Major Heavy Industry: Starting with a Fake Marriage

When Jiang Cheng returned home, Jiang Yuan was already asleep. The little guy was lying on his side, face inward, the blanket kicked up to his feet, revealing two chubby little feet with five toes spread out like five small pebbles. He squatted down and pulled the blanket up to cover the little guy's feet. The little guy whimpered, rolled over, face outward, mouth slightly open, breathing evenly. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at his son for a long time. Jiang Yuan's face was round, his nose small, and his eyelashes long, like two small fans, casting a small shadow on his cheeks. When he was asleep, he was like a little animal, defenseless, giving you his whole self, unafraid that you would hurt him.

He reached out and gently touched his son's cheek. His skin was smooth and soft, like a freshly peeled egg, or a spring flower petal. Jiang Yuan stirred, nestled into his hand like a kitten seeking warmth, and then fell into a deep sleep again.

He stood up, walked to the table, turned on the lamp, took out his notebook, and began to write. He was writing an English textbook for Sun Deming. He started with the basics—letters, phonetics, and simple words. A, apple. B, book. C, cat. He wrote the Chinese meaning for each word and then drew a simple picture. For apple, he drew a circle with a stem; for book, a rectangle; for cat, a round face with two triangular ears. He wrote slowly, tracing each letter several times, afraid that Sun Deming wouldn't be able to see it clearly. The lamplight shone brightly on the paper.

He wrote one page, turned the page, and wrote another. When he reached the third page, there was a knock at the door. He looked up; Zheng Yanxi stood in the doorway, wearing a white lab coat and carrying a bag. She looked tired, with dark circles under her eyes, but her eyes were bright, like two stars.

"Why are you back? Weren't you on the night shift?"

"The shift has changed. Nurse Wang told me to come back and rest, saying she would cover for me. She said I was too tired yesterday and told me to go home early today."

She came in, took off her white coat, and hung it behind the door. She walked to the crib, looked at Jiang Yuan, lowered her head, and kissed his forehead. When her lips touched his forehead, the little guy stirred, smacked his lips, mumbled something, turned over, and fell into a deep sleep again.

"How was your day?" Jiang Cheng asked.

She walked over and sat down next to him, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes. The lamplight shone on her face, softening her features. Her hair peeked out from under her hat, clinging to her ears, with a few strands falling beside her cheeks, swaying gently with her breath.

"It's alright. A patient with a heart attack came in and was resuscitated. He was in ventricular fibrillation and needed two defibrillators to come back to life. During the second defibrillation, I wasn't sure what would happen if he didn't come back. But he did." She opened her eyes and looked at him. "His family members knelt on the ground and kowtowed to me. I couldn't even pull them up. A grown man in his forties, kneeling on the ground, his head hitting the floor with a thud."

Jiang Cheng looked at her. There was an indescribable light in her eyes—not tiredness, not excitement, but something deeper, like a lamp, not big, but very bright, warming people's hearts.

"Yanxi, are you tired?"

"Tired. But at peace." She looked at him. "And you? How's it going in Changchun?"

"Sun Deming did a good job. He handled it all by himself without asking me for help."

She nodded and didn't ask any more questions. She stood up, went into the kitchen, poured a glass of water, took a sip, poured another glass, and handed it to Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng took it and drank a sip. The water was warm, with tea leaves in it, a little bitter, but with a hint of sweetness after the bitterness.

"Jiang Cheng," she suddenly said, "I want to talk to you about something."

"What is it?"

"I want to go to medical school."

Jiang Cheng was taken aback. Taking the medical school entrance exam? That wasn't a nursing title, it was a doctor's title. She, a nurse, taking the medical school entrance exam? He looked at her; her expression was serious, not joking. Her eyes were fixed on him, without flinching or hesitation.

"Yanxi, aren't you a nurse? Can nurses take the medical school entrance exam?"

"Yes. Adult college entrance exam. If you pass, you can study there. It takes three years, and you'll get a college diploma, which allows you to take the medical licensing exam. I've heard that several nurses at the city hospital took the exam that way, and now they're all doctors." Her voice was calm, as if she were talking about something she had already decided.

Jiang Cheng remained silent for a while. He knew she wasn't acting on impulse.

She was always reading and learning. From a nurse at the factory's medical station to a nurse in the city hospital's emergency room, and then to wanting to go to medical school to become a doctor—every step she took was difficult, but she took each step very steadily. There were already more than a dozen medical books stacked in the cabinet, each one worn and frayed from being turned over, with lines drawn in red pen and annotations written on the pages.

She wanted to keep up with him; she didn't want to fall too far behind him.

"Go. I support you."

She looked at him, her eyes a little red, but she didn't cry.

She lowered her head, picked up the glass, and drank the rest of the water. Water spilled from the glass and dribbled down the corner of her mouth; she wiped it with her sleeve.

Outside the window, the moon peeked out from behind the clouds, shining on the cactus on the windowsill. The little sprout next to it had grown a bit more, tender green, with two small leaves, like a pair of outstretched hands, as if asking for something, or as if receiving something.

BJ called on a rainy afternoon.

In Shenyang in July, the rain comes suddenly. The morning was sunny, the sun softening the asphalt, but by midday, the sky darkened, low-hanging clouds like a gray cloth draped over the city. Then the rain began, without any of the earlier drizzle; it was a downpour, raindrops splashing white against the ground and pounding on the poplar leaves with a loud patter. Jiang Cheng stood by the laboratory window, watching the water in the courtyard rise little by little, overflowing the concrete steps and reaching the threshold. Rainwater streamed down from the eaves like a curtain, shutting out the outside world.

When the phone rang, he was squatting in front of an old grinding machine, discussing a technical issue with Huang Deqing.

The grinding machine was delivered by the factory. The spindle was seized. When it was taken apart, the bearings were burnt and discolored, and deep grooves were pulled out on the spindle journal.

Huang Deqing squatted down beside him, holding a micrometer, measuring again and again, his brows furrowed into a knot.

"Chengzi, this spindle is ruined. The wear is too great; even plating can't salvage it."

Jiang Cheng leaned closer to take a look. There was a deep scratch on the spindle journal; you could feel a distinct groove when you touched it. The micrometer reading was 0.15 millimeters smaller than the standard size, exceeding the repair limit of the coating. He stood up, dusted off his hands, and was about to speak when the phone rang.