Era: Starting from the local police station

"Zhenghua, you should know about the background of this factory, right?"

"I know a little. It was a joint state-private factory. The original owner was named Liu Jing. My father worked there back then, but it was much smaller than it is now."

Knowing he was coming to this machinery factory, Jiang Zhenghua did some research beforehand.

After the founding of the People's Republic of China, the state carried out socialist transformation of national capitalist industry and commerce.

In 1953, Liu Jing took the initiative to contact the Bureau of Industry and Commerce and apply for joint public-private ownership, making him one of the earliest business people in Beijing to align themselves with the Party.

The transformation was completed in 1954, and the profit distribution method adopted at that time was "four-way profit sharing".

The "four-way profit sharing" refers to the following: 30% going to national taxes, 30% to corporate reserves, 20% to employee welfare expenses, and 20% to capital dividends.

After 1956, the policy changed, and enterprises were incorporated into the national planning system and began to implement a fixed interest policy.

From then on, those capitalists withdrew from factory management.

Liu Jing was no different; he became a director of the factory but no longer participated in management, receiving only a fixed dividend of five percent each year.

Jiang Zhenghua nodded to Qin Weijun and the other man who approached, then asked, "Chief Qiao, I heard my father mention before that Liu Jing only has one daughter?"

Qiao Fuping paused. "That's right. He married two concubines and one legal wife. Only his current wife, the second concubine, bore him a daughter. I guess that's why he was so quick to agree to the joint venture back then."

Zhang Yi whispered to himself, "He has no choice but to join the joint venture; he has such a huge fortune, and no one will inherit it."

This statement is not unfounded; it mainly reflects the serious problem of male chauvinism in today's society.

The group walked a short distance.

Suddenly, the view opened up before me.

The red brick and tile walls on both sides sloped and narrowed, revealing a small square in front of us. Behind us was a large, tightly closed iron gate, while only the small pedestrian iron gate next to it was open.

The gilded characters "Red Star Machinery Factory" on the lintel gleamed in the sunlight, and the factory emblem with a sickle, hammer, five-pointed star, and gear on the eaves was quite eye-catching.

Viewed from the front, it is neatly symmetrical, with a distinct Soviet style.

On either side are bluish-gray stone pillars. Below the left pillar stands a security guard on duty, wearing a dark blue uniform and half-holding a Type 56 semi-automatic rifle in his arms.

With a creak, the door on the right, labeled "Guardian Room," opened.

A young man wearing a dark blue hat, a dark blue uniform, a belt slung across his shoulder, and a Mauser pistol holstered in his gun came out.

His right armband was adorned with a striking red armband, embroidered with the words "Security Department of the Machinery Factory".

He stopped a short distance away, saluted, and said, "Comrade, this is a restricted area of ​​the factory. Unauthorized personnel are prohibited from entering."

Qiao Fuping stepped forward, raised his hand in return, and lowered his hand before saying, "Comrade, hello, I am Qiao Fuping, the director of Taotiao Hutong Police Station. I had an appointment with your Section Chief Cheng."

At this moment, the door to the gatehouse opened again.

A middle-aged man in his forties, dressed in a cadre uniform and with a straight posture, came out and extended his hand from afar, smiling and saying, "Director Qiao, welcome to the machinery factory to guide our work."

Qiao Fuping also extended his hand and stepped forward to shake hands with the other party: "Section Chief Cheng, I dare not instruct you on your work. I have come here today to ask for your help."

Zhang Chongguang, riding his tricycle, smiled and said, "How could I trouble Section Chief Cheng to personally greet me?"

Cheng Mingli smiled and said, "With two such busy people like you here, how could I wait in the office? This isn't the place to talk, let's go inside."

After saying that, he instructed the person behind him, "Xiao Yang, open the door and let Instructor Zhang ride the motorcycle in."

The security guard behind him, Xiao Yang, immediately responded and jogged forward to open the large iron gate.

Zhang Chongguang nodded to Cheng Mingli and rode inside.

Qin Weijun and Zhang Yi also pushed their carts and followed.

Cheng Mingli greeted Jiang Zhenghua and his colleague, saying, "Please come in, gentlemen. Let's talk in my office."

Qiao Fuping said, "Let's go, let's try Section Chief Cheng's good tea today."

Cheng Mingli led the way, and upon hearing this, he smiled and said, "I wouldn't call it fine tea, but you've come at just the right time. My friend just sent me two cans of his own Biluochun tea, and the taste is absolutely authentic."

The three entered through the small door.

The wide bluestone path is flanked by lush Chinese scholar trees, and the chirping of summer insects can be heard from above.

Jiang Zhenghua looked to his right.

Two rows of bicycles were neatly arranged under a wooden shed, and Zhang Chongguang and his two companions were coming out of it.

Led by Cheng Mingli, the group walked along the bluestone path into the interior.

Not far ahead, neat rows of red brick factory buildings appeared on both sides, with slogans pasted on the walls, some faded and others bright and vibrant.

"Strive to be the best."

"Unite and work hard!"

"To contribute to socialism."

"Strive for socialist industrialization."

"The working class leads everything."

After walking a short distance, a loud shout came from the road.

"Hey, hey!"

"Lift it up, move forward!"

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound.

At the entrance of the workshop, a military green GAZ truck was parked backwards, with several strips of yellow tape stuck to its windshield.

There were several obvious dents on the hood at the front of the truck, and a large crater was even dented into the side of the cargo box.

Jiang Zhenghua sighed. If this were in later generations, it would definitely be considered an accident vehicle. Who would dare to drive it out?

But in this era, these trucks are the prized possessions of every factory.

His gaze shifted backward.

At the wide exit of the workshop, a group of men wearing patched clothes were lifting a heavy piece of equipment with their shirts open, their backs bent, veins bulging, and faces flushed.

Two men beside him were waving their hands and shouting slogans.

The burly man moved unsteadily toward the truck, his steps faltering as he chanted.

Seeing that the group had stopped and were looking in that direction, Cheng Mingli explained, "That's the second processing workshop. We recently built several new factory buildings, and to facilitate management and improve efficiency, we established a new machine tool processing workshop. They're moving the machine tools out of the workshop and transporting them there by truck."

Zhang Chongguang asked, "Section Chief Cheng, judging from their clothes and appearance, these comrades don't seem to be workers from your factory, do they?"

Cheng Mingli said with a proud smile, "Instructor Zhang has a good eye; these people are definitely not what they seem. Our factory has recently taken on several large projects, and we're a bit short-handed, so we've hired some temporary workers from outside to help out."

He paused briefly, then continued, "The vast majority of these people were recruited from the countryside. We city folks who do odd jobs find this work too tiring and don't want to do it."

Zhang Yi sighed, "This job doesn't look easy at all."

Jiang Zhenghua saw that there were also young boys among them, some wearing tattered cloth shoes with holes in them, revealing their toes; some were as thin as bones, but their veins were bulging.

Seeing this, Jiang Zhenghua felt uneasy.

Does my older brother do the same thing every day when he goes out?

Looks like I need to think of a way to get my older brother a proper job.

Then he sighed.

Who are these people's fathers?

And whose son is he?

And whose brother is he?

Do they think they'd feel bad if they saw this?

But then again, isn't it these very people who will propel China's future rise?

It's often said that this generation has suffered the hardships of three generations, and that's certainly true.