Major Heavy Industry: Starting with a Fake Marriage

He put on that faded work uniform—not because he didn't want to wear something nice, but because he felt at ease standing on the stage in his work uniform.

Huang Deqing glanced at it, said nothing, and put on his work clothes.

At eight o'clock, Jiang Cheng walked into the auditorium.

The audience was packed with people, over four hundred in total. Several leaders in Zhongshan suits sat in the front row, their expressions serious. In the middle were technicians and engineers, some holding notebooks, others carrying blueprints. In the back row were workers, some still in their work clothes, their cuffs stained with machine oil.

Jiang Cheng stood on the podium, looking at the faces below the stage, and took a deep breath.

"Hello, fellow workers and colleagues," he said. "My name is Jiang Cheng, a fitter at Shencheng Hongxing Machinery Factory."

Some people in the audience laughed. It was indeed a bit comical to see a fitter lecturing on such a large platform.

Jiang Cheng didn't laugh. He turned around and wrote a single character on the blackboard—"grind".

"Today I won't talk about grand principles, I'll just talk about this word," he said. "We in the machinery industry can't live without this word. Bearings need to be replaced when they're worn out, cutting tools need to be repaired when they're worn out, and guide rails need to be adjusted when they're worn out. But how to wear them, to what extent to wear them out, and what to do after wearing them out—there's a lot to learn about all of this."

He spoke slowly, one sentence at a time, as if chatting with his coworkers. When he got to the key points, he would draw diagrams on the blackboard, explaining as he drew. When he talked about practical operations, he would use hand gestures to show the audience how to disassemble, assemble, and debug.

The audience listened more and more attentively. Some began taking notes, while others raised their hands to ask questions. Jiang Cheng answered them one by one, patiently and thoroughly.

Halfway through the speech, a man in a Zhongshan suit in the front row raised his hand. Jiang Cheng recognized him—he was the one from the provincial government.

"Comrade Jiang Cheng, what you're saying is all based on experience. Is there any theoretical basis for it?" the man asked, his tone neither warm nor cold.

Jiang Cheng looked at him and understood. This guy was here to cause trouble.

"Yes," he said. "Every modification to a piece of equipment has a theoretical basis. But I didn't write it on the blackboard because the workers don't need to memorize formulas. What they need to know is—what parts are prone to breaking, how to inspect them, and how to repair them."

The man frowned: "But without a theoretical basis, how can we guarantee the scientific validity of the modification?"

Jiang Cheng stepped down from the podium, walked to the front row, took out a stack of blueprints from his bag, and handed them to the man: "This is all the technical data for the renovation of the Shanghai 10,000-ton hydraulic press, including theoretical calculations, finite element analysis, and material test reports. Every page has a theoretical basis. But I won't explain these things to the workers, because they won't understand them, nor do they need to."

He looked at the man calmly: "What workers need to know is—how many turns to tighten this screw, how much clearance to leave there. My task is to transform those complex theories into language that workers can understand and steps they can follow. That's called transformation. If you can't transform them, theory is just empty talk."

The man was stunned, holding the blueprints, speechless for a long time.

A round of applause erupted from the audience. An older worker stood up and shouted, "Master Jiang, well said! This is exactly what we want to hear!"

Jiang Cheng smiled, walked back to the podium, and continued speaking.

The three-hour lecture was delivered in one go. There were no breaks, yet no one left the audience. When the last sentence was spoken, the entire audience stood up and erupted in applause.

Li Jianguo rushed up and hugged him tightly: "Brother, you're awesome! Those people from the province are mortified!"

Jiang Cheng smiled but didn't say anything. He saw Huang Deqing sitting in the last row, looking at him, and nodded slightly.

That look in his eyes was exactly the same as it was back in the workshop.

In the afternoon, Factory Director Zhao treated everyone to dinner. After a few rounds of drinks, Factory Director Zhao suddenly said, "Xiao Jiang, do you know who came from the province today?"

