In the fiery red era of the heavens, refrigerators are refreshed daily.

Chapter 138, Section 137: Three consecutive submissions caused a sensation throughout the factory; housing allocation promises were made.
The afternoon sun, carrying the languid feeling unique to early autumn, slanted through the glass window of the Hongxing State-owned Cotton Mill office building.

Yang Guangming sat upright at the table, with the factory meeting minutes book in front of him open, but his gaze did not fall on the neat handwriting.

His fingertips unconsciously caressed the cold metal cap of the fountain pen; the cool touch seemed to temporarily soothe the anxiety in his heart.

But his thoughts had already traversed the somewhat cramped office piled high with documents, galloping across a broader realm of ideas.

The reminder about the "window of opportunity" from Factory Director Zhao Guodong in his office still echoed in my ears, each word carrying immense weight, like an invisible whip hanging over my head.

"Half a month to a month..."

Yang Guangming silently repeated the deadline to himself, his throat tightening slightly.

The first article sent to the Workers' Daily, "Red Craftsmanship Under the Spindle," was like a pebble thrown into a deep lake. Although it had already created ripples, whether the subsequent waves would arrive as expected remained to be seen.

How can one easily get published in a national-level newspaper?
He dared not slacken in the slightest, for time was like fine sand slipping through his fingers, passing silently and swiftly.

From the moment he dropped that manuscript, which embodied his hard work and hope, into the mailbox, Yang Guangming's mind never stopped working.

The initial drafts of the next two—no, three—articles had been repeatedly sketched, rewritten, and rebuilt in his mind. To ensure everything went perfectly, he decided to prepare an extra one.

This time, he no longer chose a grand "group portrait," but instead focused his writing on a single ordinary worker.

Unearthing extraordinary moments from the ordinary and writing with the simplest and most sincere touch to express the power to touch people's hearts often resonates more with the spirit of "eulogizing ordinary workers" in this era.

Through repeated reflection, the idea gradually became clearer.

The first protagonist: He set his sights on Li Gensheng, the old security guard in the spinning workshop.

This taciturn, even slightly lame, old master craftsman has been guarding those cotton-eating and yarn-spinning machines for decades.

He has a remarkable skill that may seem unassuming – auscultation.

He could pinpoint the source of the machine's slightest noises, much like a skilled traditional Chinese medicine doctor diagnosing a patient's pulse.

Behind this are countless nights of guarding, the marks left by ears pressed against the scorching machine casing, and the simple belief that "machines are comrades-in-arms."

Yang Guangming plans to write an article titled "The 'Old Chinese Medicine Doctor' by the Machine - A Record of the Auscultation Skills of Li Gensheng, a Fine Yarn Maintenance Worker," focusing on his dedication and responsibility, which are permeated with oil stains and years of experience.

Li Gensheng's image gradually took shape in his mind: his spiky, gray hair was as stiff as a steel brush, his wrinkles were as deep as the grooves on a machine, his cloudy eyes only suddenly shone brightly when he was close to the machine, and his hands, covered with calluses and oil stains, touched the cold parts with a strange tenderness.

The second protagonist: He chose Zhao Jinfeng, a female worker who operated a loom in the weaving workshop.

This mother of two is incredibly nimble. She can move like a butterfly among the rapidly moving looms, overseeing more than a dozen machines at the same time. She handles warp and weft breaks quickly and steadily, maintaining an amazing record of "10,000 meters of flawless fabric" for several consecutive years.

Her secret wasn't talent, but rather the ability to "see in all directions and hear from all sides" honed day after day, and the reverence she held for the fact that "cloth is national property."

The title is tentatively set as "The 'Woven Hand' in the Loom Alley - A Story of 10,000 Meters of Flawless Fabric by Loom Worker Zhao Jinfeng".

Zhao Jinfeng's image also comes to life: of medium height, always wearing a white apron, her round face always showing a hint of fatigue, but her eyes are exceptionally bright and sharp, scanning the latitude and longitude lines like a hawk; she walks with a brisk pace, her cloth shoes making a rapid yet light clattering sound on the cement ground, as if stepping on invisible drumbeats.

