Major Heavy Industry: Starting with a Fake Marriage

"Uncle Zheng, what are they doing—"

"I know," Zheng Huaiyuan interrupted him, "but the problem is, the notice has already been issued. Now the whole province knows that there's a problem with your factory's technological innovation team."

Jiang Cheng fell silent. He knew what this meant—the reputation of the technical innovation team was ruined; other factories would no longer hire them to modify equipment, and the provincial government's support would be cut off. Everything he had painstakingly built up could be destroyed just like that.

"What did Factory Director Zhou say?"

"Director Zhou is trying to find a solution," Zheng Huaiyuan said, "but this time it's a direct document from the provincial department, and he can't withstand it."

Jiang Cheng stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the night outside. Snowflakes were falling again, one by one, landing on the windowsill and melting quickly.

"Uncle Zheng, what do you think I should do?"

Zheng Huaiyuan looked at him, remained silent for a moment, and then said, "Xiao Jiang, do you know why I asked you to come today?"

Jiang Cheng shook his head.

"Because I want to tell you something." Zheng Huaiyuan stood up, walked to the bookshelf, and pulled out an old book. On the title page, there was a line written: "Technology is not guilty, but those who use technology have a stance."

"This was written to me by my former mentor," Zheng Huaiyuan said. "Back then, I encountered the same thing as you. I was framed, sued, and almost lost my job. Later, I realized something—"

He turned around and looked at Jiang Cheng: "Having ability isn't enough. You need to let people know whose side your ability is on."

Jiang Cheng was stunned for a moment, then slowly understood.

"Uncle Zheng, you mean—"

"What I mean is, you can't just bury your head in your work," Zheng Huaiyuan said. "You have to look up and see what's around you. Who supports you, who opposes you, who's stabbing you in the back. You have to know that."

He walked back, sat down, and looked at Jiang Cheng: "Those people you met in Beijing—Old Zhou, Director Zhang—they are your biggest backers. But backers can't put food on the table. You have to let the whole province know that what you're doing is right and can withstand scrutiny."

Jiang Cheng's heart skipped a beat: "You mean, a public response?"

Zheng Huaiyuan nodded: "Yes. A public response. Make the modification plan, test data, and usage effects of each piece of equipment public. Let the whole province see whether it's a violation of regulations or a technological innovation."

Jiang Cheng's thoughts gradually became clearer. He recalled that when he was in Shanghai, he had used the same method when faced with Zhou Chuanming's accusations—letting data and facts speak for themselves.

"Uncle Zheng, I understand."

As they left Zheng Huaiyuan's house, the snow fell even harder. Jiang Cheng and Zheng Yanxi walked side by side on the street, sharing an umbrella. Snowflakes pattered against the umbrella.

"What did Dad say to you?" Zheng Yanxi asked.

Jiang Cheng recounted the report. Zheng Yanxi listened in silence for a moment, then asked, "What do you plan to do?"

"Give us a public response," Jiang Cheng said. "Present all the data."

Zheng Yanxi nodded: "I support you."

Jiang Cheng looked at her and suddenly laughed: "Aren't you afraid I'll make a big fuss?"

Zheng Yanxi shook her head: "I'm not afraid. You're not the kind of person who would do anything reckless."

Jiang Cheng took her hand; it was cold, but steady. The two of them walked home step by step through the snow.

The streetlights cast a dim yellow glow, making their shadows long. Two lines of footprints, some deep and some shallow, were left in the snow, stretching out into the distance.

That night, Jiang Cheng barely slept. He sat at his desk, spread out paper and pen, and began writing his response. He wrote down the modification plan for each piece of equipment, the data for each step of the operation, and the results of each test clearly. He drew diagrams to illustrate key points. For controversial parts, he attached the original records.

Zheng Yanxi got up and poured him water three times, each time without saying a word, simply placing the cup on the table and then quietly walking away.

By dawn, the last page was full. Jiang Cheng put down his pen and let out a long sigh. Outside the window, it was already light, and the snow had stopped. The sunlight shone on the snow, dazzlingly white.

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the world outside. In the distance, white smoke billowed from the factory chimneys, and the sound of train whistles drifted from afar.

A new day begins.

He didn't know what kind of storm this material would cause after it was released. But he knew that some battles had to be fought.

The day after the materials were written, Jiang Cheng went to see Director Zhou.

Factory Director Zhou was smoking in his office, the ashtray in front of him overflowing with cigarette butts. Seeing Jiang Cheng enter, he stubbed out his cigarette and sighed.

"Xiao Jiang, you knew all along?"

Jiang Cheng nodded and handed over the written materials. Factory Director Zhou took them and flipped through them page by page. When he was halfway through, he paused, looked up at Jiang Cheng, and stopped.

"You kept copies of all these things?"

"Every time a machine is modified, there are records. Who did it, how it was done, what materials were used, and what the test results were—it's all recorded," Jiang Cheng said. "Factory manager, I know exactly what I did."

Factory Director Zhou remained silent for a while, then turned to the last page of the document, read it, and put it down.

"Xiao Jiang, do you know what it means when you hand these things over?"

"I know," Jiang Cheng said. "We've broken ties with Zhou Chuanming."

Factory Director Zhou looked at him with a complicated expression: "It's not just a falling out. He has people backing him, and you have people backing you too. But if the two of you start fighting, it won't just be a matter between the two of you. It will be a matter for the entire Liaoning industrial system."

Jiang Cheng didn't speak. He knew that Director Zhou was telling the truth.

"But if you don't fight back, he'll keep riding on your head." Director Zhou stood up and walked to the window. "If you tolerate it once, he'll do it again. If you tolerate it twice, he'll do it a third time. In the end, you won't have to do anything but tolerate it."

He turned around and looked at Jiang Cheng: "So, I support you."

Jiang Cheng felt a surge of warmth in his heart: "Factory Director—"

"Don't call me factory manager." Factory manager Zhou waved his hand. "Call me Old Zhou. I'm not supporting you as the factory manager, but as an old worker."

He took a document out of the drawer and handed it to Jiang Cheng: "This is the factory's official report, which I've also prepared. Submit it along with your materials."

Jiang Cheng took the report and opened it. The report was simple, but every sentence was weighty: "Upon verification by our factory, all the renovation projects undertaken by the technical innovation team complied with operating procedures, and no violations were found. The content of the provincial department's report is inconsistent with the facts. This is hereby stated."

The report was stamped with the official seal of the Hongxing Machinery Factory, and also bore the handwritten signature of Director Zhou.

Looking at the signature, Jiang Cheng suddenly felt a lump in his throat. He knew that by signing his name, Director Zhou had essentially staked his future.

"Old Zhou, thank you."

Factory Director Zhou waved his hand: "No need to thank me. I've worked my whole life, and now that I'm about to retire, it's time to stand up for myself."