Major Heavy Industry: Starting with a Fake Marriage

A burst of laughter came from outside the window. He stood up, walked to the window, and saw Sun Deming playing basketball with several students in the yard. The ball was broken, and they bounced it crookedly, but they were having a lot of fun. Huang Deqing squatted on the steps, smoking, watching them with a blank expression on his face, but a light in his eyes.

As Jiang Cheng looked at the letter, he suddenly remembered something. He turned back to the table, took out a piece of paper from the drawer, and began to write.

"Yanxi: The experiment was a success today. 120,000 cycles, even exceeding the original manufacturer's standard. Chief Engineer Zhao is coming to Shenyang next week. I think this should be done. Has Jiang Yuan been good these past few days? Has he called me 'Dad'? He had just learned to say it when I left last time, I wonder if he still remembers. After I'm done with this in a few days, I'll take you to Beiling Park to see the ginkgo leaves. I heard the leaves are especially yellow this year. Wait for me. Success."

He folded the letter, put it in an envelope, and wrote the address. Then he stood up, put on his coat, and left the office.

In the courtyard, Sun Deming saw him and called out, "Brother Jiang, come play ball!"

Jiang Cheng waved his hand: "No, I'm going to mail the letter."

He walked out of the courtyard gate and headed towards the post office. There weren't many people on the street. A few elderly people were playing chess by the roadside, a little girl was jumping rope, and a middle-aged man was pushing a bicycle with a bag of rice tied to the back seat. The poplar leaves by the roadside were still falling, rustling as they landed on the ground.

He walked to the post office and dropped the letter into the mailbox. The envelope made a soft "thump" as it went in, but he heard it.

He stood in front of the mailbox for a while. Then he turned around and walked back.

He stopped when he reached the entrance of the promotion center. A black sedan was parked there, covered in a layer of dust, indicating it had traveled a long way. The door opened, and a man stepped out—a man in his fifties, with a square face, thick eyebrows, and wearing a military uniform.

It is Deputy Director Zhang of the Commission of Science, Technology and Industry for National Defense.

"Comrade Jiang Cheng." Deputy Director Zhang walked over and extended his hand. "I just came from Beijing. Chief Engineer Zhao asked me to come and take a look first."

Jiang Cheng grasped his hand: "Hello, Deputy Director Zhang."

Deputy Director Zhang sized him up, his gaze scrutinizing him: "I heard your experiment was successful?"

"Yes. 120,000 cycles, no cracks, no peeling."

Deputy Director Zhang nodded without speaking. He walked into the courtyard and looked around. The laboratory door was open, revealing the equipment and tools inside. The conference room door was also open, with blueprints and documents spread out on the table. The office door was closed, but light was shining through the window.

"Do you only have these few rooms?" he asked.

"Yes. Three rooms."

Deputy Director Zhang was silent for a moment, then said, "Comrade Jiang Cheng, I have something to tell you."

"Please speak."

"The ministry has decided to officially include the landing gear repair project in its curriculum. The first batch will repair fifty landing gears in a pilot program in Shenyang. If the results are good, it will be rolled out nationwide."

Jiang Cheng was taken aback. Officially commissioned? Fifty units? This was a bigger step than he had imagined.

"Deputy Director Zhang, this—"

Are you having trouble?

"Yes. We don't have enough manpower, enough equipment, and enough space."

Deputy Director Zhang looked at him and suddenly laughed: "You're certainly honest. When others hear this news, they immediately promise to complete the task. But you, you start by talking about the difficulties."

Jiang Cheng smiled and said, "Deputy Director Zhang, this concerns a major military matter, I can't lie to you. I can take the job, but you have to give me time. First, train the staff, then modify the equipment, one step at a time."

Deputy Director Zhang nodded: "Okay. I'll give you time. Three months, is that enough?"

Jiang Cheng thought for a moment and said, "That's enough."

"Okay." Deputy Director Zhang patted him on the shoulder. "I'll come to inspect it in three months."

He turned and got into the car. The car started, the engine humming. The window rolled down, and Deputy Director Zhang leaned out: "Comrade Jiang Cheng, your 'let's do it again' spirit works just as well on an airplane."

The car drove away, kicking up a cloud of dust. Jiang Cheng stood at the door, watching the car disappear around the street corner, standing there for a long time. The dust slowly settled, landing on his shoes and trouser legs, leaving them covered in a grime.

He turned and walked into the courtyard. Huang Deqing was still squatting on the steps smoking. Seeing him come in, he asked, "Who's here?"

"Deputy Director Zhang. From the Commission of Science, Technology and Industry for National Defense."

"What did you say?"

"The landing gear project has officially entered service. The first batch of fifty units will be installed in three months."

Huang Deqing paused for a moment, then nodded: "Fifty. Three months. Can you manage that?"

"We can manage. But we need to hire more people."

"Who should we add?"

Jiang Cheng thought for a moment: "Wang Xiaojun counts as one. Sun Deming counts as one. Old Zhao counts as one. And we'll borrow a few more with some experience from various factories."

Huang Deqing stood up, dusted himself off, and said, "Okay. I'll go find someone."

He left. Jiang Cheng stood in the courtyard, watching his retreating figure. His master's back was a little hunched, but his steps were still steady, one step at a time, neither hurried nor slow.

The courtyard was empty, save for the rustling of the few poplar trees. Leaves lay scattered on the ground, golden and soft underfoot. He bent down, picked up a leaf, and examined it against the light. The veins were as clear as a map, each line leading to a different place.

He put the leaf in his pocket, went into his office, sat down, and began writing a work plan. Fifty landing gear units, three months, ninety days. Each one needed to be coated, stress-relieved, ground, and inspected. Every step had to be precise, with no room for error.

He wrote slowly, checking each number repeatedly. The light outside the window gradually dimmed, so he turned on the desk lamp. The light shone brightly on the paper.

He stopped writing on the last page. On the last line of the plan, he wrote: "After the first batch is completed, train the second batch of operators. Let more people learn this technology."

After writing the last word, he put down his pen and leaned back in his chair. The lamplight shone warmly on his face. He closed his eyes, and an image appeared in his mind—an airplane flying in the blue sky, its landing gear retracted and hidden inside the fuselage. Sunlight shone on the silvery-white metal, dazzlingly bright.

He didn't know what model the plane was, or who was flying it. But he did know that he had repaired the landing gear using his skills.

This thought made him feel that all the hard work was worthwhile.

He opened his eyes, stood up, and turned off the lamp. Outside the window, the moon had already risen, round and bright, shining on the poplar trees in the yard, turning the leaves silvery-white.

He put on his coat, locked the door, and headed home. The street was quiet, with only the streetlights still on, one after another, like a string of beads. His shadow was stretched long by the streetlights, casting a long shadow on the ground, following him step by step.

He went downstairs and looked up at the fourth-floor window. The light was on, the curtains were half-drawn, and he could see Zheng Yanxi's shadow moving around inside. The clivia on the windowsill was still blooming, its orange-red color particularly vibrant under the light.