The third protagonist: He took a liking to Sun Fugui, an old worker in the sizing process of the preparation workshop.

Master Sun has a nickname, "Old Stingy Sun," not because he's stingy with people, but because he's extremely frugal with the slurry, the steam, every drop of water, and every unit of electricity.

The slurry formula and temperature control method he devised saved the factory a lot of costs while ensuring quality.

His catchphrase is, "Even a large family and a big business can't withstand being squandered."

Yang Guangming wanted to write an article titled "The 'Abacus Master' by the Sizing Vault—A Record of the Saving Experience of Veteran Worker Sun Fugui," to vividly demonstrate the working class's sense of ownership in practicing thrift.

Sun Fugui's appearance is vividly portrayed: lean, slightly hunched, wearing faded work clothes, and always carrying a small abacus in his pocket; his finger joints are large, and he can accurately judge the viscosity of a little paste; the way he looks at the steam valve, water meter, and electricity meter is as focused as if he were inspecting a thousand troops.

The idea is there, but how to write it in a way that is deeply moving? How to unleash power in a simple narrative?
Yang Guangming closed his eyes briefly, recalling fragments of reading memories belonging to the "future" in his mind.

Although the award-winning news reports and feature articles of later generations were written in vastly different eras, their essential techniques of portraying the inner world of the characters, showcasing the tension in the details, and elevating the theme of the story served as a clear guide for him, like a spark in the dark night.

He abandoned the overly ornate language and complex structures of later generations, returning to the simplicity most admired in this era, but striving to infuse this "simplicity" with more concise writing, more moving details, and a more natural sublimation.

The words on the paper should smell of machine oil, paste, and sweat, so that the reader can feel as if they are there.

The pen nib scratched on the rough manuscript paper, like a silkworm struggling to eat mulberry leaves.

Sunshine Ming was completely immersed in it.

He made use of every spare moment: during a short rest after lunch, while munching on steamed buns and pickled vegetables from the canteen, he was still analyzing Li Gensheng's expression in his mind.
During breaks when Zhao Guodong was away at meetings, he hunched over his desk and wrote furiously, sweat dripping down his temples;

Back home in the small attic room at night, after his parents had started snoring, he was still working on his words under the dim light of a 15-watt bulb, the light casting a long shadow of him hunched over his desk onto the mottled wall.

Sweat soaked the back of his thin white shirt, quickly seeping and drying in the sweltering September heat, leaving shallow, map-like salt stains.

He revised it repeatedly, carefully considering every word.

When Li Gensheng pressed his ear close to the machine, his focused expression was almost frozen, as if the whole world consisted only of him and the cold steel.

Amidst the deafening roar of the loom, Zhao Jinfeng keenly caught the instant a strand of yarn broke in her eyes—a precision and swiftness a hunter would display upon spotting its prey.

Sun Fugui squatted by the sizing vat, steam rising from it. As he carefully felt the viscosity of the sizing with his fingers, his calloused yet exceptionally nimble hands spoke volumes about years of experience and devotion...

He meticulously refined every detail, striving for precision and vividness, so that the profound and shining "craftsmanship" and "sense of ownership" of these ordinary workers could leap off the page.

Finally, the three manuscripts, which I believed to have been polished to their limit, were completed.

Looking at the thick stack of manuscripts on the table, which embodied his hard work and hopes, Yang Guangming did not hesitate at all.

Time! Saving travel time is crucial!
He took out a thick kraft paper envelope and neatly stacked the four manuscripts inside. The envelope was printed with the red letterhead of the Red Star State-owned Cotton Mill.

In a prominent position on the envelope, he forcefully wrote the address of the Workers' Daily editorial office, the nib of his pen almost tearing through the paper.

In the lower left corner, he heavily marked the words "aviation" and "urgent".

Although airmail postage is expensive, at this moment, time is a hundred times more precious than money.

"Success or failure hinges on this one move."

He muttered to himself, his voice carrying a hint of solitary courage.

Carefully tucking the manuscript into his pocket, he strode towards the post office at the factory gate.

When the envelope, carrying all his hopes, was dropped into the dark green mailbox with a dull thud, he felt his heart sink, only to be filled with a desperate, all-or-nothing expectation.

