Major Heavy Industry: Starting with a Fake Marriage

In the afternoon, he called Director Zhang. It was a long-distance call, so he had to dial 0 first, then the area code, and then the number. He dialed twice before it went through.

"Director Zhang, this is Jiang Cheng from Shenyang."

"Xiao Jiang, what's up?" There was the sound of documents being flipped through on the other end of the phone.

"The provincial department has a document regarding qualification certification, which will be discussed next week. I would like to ask you to keep an eye on it. I'm worried that the standards might be set too strictly, or that someone might tamper with the process during the review."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. Jiang Cheng heard Director Zhang's breathing, very light. "I understand. You can go to Beijing without worry. I'll keep an eye on things here. Your project is important, don't get distracted."

After hanging up the phone, Jiang Cheng stood by the window, looking at the sky outside. The sky was very blue, the clouds were very white, and an airplane flew past below the clouds, invisible, only its sound could be heard. The sound grew closer and then faded away, until finally nothing could be heard at all. There was dust on the windowpane, so he wiped it with his hand, creating a clean circle. Looking out from there, the sky appeared even bluer.

That evening, Zheng Yanxi was organizing her exam supplies. She carefully placed her admission ticket, ID card, pencils, eraser, and watch into a canvas bag. She did this slowly, checking each item after she put it in. The corner of her admission ticket was folded; she smoothed it out, then it folded again, and she smoothed it out again. She repeated this three times until finally it was straight.

"Don't be nervous," Jiang Cheng said.

"I'm not nervous."

"You've checked it three times already, this is the fourth time."

She paused for a moment, then smiled. It was a faint but genuine smile, like someone finally admitting they were afraid. "Okay, I'm a little nervous."

"Jiang Cheng, do you think I can pass the exam?"

"able."

How did you know?

"Because you never gave up." He paused. "From the factory medical station to the city hospital, from a nurse to taking the medical exam, every step you took was difficult. But you made it through. Not by luck, but by yourself."

She looked at him, her eyes a little red. But she didn't cry. She lowered her head, zipped up her canvas bag, and placed it on the chair. The sound of the zipper closing was particularly clear in the quiet room.

"The exam is at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. I have to leave at seven o'clock."

"I send you."

She nodded.

The next morning, Jiang Cheng rode his bicycle to take Zheng Yanxi to the examination venue. The examination venue was located at the SY City Health School, not far from the factory, a twenty-minute bike ride away. Jiang Yuan had left the exam room at Zheng's mother's house and hadn't brought it with him.

The morning breeze was cool, and it smelled of dew on my face. There weren't many pedestrians on the road. An old man selling tofu pudding pushed his cart from the opposite direction, and steam rose from the gaps in the wooden bucket lid, white and floating in the air.

When I arrived at the exam hall, there were already many people there. Some were reading, some were chatting, and some were lost in thought. A middle-aged man was squatting in the corner smoking, and he didn't even bother to brush off the ashes that were scattered all over the floor.

A young woman was holding a folder, her lips moving as if she were memorizing something, very intently, her eyes closed. Zheng Yanxi got out of the car, straightened her clothes, turned around, and looked at Jiang Cheng.

"Go back now."

"I'm waiting for you."

"No need. The exam will last all morning."

"I'm waiting for you."

She looked at him but didn't say anything more.

She turned around and walked into the examination room.

She walked to the door, stopped, glanced back at him, and then went inside. The door closed behind her with a soft "click."

Jiang Cheng stood outside the examination hall, leaning against his bicycle, without lighting a cigarette. He had his hands in his pockets, staring at the closed door. Sunlight streamed down from the rooftop, illuminating the sign for the examination hall—"SY City Health School."

Some of the white paint on the sign had peeled off, revealing the wood underneath, its grain clearly visible. He glanced at his watch—8:10. The exam had already begun.

He didn't know how she did on the exam. He didn't know how difficult the questions were. He didn't know if she was nervous. But he knew she would do her best. Not because he was waiting for her there, but because of her own decision, or rather, her own belief.

What you keep in mind will surely resonate.

He leaned against his bicycle and stood outside the examination hall for the entire morning.

Zheng Yanxi took the exam for two consecutive days.

The first day's exams were Chinese in the morning and Math in the afternoon. The second day's exams were English in the morning and Medical Comprehensive in the afternoon. Jiang Cheng went to see him off both days, waiting outside the exam hall each time. On the first day, he brought a book, Huang Deqing's well-worn "Fitter's Technology," but after flipping through a few pages, he couldn't absorb a single word. It wasn't that he couldn't understand it; his mind wasn't on it.

His eyes were fixed on the pages of the book, but his mind was on Zheng Yanxi in the exam hall—was she nervous? Did she encounter any questions she couldn't answer? What was the essay topic? What time did she study until last night? He closed the book, stuffed it back into his pocket, and paced back and forth outside the exam hall several times.

He stepped on a sycamore leaf, which was already dry and rustled under his feet. He glanced down at it; the edges of the leaf were curled, like the wrinkled skin on the back of a withered hand.

The next day, he brought nothing with him and just stood outside the examination hall, watching the leaves of the sycamore tree fall one by one.

The sycamore trees in Shenyang are different from those in Beijing; their leaves are larger and fall more slowly, swirling in the air before finally landing on the ground. He squatted down and picked up a leaf; its veins were clearly visible, like a map.

He held the leaf in his palm, turning it over and over several times, then put it back on the ground. The sun moved from east to west, and his shadow moved from west to east. In between, he went to the restroom twice, bought a bottle of soda, drank it, and returned the bottle to the vendor. The vendor said the bottle deposit was one cent, but he said he didn't need the change, and the vendor still gave him the money.

The next afternoon, during the last exam, Zheng Yanxi emerged from the exam hall just as darkness was falling. She walked slowly through the crowd, her face expressionless. Some of the other examinees were laughing, some were crying, and some were checking their answers in small groups.

She walked alone in the middle, neither laughing nor crying, not comparing answers with anyone, just walking forward. When she reached Jiang Cheng, she handed him her canvas bag and said, "The exam's over."

"How is it?"

"I don't know." She paused for a moment. "Let's wait for the results."

She didn't say "You did well" or "You failed." She simply handed him the canvas bag, then stood next to him, watching the crowd at the exam hall entrance slowly disperse.

A girl was squatting on the steps, crying, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Another girl patted her back beside her, saying, "It's okay, it's okay." A boy tore up his exam admission ticket, threw it in the trash can, took a few steps, then came back to pick it up, carefully pulling the pieces out of the trash can one by one, and squatting on the ground to piece them back together. Zheng Yanxi watched those people without saying a word. Jiang Cheng didn't know what she was thinking either. He just stood beside her, not urging her to leave.

"Let's go," Jiang Cheng said.

"Um."

The two walked back along the road. The streetlights were already on, their orange glow illuminating the sycamore trees, making the leaves appear translucent, their veins as clear as blood vessels. There weren't many people on the road. An old man selling roasted sweet potatoes pushed his cart from the opposite direction, steam rising from the stove on his cart, the aroma of sweet potatoes wafting over—sweet and warm.