching for Huang Deqing. Finally, he found him in the innermost corner of the workshop—squatting on the ground, facing an old-fashioned milling machine, seemingly deep in thought.

"master."

Huang Deqing didn't even look up: "You're here?"

Jiang Cheng squatted down beside him and looked at the milling machine. It was a domestically produced machine from 1958, covered in rust, with the handle worn shiny.

"This machine is older than you," Huang Deqing said. "It's broken down several times in the two months you've been gone. Each repair lasts for three days, then it needs another repair, and that's how it works."

Jiang Cheng reached out and touched the guide rail, then shook the handle, and he knew what was going on: "The guide rail is severely worn, and the lead screw clearance is also too large. It needs a major overhaul."

"Major repairs?" Huang Deqing looked up. "Where will the money come from?"

Jiang Cheng thought for a moment: "Master, isn't our technical innovation team always working on modifications? Once this machine is fixed, it'll be a lifesaver. Then other factories will hire us to modify other machines, and we'll make money, right?"

Huang Deqing looked at him, remained silent for a moment, and then laughed: "You kid, you're quick-witted."

He stood up, brushed the dust off his knees, and said, "Okay, let's do it."

The next day, Jiang Cheng and Huang Deqing, along with their technical innovation team, began modifying the old milling machine. This was the first job Jiang Cheng had taken on since returning, and when the news spread, half the factory came to see what was going on.

"Isn't this that old, outdated milling machine? Can it still be modified?"

"I heard Jiang Cheng published a book in Beijing, which is about how to modify old equipment."

"I read that book. It's really well written and easy to understand."

Jiang Cheng ignored the gossip and focused intently on his work. He first led his team to disassemble the milling machine completely, inspecting each part and categorizing them. Good parts were placed in one pile, repairable parts in another, and scrapped parts in yet another. Huang Deqing supervised the process, ensuring that every part passed through his hands.