This time, he bet everything he had.

The waiting was even more agonizing than last time.

Four days might normally be just a blink of an eye, but in the face of such immense anticipation regarding housing, every minute and second felt infinitely long.

Yang Guangming remained outwardly calm, handling the various official tasks assigned by Zhao Guodong:

She can arrange meetings, organize documents, and answer that heavy black dial telephone with ease.

But only he knew that every time the phone rang suddenly, his heart would clench as if gripped by an invisible hand.

He then forced himself to suppress his wildly beating heartbeat, held his breath and focused, until he confirmed that the voice coming from the microphone was not the northern accent he had expected.

Zhao Guodong seemed to have sensed his anxiety.

After returning from an inspection of the workshop, Zhao Guodong took off his cotton-padded coat and his gaze lingered on Yang Guangming's face for a moment.

The dark circles under the bright sunlight and the forced composure did not escape the factory manager's notice.

"How many days has it been since the manuscript was sent out?" Zhao Guodong asked casually, his voice carrying the steady tone characteristic of a Beijing native.

"It's been four days, Factory Manager." Yang Guangming took the coat, which smelled of dust and machine oil typical of the workshop, and carefully hung it up, his voice as steady as possible.

"Ah."

Zhao Guodong walked to the window and looked down at the bustling factory area. Cotton bale trucks shuttled back and forth, and an exciting song was playing on the loudspeaker: "Airmail should be here soon, stay calm."

He didn't say much, but the trust and certainty contained in his brief words acted like a shot of adrenaline, easing Yang Guangming's tense nerves slightly.

On the afternoon of the fourth day of anxious waiting, near the end of the workday.

The air in the office was stuffy and stagnant, while cicadas chirped tirelessly in the sycamore trees outside the window.

Yang Guangming was busy organizing materials for tomorrow's factory meeting, his pen scratching across the paper.

The black telephone, which had been silent for several days, suddenly burst into a sharp and urgent ringing!
"Ring ring ring—!"

The sound was exceptionally loud in the suddenly quiet office, like a lightning bolt cleaving through the stagnant air.

Yang Guangming stood up abruptly almost reflexively, causing the chair legs to scrape against the cement floor with a screeching sound.

He rushed to the telephone, took a deep breath, and then steadily picked up the receiver, his voice as calm as if he were at work: "Hello, this is the office of Deputy Factory Director Zhao Guodong."

"Hello, is this the Hongxing State-owned Cotton Mill?" The voice on the other end of the phone had a familiar, crisp northern accent; it was none other than Editor Zhang from the Workers' Daily, the same person from last time!
Yang Guangming's heart pounded like a drum, a surge of heat rushed to his head, and his ears rang.

He subconsciously straightened his back, his voice trembling slightly but still clear and strong: "Yes, Editor Zhang, hello! I am Yang Guangming, the secretary of Factory Director Zhao Guodong."

He felt his palms instantly become slippery, and he could barely hold the heavy receiver.

"Oh, Comrade Yang Guangming!" Editor Zhang's voice clearly conveyed a sense of familiarity and enthusiasm, obviously impressed by this young man who had recently published an important article in his newspaper. "Your manuscript has been received! Express airmail, that's fast! We just got it recently."

Yang Guangming held his breath, feeling as if the air around him had frozen, leaving only the voice coming from the microphone and his own heart pounding like a drum.

"Our editorial team has reviewed the articles you submitted this time," Editor Zhang said, his tone becoming serious and filled with undisguised admiration. "They are exceptionally well-written! Very solid! Very moving!"

The three consecutive "very"s were like three heavy bombs, exploding in Yang Guangming's mind, making his heart jump up and almost jump out of his throat!

"Especially the article 'The Old Chinese Medicine Doctor Next to the Machine' about Li Gensheng, a fine yarn maintenance worker, and the article 'The Abacus Master by the Sizing Vault' about Sun Fugui, a sizing worker."

The characters are vividly portrayed, their ordinary deeds are accurately depicted, and the film is highly thought-provoking, perfectly aligning with the current direction of our propaganda!
Zhao Jinfeng, a textile worker, also vividly described her work, "The 'Woven Hands' in the Loom's Alley," showcasing the exquisite skills and vibrant spirit of female textile workers in the new era!

