Major Heavy Industry: Starting with a Fake Marriage

The second batch of work went more smoothly than the first.

With the experience gained from the first batch, the operating procedures have been established. Every process has standards, and every step of the operation has specifications. Sun Deming is in charge of grinding, Lao Zhao is in charge of inspection, and Wang Xiaojun is learning coating from Huang Deqing. Jiang Cheng is in charge of overall coordination; wherever a process is stuck, he goes there.

The words Shen Gong left behind—"Your skills are better than mine"—had been swirling in Jiang Cheng's mind for days. He knew Shen Gong wasn't just being polite. That old man wasn't polite to anyone. He genuinely thought Jiang Cheng's skills were good. But Jiang Cheng knew in his heart that his skills didn't come from nowhere. They were taught by his master, learned from books, and honed little by little in the workshop. These things weren't just his own.

One day at noon, after lunch, Jiang Cheng took a walk in the courtyard. The snow had stopped, and the sun was out, shining brightly on the snow-covered ground. He squinted, looking at the factory buildings in the distance. The chimneys billowed white smoke, drawing arcs across the blue sky like a calligrapher wielding brushstrokes on rice paper.

"Brother Jiang."

He turned around and saw Wang Xiaojun standing behind him, holding a lunchbox in his hand, his face red from the cold.

"What's wrong?"

"I want to talk to you about something." Wang Xiaojun walked over and stood next to him, looking down at the tips of his shoes. His shoes were old, with a tear in the upper that was taped up.

"Speak."

"I..." Wang Xiaojun looked up at him, "I want to go to university."

Jiang Cheng was taken aback. Go to university? Wang Xiaojun was only a junior high school graduate, twenty-three years old this year, and had worked in the factory for five years. Going to university wasn't impossible for him, but it would be quite difficult.

What major do you want to study?

"Mechanical engineering. I want to be an engineer like you."

Jiang Cheng looked at him and remained silent for a moment. Then he said, "Do you know what the college entrance exam is about?"

"Yes, I know. I bought books for Chinese, math, politics, physics, and chemistry, and I study them every night."

"Can you understand it?"

Wang Xiaojun hesitated for a moment: "I can understand some of it, but I can't understand some of it."

Jiang Cheng nodded and didn't ask any more questions. He turned and walked back to his office, took a few books from the bookshelf, and handed them to Wang Xiaojun.

"Take a look at these books first. If you don't understand anything, come and ask me."

Wang Xiaojun took the book, flipped through it, and his eyes lit up: "Brother Jiang, this—"

"Don't call me Brother Jiang. Call me Master." Jiang Cheng looked at him. "If you get into university, you'll be my second apprentice."

Wang Xiaojun stood there, holding the book, his eyes reddening. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but nothing came out. He bowed deeply, turned, and ran. After a few steps, he stopped, glanced back at Jiang Cheng, and then continued running.

Jiang Cheng stood in the courtyard, watching his figure disappear at the end of the corridor. Sunlight shone on the snow, reflecting a dazzling light. He squinted, suddenly remembering how he was when he first entered the factory. Back then, he was just like that, holding the book his mentor gave him, reading it page by page, asking questions whenever he didn't understand something. His mentor never found him annoying, explaining it once for every question, and explaining it ten times for every ten questions.

Now, it's his turn.

He turned and walked back to his office, sat down, and continued writing the plan. Halfway through, the phone rang. He answered it; it was Zheng Yanxi's voice.

"Jiang Cheng, come home early tonight."

"What's wrong?"

"Jiang Yuan can walk now." Her voice was calm, but Jiang Cheng could hear the excitement beneath that calm.

"real?"

"Yes. This afternoon, he walked five steps from the bedside to the door."

Jiang Cheng held the microphone, unsure what to say. He thought of the little guy, chubby, holding onto the wall, inching along like a little penguin. He suddenly longed to see that scene.

"I'll go back early."

"Um."

After hanging up the phone, he sat at the table, lost in thought for a while. Then he picked up his pen and continued writing. But his mind was filled with the image of Jiang Yuan walking—unsteady, as if he might fall at any moment, yet every step he took was resolute.

He smiled.

When he got home that evening, it was already dark. The snow had started falling again, light and fine, like grains of salt. He shook the snow off himself and opened the door. The house was warm and cozy; the stove was burning brightly, and the iron kettle sat on top, bubbling and steaming.

Jiang Yuan was standing by the crib, his hands gripping the edge, his legs trembling. When he saw Jiang Yuan come in, the little guy let go of his hands, took two steps toward him, and then plopped down on the floor.

"Dad—Dad—" he called out, his words unclear, but Jiang Cheng heard him clearly.

He crouched down and reached out his hand. Jiang Yuan crawled two steps, grabbed his fingers, and stood up. Then he let go, took two more steps, and threw himself into his arms.

"Good boy." Jiang Cheng picked him up and lifted him above his head. The little guy giggled, his laughter as clear and crisp as a bell.

Zheng Yanxi poked her head out of the kitchen, a spatula in her hand, her apron stained with oil. She looked at the father and son, a slight smile playing on her lips.

"Look at you, you're teasing him as soon as you get back. He won't be able to sleep in a bit."

"If he doesn't want to sleep, then he doesn't have to. I'll stay with him."

Zheng Yanxi shook her head, retreated to the kitchen, and continued cooking. The sound of the spatula hitting the wok, mixed with the sizzling of oil fumes, echoed in the small kitchen.

Jiang Cheng carried Jiang Yuan and walked around the room. The little guy was restless, sometimes grabbing his nose, sometimes pulling his ears, and sometimes pointing at the clivia on the windowsill and making "ah ah" noises.

"Those are flowers," Jiang Cheng said. "Flowers."

"Flower—" Jiang Yuan imitated, though it didn't sound quite right, but Jiang Cheng thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

During the meal, Jiang Cheng told Zheng Yanxi about Wang Xiaojun's desire to go to university. After listening, Zheng Yanxi put down her chopsticks and looked at him.

"You agreed?"

"I agreed."

"Won't he be working and reading at the same time? Will he be able to manage that?"

"Even if you're exhausted, you still have to work hard," Jiang Cheng said. "I went through the same thing back then."

Zheng Yanxi looked at him without saying a word. After a while, she suddenly said, "I want to take the exam too."

Jiang Cheng was taken aback: "What kind of test?"

"Medical Qualification Exam. I failed last year, by three points." She lowered her head. "I want to take it again this year."

Jiang Cheng put down his chopsticks and looked at her. Her face was expressionless, but he knew she was upset. Three points short, just a tiny bit more.

"Then take the test," he said.

"But Jiang Yuan—"

"I'll take you. I'll take you tonight, you go read."

Zheng Yanxi looked up at him and said, "You're so busy."

"I have to take you, even if I'm busy," Jiang Cheng said. "Your business is more important than mine."

She didn't speak, lowered her head, and continued eating. But Jiang Cheng noticed a glint in the corner of her eye.

Outside the window, the snow had stopped. The moon peeked out from behind the clouds, shining its light on the clivia on the windowsill. Four flowers had bloomed, each facing the moon.