Major Heavy Industry: Starting with a Fake Marriage

After the briefing, Old Zhou called Jiang Cheng to his office. He closed the door, poured two cups of tea, sat on the sofa, and looked at Jiang Cheng.

"Xiao Jiang, how old are you this year?"

"Twenty-four."

"Twenty-four," Old Zhou repeated. "When I was twenty-four, I was still studying in the Soviet Union. And you? You were already a nationally renowned technical expert."

Jiang Cheng was a little embarrassed: "Mr. Zhou, you flatter me. I was just lucky."

Old Zhou shook his head: "It's not luck. It's skill." He took a sip of tea and suddenly asked, "What does your wife do?"

Jiang Cheng was taken aback: "A nurse. From the factory's medical station."

Old Zhou nodded: "That's good. I heard she's also studying on her own? And she passed the nursing exam?"

"Yes. I just took the exam last month."

Old Zhou smiled: "Not bad. It's good that the couple is making progress together."

He put down his teacup, looked at Jiang Cheng, and his gaze became serious: "Jiang, I have something to tell you. The ministry is planning to set up an 'Office for the Renovation and Promotion of Old Equipment,' and we'd like you to lead it. It's not about transferring you to Beijing; it's about having you set up a branch in Shenyang to be responsible for promotional work in Northeast China. Are you willing?"

Jiang Cheng was taken aback. Leading the promotion office? That's a proper leadership position.

"Old Zhou, I'm afraid I won't do a good job."

"If you can't do it well, who can?" Old Zhou said. "You have the skills, the experience, and the connections. If you don't step up, who will?"

Jiang Cheng was silent for a moment, then said, "Old Zhou, I'll do it. But I have one condition."

"Let your master, Huang Deqing, participate as well. He has more experience than you, and he's better at some things than you," Old Zhou said, mimicking Jiang Cheng's tone. Having spent a long time with him, he had figured out Jiang Cheng's personality.

Hearing what Old Zhou said, Jiang Cheng felt relieved.

"Mr. Zhou, when promoting technology, we can't just talk about the technology. We need to talk about how to train workers and how to establish systems. Simply modifying a few machines is useless; we need to ensure that every factory has its own technical capabilities."

Old Zhou nodded: "You're right. You decide on this."

After returning from Beijing, Jiang Cheng went to the factory to tell Huang Deqing the good news. Huang Deqing listened in silence for a long time before saying, "Chengzi, you want me to give a lecture?"

"right."

"I'm an old man who can't even speak Mandarin fluently, how can I teach?"

Jiang Cheng smiled: "Master, you don't need to speak Mandarin. Just speak Shenyang dialect. The workers can understand it."

Huang Deqing looked at him, hesitated for a moment, and then nodded: "Okay, let's give it a try."

When the news reached her home, Zheng Yanxi was sunbathing in the yard. Her belly was quite large, and her due date was at the end of August. When she heard Jiang Cheng say that he was going to give lectures in various parts of Northeast China, she didn't say anything, but just nodded.

"Yanxi, you don't want me to go?"

Zheng Yanxi shook her head: "It's not that I don't want to. It's that I'm worried you'll be too tired. You have to teach classes, do experiments, and travel to different places to give lectures. Can your body handle it?"

Jiang Cheng held her hand: "I can handle it. Don't worry."

Zheng Yanxi didn't speak, but simply leaned on his shoulder. Jiang Cheng felt her belly move—the baby was kicking.

"Yanxi, the baby kicked you."

"Yeah, I've been kicking it a lot lately."

Jiang Cheng placed his hand on her belly, feeling the movement of the little life inside. One, two, three. Each knock was gentle, like a gentle knock on a door.

"Do you think he might be an engineer?" Jiang Cheng asked.

Zheng Yanxi laughed: "Maybe he's a doctor."

"Doctors are good. Doctors earn more than engineers."

Zheng Yanxi lightly slapped him: "Don't talk nonsense."

The two sat in the courtyard, watching the sunset slowly descend. The clouds on the horizon were ablaze with red, the machines in the factory were still roaring, and the sound of a train whistle could be heard in the distance.

"Yanxi, what do you think will happen to us in the future?" Jiang Cheng suddenly asked.

Zheng Yanxi thought for a moment: "It will be great. A hundred times better than it is now."

Jiang Cheng laughed: "I said that."

"I learned it," Zheng Yanxi said with a smile.

In the setting sun, the shadows of the two people overlapped, like an oak tree with its roots firmly planted in the soil and its branches reaching towards the sky.

In August, Shenyang is as hot as a steamer.

The poplar leaves in the factory area were curled at the edges from the sun, the asphalt road felt soft and spongy underfoot, and the air was filled with the smell of machine oil and rust, which, after being baked by the sun, turned into an indescribable odor. The workers in the workshop were all shirtless, sweat dripping down their backs and onto the ground, where it dried in no time.

It was already evening when Jiang Cheng rushed back from the college. He jumped off the bus and ran home, his backpack bouncing on his back. Inside was a can of malted milk powder he'd brought back from Beijing—a gift from Old Zhou, who said it was for pregnant women to nourish their bodies. He couldn't bear to eat it, carrying it all the way back, the can warmed by his body heat.

Reaching the dormitory building, he stopped and looked up at the fourth-floor window. The window was open, and the curtains had been replaced with new ones—light pink, shimmering softly in the setting sun. On the windowsill sat a pot of unidentified flowers, blooming vibrantly, a bright red like a ball of fire.

He rushed upstairs. The door was ajar; he pushed it open and saw Zheng Yanxi sitting at the table, staring blankly at a book on pediatric nursing. Her belly was quite large; she needed to support her back to straighten up after sitting for a while. Several pages of letter paper lay open on the table, containing a half-finished letter, and the cap of the ink bottle beside her wasn't even tightened.

"You're back?" She looked up, a hint of surprise flashing across her face, but she quickly regained her composure.

Jiang Cheng placed the malted milk powder on the table, squatted down, and looked at her stomach: "How are you today?"

"It's alright. It kicked a few times this afternoon, but it's asleep now." Zheng Yanxi said, reaching out to touch her stomach very gently, as if afraid of waking something.

Jiang Cheng placed his hand on hers. Through the thin polyester shirt, he could feel her belly tighten slightly, warm and smooth. In his palm, there was a small, hard bump, like a walnut—was it the baby's heel or knee?

"Yanxi, who do you think he looks like?"

"Just like you." Zheng Yanxi said without hesitation, "Naughty. Inactive during the day, active at night. Just like your schedule."

Jiang Cheng smiled. He stood up, walked to the kitchen, turned on the coal stove, and started heating up the food. The vegetables in the pot were still from yesterday; Zheng Yanxi was home alone and too lazy to cook anything new. He poured the vegetables into the pot, added a little water, put the lid on, and heard the "bubbling" sound, feeling inexplicably at ease.

"Yanxi, when is your due date?"

"The end of the month. There are still more than ten days left."

"I asked for leave. Teacher Fang approved it and told me to stay with you without worry."

Zheng Yanxi paused for a moment, then shook her head: "No need. You go about your business, I can manage on my own."

"No way." Jiang Cheng poked his head out from the kitchen. "I have to be there this time."