Editor Zhang spoke quickly, his voice brimming with excitement, "Our editorial department has unanimously decided to accept all three of the manuscripts you submitted!"

Boom! An immense joy, like a surging wave, instantly and completely engulfed Yang Guangming!
Three articles! All accepted!
He could almost hear the sound of his blood rushing through his veins.

It worked! It really worked!
"Thank you, Editor Zhang! Thank you to the editorial department for your recognition!"

Yang Guangming suppressed the excitement that was about to burst from his throat, his voice filled with great surprise, "These are the true brilliance of our ordinary workers at the Hongxing Factory, and I just recorded them."

"Yes, it's really well written!" Editor Zhang affirmed.

His voice was tinged with laughter, "We will arrange for these three articles to be published in the later pages, and we will try our best to publish them as soon as possible."

Your last article was very well received, and with three of them published in quick succession, the effect is sure to be even more sensational! This is a rare treat to see such a large collection of excellent articles!

"That's wonderful! Thank you so much, Editor Zhang! Thank you!"

Sunshine Ming's heart almost soared.

No more lengthy background checks! Time! Precious time is saved to the greatest extent possible!
Factory Director Zhao Guodong's requested window of opportunity has been secured!

"Okay, that's settled then. Just wait for our newspaper! Goodbye, Comrade Yang Guangming, we look forward to more great articles from you in the future!" Editor Zhang cheerfully ended the call.

Goodbye, Editor Zhang! Thank you!

When Yang Guangming put down the receiver, he realized that his hands were trembling slightly, and the back of his shirt was soaked with sweat, clinging to his body in a cool, damp way.

After the immense ecstasy came a near-exhausting ease and an even more intense excitement, as if the blood in my body was flowing joyfully.

It's done! Three articles!
A major national newspaper! Published continuously!

He knew exactly what this meant.

He barely hesitated for a moment before raising his hand to wipe his face vigorously, taking a few deep breaths, and tidying up his excited mood and slightly disheveled collar and cuffs.

Then, he walked to the door of Zhao Guodong's office in the inner room, stood still, raised his hand, and gently tapped with his knuckles.

"Come in." Zhao Guodong's steady voice rang out, carrying his usual authority. Yang Guangming pushed open the door and entered. Zhao Guodong was bent over an open equipment drawing, his brows slightly furrowed, intently marking something with red and blue pencils, a wisp of smoke rising from the enamel ashtray on his desk.

"Factory Director!" Yang Guangming's voice was filled with barely suppressed excitement, yet he tried his best to keep his report clear and organized. "Editor Zhang from the Workers' Daily is calling!"

Upon hearing the sound, Zhao Guodong abruptly raised his head, his sharp gaze shooting out like lightning, instantly catching the dazzling light in Yang Guangming's eyes that could not be completely concealed and the blush that had not yet faded from his face.

He put down his pencil, leaned forward slightly, and asked in a steady voice that carried an undisguised expectation: "How so?" The air in the office seemed to tense up instantly.

"It's done, Factory Manager!"

Yang Guangming's voice rose slightly with excitement, his speech quickened, and every word was filled with exhilaration: "Editor Zhang said that all three articles I submitted have been reviewed and approved by the editorial department, and they have all been decided to be published! They will be published consecutively in the next few days! All three will be published!"

"Good! Good! Good!"

Zhao Guodong slammed his hand on the table, making a dull thud that made the teacup lid jump.

His face instantly broke into an undisguised, extremely rare, radiant smile, and even his habitually slightly furrowed brows completely relaxed.

"Good lad! Well done! Three articles! Featured in the Workers' Daily in a row!"
This is no ordinary achievement! This is absolutely phenomenal!

His voice was loud and clear, filled with heartfelt praise and joy.

He abruptly stood up, paced back and forth behind his desk a couple of times, his steps light and triumphant, his eyes gleaming with shrewdness and sharpness.

"Guangming, those shots you fired were incredibly accurate and powerful! You've really brought honor to our Hongxing Factory! And you've made me, Zhao Guodong, proud!"

