Major Heavy Industry: Starting with a Fake Marriage

He leaned against the wall, letting the tears stream down his face. The corridor was empty; no one saw him. The fluorescent lights were still buzzing, and another baby was crying in the distance, but this time he didn't find it noisy. He put his hand in his pocket and felt a crumpled piece of paper—the one stained with ink that day, which he had secretly picked up and kept close. The paper was soft from sweat, and the writing was illegible, but he remembered what it said.

Half an hour later, the door finally opened. A nurse came out carrying a small white bundle, wrapped up tightly, with only her small face showing.

"Give your son a hug."

Jiang Cheng reached out, his hand trembling. He took the bundle; it was unbelievably light, like holding a ball of cotton. Inside the bundle was a small, wrinkled face, eyes closed, mouth opening and closing as if eating something in a dream. A tuft of wet black hair clung to the scalp.

He looked down at that face, and suddenly his nose stung with tears.

"Hello, little one," he said in a hoarse voice.

The little guy ignored him and continued sleeping.

Jiang Cheng carried the baby into the delivery room. Zheng Yanxi lay on the hospital bed, her face pale, her hair soaked through, strands clinging to her face. Seeing him enter, she gave a weak smile.

"show me."

Jiang Cheng placed the child beside her. Zheng Yanxi turned her head, looked at the wrinkled little face, and reached out to gently touch his cheek.

"Like you," she said.

"How is it similar? It's so ugly."

Zheng Yanxi glared at him: "You're the ugly one."

They both laughed. But as they laughed, Zheng Yanxi started crying too. Tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping onto the pillow and leaving a small watermark.

"Don't cry, you can't cry during postpartum confinement," Jiang Cheng said, wiping his own eyes.

"I didn't cry," Zheng Yanxi said. "I was happy."

The ward was quiet, with only the child's soft breathing. Outside the window, dawn was breaking, and the distant sound of a train whistle drifted in. The first rays of sunlight shone through the gap in the curtains, illuminating Zheng Yanxi's hair with a golden edge.

Jiang Cheng sat on the edge of the bed, holding Zheng Yanxi's hand. Her hand was cold but soft, like a piece of warm jade.

"Yanxi, thank you for your hard work."

Zheng Yanxi shook her head, looked at the child in her arms, and whispered, "What's your name?"

Jiang Cheng thought for a moment: "Jiang Yuan. Jiang as in rivers, Yuan as in distant places."

"Jiang Yuan," Zheng Yanxi repeated, "Why is it called Yuan?"

"Because—" Jiang Cheng looked out the window at the gradually brightening sky, "I want him to go further than me. Further than anyone else."

Zheng Yanxi didn't speak, but simply hugged the child tighter. Birds were chirping outside the window; she didn't know what kind of birds they were, but they looked like thrushes.

A new day begins.

As dawn broke, the news spread throughout the entire factory. Director Ma was the first to arrive, carrying two old hens, saying he'd asked someone to buy them from the countryside for Yanxi to help her recover. He handed the chickens to Jiang Cheng, patting him on the shoulder: "Good lad, you're a father now! You'll be busy from now on!"

Huang Deqing was the second to arrive. He stood at the door of the ward, peeked at the child, then at Zheng Yanxi, before taking a cloth bag out of his pocket and handing it to Jiang Cheng.

"What?"

"It's for the child. I made it," Huang Deqing said.

Jiang Cheng opened the cloth bag, inside was a silver longevity lock, not large but heavy, with the four characters "Long Life" engraved on it, the characters neat and powerful.

"Master, this is far too precious—"

"Take it." Huang Deqing interrupted him, "I have no children, only you as my apprentice. This child is my grandson."

Jiang Cheng felt a lump in his throat and clenched the lock in his hand, the pressure making his palm ache.

Zheng Huaiyuan and his mother arrived in the afternoon. As soon as Zheng's mother entered, her eyes reddened. She held Zheng Yanxi's hand, looking her up and down, muttering, "She's lost weight, she's lost weight." Zheng Huaiyuan stood beside her, his face expressionless, but his eyes were fixed on the child.

"Like Yanxi when she was a child," he suddenly said.

Zheng's mother paused for a moment, then asked, "You remember?"

"I remember. She weighed 6.2 pounds at birth, a little lighter than this little one. She was just as wrinkled."

Zheng's mother laughed through her tears: "You have the nerve to say that? Back then, you were in the countryside, and you couldn't even get through on the phone. I gave birth to her all by myself at the clinic, and I almost died."

Zheng Huaiyuan remained silent, only looking at the child with a mixture of guilt and relief in his eyes.

Zheng Yanxi stayed in the hospital for five days. Jiang Cheng went to class at the college every morning, came back at noon to bring her food, and stayed in the ward at night. He held the baby in his arms and learned how to change diapers, feed formula, and burp the baby. At first, he was flustered and clumsy. He put the diaper on backwards, made the formula too concentrated, and tried to burp the baby for a long time without success. He was so anxious that he was covered in sweat.

Zheng Yanxi leaned against the bed, watching his clumsy movements, and couldn't help but laugh: "Weren't you pretty good at fixing machines? How come you can't even handle a child?"

Jiang Cheng retorted, "A machine is a machine, and a child is a child. If a machine breaks down, you can replace parts, but can you replace a child?"

Zheng Yanxi laughed even harder, but halfway through her laughter, she suddenly hissed – she had aggravated her wound.

On the day of discharge, Jiang Cheng borrowed a tricycle, laid out two quilts, and took Zheng Yanxi and the child home. On the way, the child slept soundly, his little face buried in the bundle, only the tip of his nose showing. The sunlight shone on his face, gilding the fine downy fur with gold.

Jiang Cheng pushed the cart slowly, careful not to bump it. Passersby on the street turned to look, some smiling and greeting, "Had a big, healthy baby boy? Congratulations!"

Jiang Cheng smiled and nodded, saying "thank you," and slowed his pace even further.

Life suddenly became very busy.

During the day, Jiang Cheng went to class at the academy, while Zheng Yanxi stayed home to take care of the child. In the evenings, Jiang Cheng would come home to cook, wash diapers, and soothe the baby. A basin was piled high with diapers, and he squatted in the yard scrubbing them until his hands were red. An old lady nearby saw him and clicked her tongue twice: "What are you doing washing diapers, you big man? Let your wife do it."

Jiang Cheng smiled and said, "She's tired from taking care of the child, so I'll lend a hand."

The old lady shook her head and left. Jiang Cheng continued rubbing, then wrung out the diapers and hung them one by one on the line. The yard was filled with diapers, a sea of ​​white, fluttering in the wind like little flags.

The baby needs to be fed twice a night. Jiang Cheng set an alarm, and he's the one who gets up to make the formula each time. Zheng Yanxi tried to get up several times, but Jiang Cheng pressed her back down, saying, "You go to sleep, I'll do it."

He sat on the edge of the bed, holding the baby in one hand and patting the baby's back with the other. The milk slowly sipped, and the baby's eyelids gradually drooped. After feeding and patting the baby to help him burp, the baby fell into a deep sleep again. Jiang Cheng put the baby back in the crib, lay down himself, and listened to the baby's even breathing, feeling as if the whole world had quieted down.