Major Heavy Industry: Starting with a Fake Marriage

He was standing in the square in front of the station, trying to find a bus, when the rain started.

There was no gentle drizzle to set the stage; instead, it poured down, as if someone were pouring water from the sky. Raindrops pounded the ground, splashing white spray that stung our faces. The people in the square scattered instantly; some ran into the waiting room, others climbed into covered tricycles that roared away, and still others struggled forward under umbrellas.

Jiang Cheng hadn't brought an umbrella. He stood in the rain, completely soaked, carrying a cloth bag. The clothes inside the bag were probably wet too, but the sesame seed cakes were wrapped in oil paper, so they should be fine. He tried to find shelter from the rain, but it was crowded everywhere. Rainwater streamed down his hair and into his eyes, stinging them.

He hesitated whether to run when a black sedan suddenly stopped in front of him. The window rolled down, revealing a young face—it was Chen Siyuan.

"Brother Jiang! Get in the car!" Chen Siyuan pushed open the car door.

Jiang Cheng crawled inside, soaking wet, soaking the leather seats. Chen Siyuan handed him a towel: "Dry yourself off. Old Zhou sent me to pick you up; he said there's a downpour today."

Jiang Cheng took the towel and wiped his face: "How did you know I was at this exit?"

"I arrived at 5:30 and drove around every exit." Chen Siyuan started the car. "Old Zhou said that since it's your first time in Beijing by yourself, he was worried you wouldn't be able to find your way."

Jiang Cheng felt a warmth in his heart. The car pulled out of the station, the windshield wipers screeching against the windshield like a tireless hand. Outside the window, Beijing was shrouded in a curtain of rain; Tiananmen Square, Chang'an Avenue, and those tall buildings had all become blurry shadows.

Where is Old Zhou?

"I'll be waiting for you in the office," Chen Siyuan said. "Several people want to see you today."

"Who?"

Chen Siyuan smiled and said, "You'll see when we get there."

After driving for more than forty minutes, we arrived at Zhongguancun. The old building of the Institute of Mechanics, Chinese Academy of Sciences, looked even older in the rain, with several pieces of plaster peeling off the walls, revealing the red bricks underneath. The flower beds in front of the building were washed away by the rain, and the roses lay askew, their petals scattered all over the ground.

Chen Siyuan parked the car and led Jiang Cheng upstairs. The light in the hallway was still the same, dim, making the white paint on the walls appear yellowish. Footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, like some ancient rhythm resonating with the building.

Old Zhou's office was at the far end of the third floor. Chen Siyuan knocked on the door, and a voice from inside said, "Come in."

The door opened, and Old Zhou stood behind his desk, wearing a faded blue shirt with the cuffs rolled up twice, revealing his thin wrists. Seeing Jiang Cheng, he took off his reading glasses and smiled.

"Xiao Jiang, you're here! Come in quickly, don't just stand at the door."

Jiang Cheng walked in, about to speak, when he noticed two other people in the office. One was in his fifties, with a square face, thick eyebrows, and wearing a military uniform—the kind with stars on the shoulders. The other was in his early forties, wearing glasses, and had a refined appearance, holding a stack of documents.

"Come, let me introduce you." Old Zhou pointed to the man in military uniform, "This is Deputy Director Zhang of the Commission of Science, Technology and Industry for National Defense."

Jiang Cheng's heart skipped a beat. The Commission of Science, Technology and Industry for National Defense! That was the highest authority in charge of national defense science and technology. He quickly extended his hand: "Hello, Deputy Director Zhang."

Deputy Director Zhang shook his hand with great force, like an iron clamp: "Comrade Jiang Cheng, I've long admired your name. Old Zhou often mentioned you."

Old Zhou then pointed to the man wearing glasses: "This is Chief Engineer Zhao from the Ministry of Aviation Industry. He's the chief designer of the J-8 project."

Chief Engineer Zhao pushed up his glasses, sized up Jiang Cheng, and asked with a scrutinizing look, "You're the fitter who repaired the hydraulic press?"

"It's me," Jiang Cheng said.

Chief Engineer Zhao nodded and said nothing more. His expression was calm, but there was something in his eyes, as if he were calculating something.

"Sit down and talk," Old Zhou said, gesturing to the sofa.

Jiang Cheng sat down, still soaked, leaving a water stain on the sofa cushions. A little embarrassed, he tried to stand up, but Old Zhou waved his hand, saying, "Never mind that, just sit."

Deputy Director Zhang spoke first: "Comrade Jiang Cheng, we've all heard about what you did in Shenyang. The rolling mill, the hydraulic press, the ball mill—you did a fantastic job with each one. Old Zhou said you're a rare talent, so a few of us came here today specifically to meet you."

Jiang Cheng felt a little embarrassed by the compliment: "Deputy Director Zhang, you flatter me. I'm just a fitter; I can't do anything big."

"A fitter?" Deputy Director Zhang laughed. "A fitter can write a 'Technical Renovation Manual for Old Equipment'? Can he single-handedly renovate a 10,000-ton hydraulic press? Comrade Jiang Cheng, don't be modest."

Chief Engineer Zhao suddenly spoke up: "Comrade Jiang Cheng, I heard that your coating technology can repair worn parts at room temperature?"

"Yes," Jiang Cheng said. "We use an electrochemical method to deposit a layer of metal on the surface of the part. It's low-cost, simple to operate, and highly precise."

Chief Engineer Zhao pulled a drawing from the documents and handed it to him: "Take a look at this. Can it be fixed?"

Jiang Cheng took it; it was a structural diagram of an aircraft landing gear. He marked several key parts on the diagram, and circled one of them, marked "wear limit," in red.

"Is this the landing gear of a J-8 fighter jet?" he asked.

Chief Engineer Zhao nodded: "The struts of the front landing gear will wear down after a period of use, affecting safety. According to current regulations, they must be scrapped when they wear down to a certain extent. An imported strut costs more than 20,000 US dollars, and a domestic one costs tens of thousands of RMB. Replacing them every year will cost a lot of money just for the landing gear."

Jiang Cheng looked at the blueprints and remained silent for a while. Then he looked up and said, "Chief Engineer Zhao, this can be repaired. We can use plating technology to repair the worn parts and then machine them back to their original dimensions. After the repair, the strength will not be reduced, and the service life will be extended by at least 100%."

Chief Engineer Zhao's eyes lit up: "Are you confident?"

"Yes. But we need to do experiments to verify it. We'll test it with scrapped parts first, and then we'll put it on the actual machine."

Chief Engineer Zhao glanced at Deputy Director Zhang. Deputy Director Zhang nodded slightly.

"Comrade Jiang Cheng," Chief Engineer Zhao said, "if you can solve this problem, I thank you on behalf of the Ministry of Aviation Industry."

Jiang Cheng stood up: "Chief Engineer Zhao, I will do my best."

Old Zhou chuckled beside him, "Alright, we can talk about the technical issues later. Xiao Jiang just got off the train, let him catch his breath."

Deputy Director Zhang and Chief Engineer Zhao stood up, shook hands with Jiang Cheng, and left. As the door closed, Jiang Cheng heard their conversation in the corridor. It was muffled, and he couldn't make out what they were saying, but their tone was excited.

The office fell silent. Old Zhou poured two cups of tea, handed one to Jiang Cheng, and sat down on the sofa with the other cup in his own.

"Xiao Jiang, do you know why they came looking for you?"