He stopped, his gaze fixed intently on Yang Guangming, with a solemn promise in his eyes:

"Just wait patiently for it to be published! Once these three articles are officially published, it will be in black and white, a done deal!"
I will immediately formally request the implementation of your reward at the next factory committee meeting!
The factory committee's last resolution was clearly stated in the official document, and no one could find fault with it!

His tone was resolute, full of confidence that he was in control of the situation.

Yang Guangming straightened his back immediately and nodded vigorously: "Thank you, Factory Director! I will definitely continue to work hard!"

Zhao Guodong took a step closer, lowering his voice, which carried a heartfelt tone that only the two of them could hear:
"Guangming, you got all three of your papers right again this time. Adding the previous one, you've exceeded the factory's requirement of three papers!"
Although the resolution didn't explicitly state how the rewards for additional publications would be calculated, it's all up to us!

His eyes shone brightly, revealing a profound meaning: "You have made such a great contribution and won such a great honor for our factory. The factory will never treat a meritorious person unfairly!"

At that time, I will argue my case at the meeting and apply for a larger apartment for you!
The reward must be commensurate with the contribution! Do you understand what I mean?

Larger living space!
Yang Guangming's heart skipped a beat, then was filled with immense surprise and warmth.

what does this mean?
It means saying goodbye to cramped cubicles and having your own private space. In an era of extremely tight housing and several generations crammed into one room, this is simply a dream come true! It's a qualitative leap in life!
"Understood! Factory Director! Thank you so much!" Yang Guangming's gratitude was palpable.

He knew the weight of Zhao Guodong's words and understood that it was Zhao Guodong expressing his high regard for him and his promise for the future in another way.

This is not just a house, but the highest recognition of his ability and value.

"Okay, stay calm and wait for good news."

Zhao Guodong nodded in satisfaction, a confident air on his face. He sat back down in his chair, picked up the red and blue pencils, and said, "This top-down propaganda campaign has really caught our attention. Your article is the wings on that wave; the higher it flies, the better!"

In the days that followed, Yang Ming spent his time in a mixture of anticipation, excitement, and a touch of pride.

Zhao Guodong's words were like a reassuring pill, weighing heavily on his heart, relieving him of his anxiety about the implementation of the reward.

He could wait more patiently for that glorious moment to arrive, for the printed words in the newspaper to become the key to a new life.

Inside the factory, some well-informed people seemed to have found out something in advance.

The workshop foremen looked at him with more scrutiny and politeness; the coworkers he met in the corridor seemed to greet him louder, with curiosity in their voices; even the canteen auntie serving him seemed to scoop more oily food than usual.

The gazes directed at him became more complex: some were filled with envy, some with admiration, some with curious scrutiny, and some with a subtle sense of scrutiny.

Yang Guangming tried his best to remain humble and low-key as usual, but the irrepressible joy in his heart made his steps much lighter than usual.

As Editor Zhang had predicted, the efficiency of the Workers' Daily was indeed astonishingly high.

September 18th, early morning.

After playing the majestic "The East Is Red" melody from the factory's loudspeakers, there was a brief pause, and then the announcer's familiar and excited voice once again resounded throughout the factory, piercing through the roar of the machines:
"Fellow factory workers! Great news! Irremarkable good news!"

The article by Yang Guangming, secretary to Zhao Guodong, deputy factory director of our factory, has been published again in today's Workers' Daily!

The title is: "The 'Old Chinese Medicine Doctor' by the Machine: A Record of the Auscultation Skills of Li Gensheng, a Fine Yarn Maintenance Worker!"
This is a high tribute to the spirit of our factory's working class in their technical research and dedication to their posts!

Let us learn from Comrade Li Gensheng, and also congratulate Comrade Yang Guangming!

Instantly, the spinning workshop became the focus of attention.

The huge spinning machine rumbled loudly, and the spinning spindles looked like a silver forest.

Master Li Gensheng, who was examining a spinning machine, had his ear almost pressed against the machine casing. When he heard his name and nickname on the radio, his weathered, expressionless face, like an old block of wood, was first taken aback, then quickly turned red, even the roots of his ears turned bright red.