Jiang Cheng shook his head.

"Zhou Chuanming's men," Factory Director Zhao said in a low voice, "He'll definitely report back when he gets back. Be careful."

Jiang Cheng's heart sank. Zhou Chuanming's men had indeed set their sights on him. But he said nothing, raising his glass: "Director Zhao, thank you for reminding me."

After finishing his lectures at Ansteel, Jiang Cheng went to Benxi Steel, Fushun Mining Bureau, and Dalian Shipyard. Each stop followed the same pattern—lecturing in the morning, working in the workshops in the afternoon, and organizing notes in the evening. Huang Deqing accompanied him throughout, sometimes helping out with a few words, sometimes adding supplementary information.

At Benxi Steel, they encountered an old rolling mill exactly like the one at Hongxing Plant. Jiang Cheng demonstrated on the spot how to inspect, maintain, and modify it. The Benxi Steel workers gathered around, watching intently.

At the Fushun Mining Bureau, they went down into the mine. Jiang Cheng, wearing a safety helmet, inspected a hoist in the dimly lit tunnel. Huang Deqing followed behind, touched the steel cable, and said, "It needs to be replaced."

The mining bureau's engineers didn't believe it, but when they inspected it the next day, they found that three strands of the wire rope had broken, and if they didn't stop using it, there would be an accident.

At the Dalian shipyard, they encountered an imported plate rolling machine that had been broken for six months and no one could repair it. Jiang Cheng, along with Huang Deqing, disassembled and reassembled it repeatedly, working for three days and three nights without sleep, and finally fixed the machine. The shipyard manager grasped Jiang Cheng's hand, tears welling in his eyes: "Master Jiang, if this machine hadn't been fixed, our factory wouldn't have been able to complete our orders. You saved us!"

At each stop, Jiang Cheng spoke until his throat was dry. At each stop, Huang Deqing was exhausted and his back ached. But at the end of each stop, seeing the grateful eyes of the workers, Jiang Cheng felt it was all worth it.

The last stop was Shenyang.

This was Jiang Cheng's most nerve-wracking stop. Not because there were many factories in Shenyang, but because—Zhou Chuanming's territory was in Shenyang. On the day of the lecture, the audience was packed. There were people from Shenyang Heavy Machinery Factory, Shenyang Machine Tool Factory, Shenyang Mining Machinery Factory, and even people from Hongxing Factory—Director Ma brought more than a dozen workers from the foundry workshop to support him.

Standing on the stage, Jiang Cheng saw Director Ma giving him a thumbs-up from below, and he immediately felt at ease.

His presentation was similar to the previous ones, but he added a Q&A session. Anyone could ask any question, and he would answer them.

Questions came one after another, from the simplest "how to replace the bearing" to the most complex "how to modify the entire production line," and Jiang Cheng answered them all calmly and patiently. Huang Deqing sat in the first row, occasionally adding a few words, each addition making the questioner suddenly realize the answer.

The last question came from a young worker: "Master Jiang, can we go back and do what you've said?"

Jiang Cheng looked at him and said seriously, "Yes, we can. But there's one condition—don't act recklessly. Every machine is different, and my solution can only be used as a reference, not copied verbatim. You need to use your brains and find the most suitable solution based on your own factory's situation."

The young worker nodded and sat down.

After the lecture, Jiang Cheng was surrounded by a group of people. Some wanted autographs, some wanted photos, and some wanted contact information. Jiang Cheng responded to everyone, but his mind was on one person—Zhou Chuanming.

He thought Zhou Chuanming would make a move in Shenyang, but he didn't. Everything was calm; nothing happened.

Director Ma told him privately, "Zhou Chuanming's side has been very quiet lately. I wonder what kind of mischief they're plotting."

Jiang Cheng nodded. He knew that silence often foreshadowed a greater storm.

It was already December when we got back to Beijing.