Major Heavy Industry: Starting with a Fake Marriage

Snowflakes landed on their hair and shoulders, melting quickly. She reached out and touched his face. Her fingers were cool, but gentle.

"Let's go," he said.

"Um."

They walked out of the station and boarded the bus back to the factory. The bus wasn't crowded, and they sat in the last row. Jiang Cheng leaned against the window, looking at the street scene outside. Shenyang was still the same Shenyang—gray buildings, potholed roads, and slow-moving buses. But he felt a sense of familiarity. The small shops along the road were lit up, steam rising from the cracks in the doors, and the aroma of steamed buns wafted over, mingled with the scent of snow.

"Yanxi, has your acceptance letter arrived?"

"It's here. I received it yesterday." She took a brown paper envelope out of her bag and handed it to him. "Open it and take a look."

Jiang Cheng took the envelope and opened it. The envelope was sealed with glue, and he tore it crookedly, also tearing a small hole in the admission notice inside. Inside was an admission notice, white with red lettering, which read, "Comrade Zheng Yanxi, after review, you have been admitted as a student of our school's medical program." The official seal of Shenyang Medical College was stamped at the bottom, bright red, and the date was November 20th. He read the notice twice, folded it carefully, and put it back in the envelope.

Are you happy?

She looked at him, her eyes holding a light that wasn't tears, but something deeper than tears. That light was warm, like the embers slowly burning out of a hearth in winter.

"Happy."

Upon arriving at the factory, Jiang Cheng went to the center first. The center's main gate was open, and the sign at the entrance was spotless, white with black lettering. Han Zhiguo was in his office. Seeing him enter, he stood up, walked over, and shook his hand.

"Jiang Cheng, you're back? Congratulations!" A genuine smile spread across his face.

Jiang Cheng was a little confused. Shouldn't he ask, "How's it going in Beijing?"

"That kid Sun Deming called me a while ago, eagerly telling me that the project was a success and the thermal cycling test had passed. Anyone who didn't know the situation would think it was a project he was in charge of."

Han Zhiguo laughed heartily, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkling together like an open fan. When he laughed, he revealed his upper teeth, one of which was an inlay, its color a bit darker than the others.

"I can't believe you actually made the project a success in Beijing!"

Han Zhiguo patted Jiang Cheng's shoulder hard, making it ache. Then he patted it again, this time less forcefully. "Good! Good!" he said twice, walked to the window, and opened it. A cold wind rushed in, but he didn't close it. Snowflakes drifted in and landed on his hair.

"Director Han, what's the status of that document from the provincial department?"

Han Zhiguo turned around, his smile fading slightly. He walked back to the table, sat down, picked up the teacup, but didn't drink from it before putting it down again.

"The document has been approved. The standards aren't set too high, and our center meets the requirements. The review panel will be coming next month, and I've already prepared the materials; there shouldn't be any problems. The review panel consists of three people: two from other provinces and one from our province. The one from our province is from the Provincial Bureau of Quality and Technical Supervision; I don't know him."

Where is Zhou Chuanming?

"He's been transferred. He's been transferred to the Provincial Science and Technology Association as deputy director. It's a demotion in name only, he's no longer in charge. He didn't say goodbye to anyone when he left, the office door was locked, and he handed the key to the office."

Jiang Cheng remained silent for a while.

He was transferred. He thought there would be some kind of resolution—a conversation, a confrontation, even an argument. But nothing happened. Zhou Chuanming simply left, like a leaf falling from a tree and being blown away by the wind. Without a sound, without a trace.

"Jiang Cheng, what are you thinking about?"

"It's nothing. Director Han, I'll be in Beijing when the review panel arrives. I might not make it in time."

"It's alright. I've prepared all the materials; I can handle it myself. You should go to Beijing; things there are more important."

After leaving the center, Jiang Cheng went to Zheng's mother's house. The door of Zheng's mother's house was green, the paint was peeling off, revealing the wood underneath. He knocked on the door and heard footsteps inside, then Jiang Yuan's voice, and then Zheng's mother's voice—"Coming, coming."

The door opened. Jiang Yuan stood in the middle of the living room, a pile of building blocks—red, green, and yellow—spread on the floor, forming a crooked tower. He was wearing a blue cotton-padded jacket, a size too big, the sleeves rolled up twice, revealing a red thermal undershirt underneath. Seeing Jiang Cheng enter, he paused for a moment, then dropped the blocks and ran towards him. He ran very fast, arms outstretched to his shoulders, like a small airplane. He tripped, stumbled a step, steadied himself, and continued running.

"Dad—" he cried out, throwing himself onto Jiang Cheng's lap. He hugged Jiang Cheng's legs with both hands and buried his face in his knees.

Jiang Cheng squatted down, picked him up, and lifted him above his head. The little guy laughed, a clear, crisp laugh like someone tapping a small bell. When he laughed, he showed four teeth, two on top and two on the bottom, all neatly aligned. There was a wide gap between his front teeth, like a door that wasn't closed properly.

"Dad—" he called again, wrapping his arms around Jiang Cheng's neck and burying his face in his shoulder. His hair brushed against Jiang Cheng's chin, tickling him.

Jiang Cheng carried him and walked around the room. The little guy was restless, sometimes pulling his ear, sometimes grabbing his hair, and sometimes pointing at the apple on the table and making "ah ah" noises. The apple was red and placed on a white porcelain plate, with a few oranges next to it.

"That's an apple," Jiang Cheng said.

"Guo—" the little guy imitated. It was a first sound, drawn out.

"apple--"

The word "apple" was spoken separately, with a one-second interval between them. The "apple" was drawn out very long, while the "fruit" was very short, as if it had been cut in half.

When Zheng's mother came out of the kitchen with the dishes, she saw the father and son and smiled. She was wearing a floral cotton-padded jacket, her hair was even whiter, and the wrinkles on her face were deeper. "When you weren't here, he would point to the door and call for his father every day. He did this for more than a month, and it broke my heart. The first thing he said when he woke up in the morning was 'Dad,' and the last thing he said before he went to sleep at night was 'Dad.' One night, he woke up in the middle of the night and cried twice. When I went to check on him, he was pointing at your picture on the wall, calling out 'Dad, Dad.'"

Jiang Cheng held Jiang Yuan in his arms and sat down at the dining table.

Zheng Yanxi went to the kitchen to help serve the dishes. Steam was rising from the stove, and the sound of the spatula hitting the iron pot was crisp.

After dinner, Jiang Cheng helped Zheng Yanxi pack her luggage. She was going to medical school next month and would be living in the school dormitory, returning home once a week. He took her things out of the closet and laid them out on the bed one by one: bedding, sheets, pillowcases, washbasin, towels, toothbrush holder, change of clothes, and medical books.

"Have you brought everything?" he asked.

"I've brought everything. Books, notebooks, clothes, and a blanket. The school provides sheets and pillows, so you don't need to bring those."

Jiang Cheng glanced at the two large bags on the ground, one a canvas bag and the other a burlap sack, both bulging with contents. "How are you going to carry all this stuff?"

"You take me there."

Jiang Cheng was taken aback. "Me?"

"Didn't you say you weren't going to Beijing until next month? You can give me a ride to school on your way." Her tone was flat, as if she were saying something perfectly natural.

Jiang Cheng thought for a moment. The medical school was in the south of the city, an hour's bus ride away—not too far, not too close. He nodded.

That night, after Jiang Yuan went to sleep, Jiang Cheng sat at his desk and opened his notebook. He needed to write a report for the Beijing summary meeting.