He instinctively tried to shrink back, avoiding the spotlight-like stares and well-meaning laughter from his fellow workers, but he was so clumsy that he almost tripped over the oil pipe under his feet.

A young security guard patted him on the back with a big laugh and shouted in heavily accented Shanghai Mandarin, "Master Li! 'Old Chinese Medicine Doctor'! It's in the news! The whole country knows about your skills! Amazing! Absolutely amazing!"

The surrounding workers also gathered around, offering their congratulations in unison.

Li Gensheng's lips trembled, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't, finally managing to squeeze out only a few words: "No...no...what's there to write..."

But the slightly trembling hand, unconsciously stroking the cold casing that had just been "listened to," and the fleeting moisture in his eyes, revealed the enormous turmoil churning within him.

His decades of quiet dedication were now bestowed with unparalleled glory, like a belated ray of sunshine illuminating his oil-stained work clothes.

He felt a lump in his throat, cleared his throat forcefully, bent down, and examined the machine more carefully, as if only in this way could he calm the turmoil in his heart.

September 19th.

The loudspeaker blared on time, the sound even louder than yesterday:

"Fellow workers of the factory! Another piece of good news!"
Comrade Yang Guangming's article has been published in the Workers' Daily again!
The title is: "The 'Abacus Master' by the Sizing Vault: A Record of Veteran Worker Sun Fugui's Frugality Practices!"
Comrade Sun Fugui's spirit of practicing thrift and meticulous budgeting serves as a model for all employees of our factory! Once again, I extend my warmest congratulations to Comrade Yang Guangming!

The preparation workshop's sizing process immediately erupted into chaos.

The huge sizing vat was steaming with hot, humid vapor, and the air was filled with the distinctive smell of starch slurry.

"Old Man Sun! Old Man Sun has reported it!"

"Listen to this! I'll tell you how you save on pulp and save the country money!"

"'Abacus Master'! Haha, this nickname has been reported, you're going to be famous! The whole country will know you're good at calculating!"

The workers surrounded Sun Fugui, who was recording the temperature in a small notebook. He looked a little embarrassed but couldn't hide his pride, and they teased him all at once.

Sun Fugui rubbed his hands together, chuckling, revealing a set of teeth stained yellow from smoking:

“Saving is earning, that’s how we’ve been taught in our family since we were little…”

When the radio mentioned his catchphrase, "Even a large family and a big business can't afford to squander it," the entire process erupted in good-natured laughter. Sun Fugui himself couldn't help but grin, his eyes narrowing into slits with laughter.

He felt that his "stingy" habits and his "nitpicking" that were occasionally ridiculed by others had received such solemn recognition from the national level for the first time.

He subconsciously touched the abacus beads in his pocket, and his back straightened up involuntarily.

September 20th.

The broadcast was filled with unprecedented fervor, almost a shout:

"Fellow workers of the factory! More good news! A third consecutive piece of good news!"

Comrade Yang Guangming's article has been published in the Workers' Daily for the third consecutive day!
The title is: "The 'Woven Hand' in the Loom Alley: A Story of 10,000 Meters of Flawless Fabric by Loom Worker Zhao Jinfeng!"
Comrade Zhao Jinfeng's quick eyes, sharp hands, and meticulous operating skills demonstrate the heroic spirit and high sense of responsibility of our factory's female textile workers, who are "half the sky"!

Let us pay tribute to Comrade Zhao Jinfeng! And extend our warmest congratulations to Comrade Yang Guangming!

The roar of the loom workshop seemed to have subsided somewhat.

Hundreds of looms roared in unison, their shuttles flashing like lightning.

Zhao Jinfeng, who was flitting among the rapidly operating machines like a butterfly among flowers with her sharp eyes, suddenly stopped in her tracks when she heard her name and the title "Flower-Walking Hand" on the broadcast. Two red clouds instantly appeared on her face, as if she had applied rouge.

The women around her immediately dropped what they were doing and excitedly gathered around.

"Sister Jin Feng! You're in the news! 'The Flower-Walking Hand'! What a lovely name!"

"Ten thousand meters of flawless fabric! The whole country knows you're a top-notch sewing machine operator!"

