Major Heavy Industry: Starting with a Fake Marriage

Chen Siyuan saw Jiang Cheng and nodded slightly, but didn't speak. His expression was very serious, completely different from the Chen Siyuan who usually loved to joke. He was wearing a gray Zhongshan suit with the Chinese Academy of Sciences badge pinned to his chest, red with white lettering, which was particularly eye-catching under the light.

The meeting was held in the factory's large conference room. Factory Director Zhou, Huang Deqing, and several key members of the technical innovation team were present. Director Wei sat in the main seat, with a stack of documents spread out in front of him—all of them were the renovation plans and test reports written by Jiang Cheng.

"After a week of investigation and verification," Director Wei said calmly, flipping through the documents, "we have re-examined every piece of equipment that Comrade Jiang Cheng modified. The result is—"

He raised his head and glanced at the people present.

"All equipment is operating normally, and the renovations have been very effective. No damage to state property has been found. On the contrary, these renovations have saved the country a significant amount of maintenance costs and foreign exchange."

A moment of silence fell over the meeting room, followed by a low cheer. Director Ma was the first to stand up, slamming his hand on the table and exclaiming, "I knew it! How could Jiang Cheng possibly do anything wrong!"

Factory Director Zhou let out a long sigh of relief, the wrinkles on his face smoothing out. He took out a cigarette, lit it, his hand still trembling slightly.

Director Wei waved his hand, signaling everyone to be quiet.

"However," his tone changed, "while the renovation itself is not the problem, there were indeed some procedural irregularities in the process. For example, some renovations were not approved by higher authorities, and some were not reviewed by experts. These procedural issues need to be rectified."

Jiang Cheng stood up: "Director Wei, I accept the rectification suggestions. All future renovation projects will proceed according to procedures."

Director Wei nodded and closed his notebook. He stood up, walked to Jiang Cheng, and extended his hand.

"Comrade Jiang Cheng, what you did was right. But you must remember that in this country, it's not enough to just do things; you also need to know the rules."

Jiang Cheng grasped his hand: "I'll remember that, Director Wei."

Director Wei left. Chen Siyuan walked last, and as he passed Jiang Cheng, he suddenly stopped, took an envelope from his pocket, and stuffed it into Jiang Cheng's hand.

"Old Zhou asked me to bring this to you," he said softly. "He told you not to be afraid, the sky won't fall down."

Jiang Cheng clutched the thin envelope, containing only a single sheet of paper. He looked up to thank Chen Siyuan, but Chen had already left, his figure disappearing at the end of the corridor.

Jiang Cheng opened the envelope. Inside was a letter with only one line of text, written in Old Zhou's handwriting, the words bold and clear: "Little Jiang, come to Beijing. Something good has happened."

He folded the letter and put it in his pocket. The letter pressed against his chest; he could feel the stiffness of the paper, like a thin piece of armor.

That evening, Jiang Cheng treated the technical innovation team to dinner. It was the same small restaurant, the same few dishes. But the atmosphere was completely different. Director Ma, his face flushed and neck red from drinking, put his arm around Jiang Cheng's shoulder and said, "Brother, you scared me to death! I thought this was really the end for us!"

Sun Deming also arrived, holding a wine glass and saying, "Brother Jiang, you're the one." He gave Jiang Cheng a thumbs up, almost poking him in the nose.

Huang Deqing sat in the corner, drinking his wine, not saying much. But Jiang Cheng noticed that the corners of his mouth were always curved in a smile.

It was quite late when the party ended. Jiang Cheng helped Huang Deqing walk back. The moonlight was bright, shining on the asphalt road in the factory area like a layer of silver foil. In the distance, machines were still humming in the workshops, rumbling like the heartbeat of the factory.

"Chengzi," Huang Deqing suddenly said, "what are you planning to do in the future?"

Jiang Cheng thought for a moment: "Go to Beijing. Old Zhou asked me to go there."

Huang Deqing nodded: "Go ahead. We can't sever ties with Beijing."

He stopped, looked at Jiang Cheng, and his eyes spoke volumes.

"Chengzi, remember this: although this matter is over, Zhou Chuanming won't let it go. The higher you climb, the more people will be watching you. With every step you take, someone will try to bring you down."

Jiang Cheng nodded: "Master, I understand."

"Good to know." Huang Deqing patted his shoulder, turned and left. In the moonlight, his shadow was long, his steps steady and deliberate, just like him.

When Jiang Cheng returned home, Zheng Yanxi was still awake. She was sitting at the table reading, the light from the lamp illuminating her face and softly outlining her profile. Jiang Yuan was already asleep, and the sound of his even breathing came from his small bed.

"You're back?" She looked up.

"Hmm." Jiang Cheng walked over, took the letter out of his pocket, and handed it to her. "Old Zhou asked me to go to Beijing."

Zheng Yanxi glanced at the letter, then handed it back to him: "When are you leaving?"

"tomorrow."

Zheng Yanxi was silent for a while, then stood up and went into the bedroom. After a while, she took out a cloth bag and handed it to him.

"What?"

"These are for you. A change of clothes and some dry food. Eat them on the road."

Jiang Cheng took the cloth bag; it was heavy. He opened it and looked inside. There were two clean shirts folded up, and a package of sesame seed cakes wrapped in oil paper. The cakes were still warm, emitting the aroma of sesame seeds and Sichuan peppercorns.

"Yanxi, thank you."

Zheng Yanxi shook her head and didn't speak. She walked to the window and opened it. The night breeze rushed in, carrying the scent of poplar catkins and earth. The clivia on the windowsill stood quietly in the moonlight, its leaves broad and glossy, as if coated with wax.

"Jiang Cheng," she suddenly said, "you know, sometimes I feel like you're drifting further and further away from me."

Jiang Cheng was taken aback: "Why do you say that?"

"You went to Beijing, to Shanghai, to so many places. You met so many important people, did so many important things. And I..." She paused, "I'm still just a little nurse in this factory."

Jiang Cheng walked over and stood beside her: "Yanxi, you're not just a nurse. You're Jiang Yuan's mother, and my wife. No matter where you go, or how far I go, this is still my home."

Zheng Yanxi didn't speak, but simply leaned on his shoulder. The moonlight shone on the two of them, casting their shadows on the ground, overlapping and indistinguishable.

Outside the window, in the distant factory area, night shift workers were leaving get off work, walking in twos and threes along the road, their voices faintly audible, though the words were indistinct, their tone relaxed. Streetlights shone one by one, like a luminous river flowing into the depths of the night.

Jiang Cheng didn't know what awaited him in Beijing. But whatever it was, he knew that someone was waiting for him to return.

This is enough.

Jiang Cheng was greeted by a downpour in Beijing.

The train arrived at the station at six in the morning, before dawn. As he stepped off the platform, a wave of hot, humid air hit him, like stepping into a giant steamer. The sky was overcast, the clouds hung low, and the distant buildings were shrouded in a misty haze, blurring like an ink painting.