"They really make us female workers proud!"

Several female workers who were usually close to her excitedly grabbed her hands and chattered away.

Zhao Jinfeng was both surprised and delighted, her eyes slightly reddening. Looking at her hands, which were rough from years of labor and had slightly deformed joints but were still exceptionally flexible and strong, she was speechless for a moment.

She just nodded vigorously, unable to suppress the upward curve of her lips.

The radio broadcast described how she skillfully and quickly dealt with malfunctions in the alleyway where the loom was located. It made her feel as if she could see her countless days and nights of hard work, those moments of backache, and the guilt of neglecting her children. All of these were captured in this glorious newspaper and turned into shining medals.

She raised her hand to smooth the hair that was stuck to her forehead with sweat, her gaze becoming more focused on the fabric where the shuttle was flying across the surface.

Three consecutive days! Three reports!
Three ordinary workers from the Red Star Factory had their names, nicknames, and stories featured in the national newspaper, the Workers' Daily!
Like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, the entire Hongxing State-owned Cotton Mill was in an uproar!
A sense of pride, honor, and glory surged within the hearts of every worker at the Red Star Factory, like molten lava.

"Three days! Three days! Workers' Daily! What does that even mean? This young man, Yang Guangming, is truly remarkable! Amazing!"

"Li Gensheng, Sun Fugui, Zhao Jinfeng... people I see in the workshop every day, they've been reported in the newspaper! They're famous all over the country! I'm so excited just thinking about it!"

"Yang Guangming's article is really well written! Especially well! He vividly portrays the spirit of our workers! It makes my blood boil!"

"Publishing three articles in a national-level newspaper and directly obtaining housing allocation eligibility...tsk tsk tsk, I wouldn't even dare to dream of that! That's quite an achievement!"

"They're truly talented! Their writing has even reached the capital! There's no use in being envious!"

"Factory Director Zhao Guodong knows how to use people! He's struck gold with this secretary! He has a good eye!"

"Our Hongxing Factory really made a splash this time! We're standing tall and proud when we go out! Other factories must be so envious!"

The worker featured in the news became a star in the factory, walking with an air of confidence, and his fellow workers would greet him warmly whenever they saw him.

Yang Guangming's name is like a legend, repeatedly mentioned in every corner of the workshop, canteen, bathhouse, and dormitory.

As he walked along the tree-lined path in the factory area, he could clearly feel the gazes directed at him from all directions—curiosity, inquiry, and, more importantly, undisguised amazement and envy.

He even overheard two female workers who had just finished their night shift talking: "Look, it's him, Yang Guangming, featured in the Workers' Daily for three consecutive days! He's incredibly capable! I heard he's getting a big apartment!"

Yang Guangming didn't stop walking, but only quickened his pace slightly. His face remained calm, but the heavy joy and sense of accomplishment in his heart were like the warm sun baking him.

Zhao Guodong stood in front of the window of his office, with his back to the door and his hands in his pockets.

The excited chatter of workers on the tree-lined path downstairs could be faintly heard.

A deep and extremely satisfied smile curved his lips as he surveyed the vibrant factory area under his jurisdiction.

The results far exceeded expectations!
These three initiatives by Yang Guangming not only enhanced the reputation of the Hongxing Factory, making the name "Hongxing" known throughout the country through the Workers' Daily, but also promoted the work he spearheaded and promoted—"technological innovation," "ownership spirit," and "diligence and thrift"—to the whole country in the most dazzling and irrefutable way, making it a model among models!

These three substantial articles, like three heavy, gleaming golden bricks, have paved a more solid, dazzling, and impeccable path for Zhao Guodong to reach higher positions.

His deep gaze was directed toward the factory committee office building, beneath which lay a grander plan.

The wind has been borrowed!
Yang Guangming sat in his seat, opening his palms and then slowly clenching them. His heart was surging with emotion, but even more so with a sense of peace and anticipation after everything had settled down.

The four articles, like four bullets that hit their target precisely, were a perfect match.

The steps leading to an independent dwelling and a new life are now clearly visible, within reach and close at hand.

He could almost see the bright windows of his new home and smell the freshly painted walls.

(End of this chapter)