PDLP Chapter 105 I'll handle it
Chapter 105 I'll handle it
He rubbed it a few times, picked it up to examine it in the light, and rubbed it a few more times. His movements were slow and meticulous, like he was making a delicate handicraft. Sunlight streamed in through the window, shining brightly on his gray hair. His back was more hunched than last year, and his knees would crack after squatting for a long time, but he never complained of pain.
"master."
Huang Deqing didn't look up. "Hmm."
"Old Zhou called. He wants us to go to Beijing to participate in a national-level project."
Huang Deqing paused for a moment, then continued rubbing. "What project?"
"The turbine blades of the WP-7 turbojet engine have insufficient high-temperature fatigue life, which needs to be addressed."
Huang Deqing put down the oilstone and slowly stood up. His back wasn't in good shape, so his movements were slow; he supported himself on his knee with one hand and held onto the equipment with the other, straightening himself little by little. After straightening up, he stretched his back and heard two cracking sounds from his bones. He turned around and looked at Jiang Cheng.
"Turbine blades? Those are from airplanes?"
"Yes. From a fighter jet."
Huang Deqing was silent for a while. He walked to the window and opened it. The rain had lessened, becoming fine and drifting like mist. The yard was flooded, reflecting the sunlight and shimmering. He lit a cigarette, took a drag, and slowly exhaled.
"Chengzi, tell me the truth. Are you confident about this?"
Jiang Cheng thought for a moment. Was he confident? He knew the mechanism of turbine blade failure—high-temperature creep, thermal fatigue, and oxidative corrosion, all coupled together, leading to crack initiation at casting defects. He knew how to solve it—not by eliminating the defects, that was a matter of the casting process, and modifying it would take too long; but by applying protection to the defects, using a thermal barrier coating to delay crack initiation. He also knew the coating's formula, process parameters, and testing methods. This knowledge was common sense in the 21st century, but cutting-edge in the 1980s.
"Master, I'm 70% confident."
Huang Deqing turned around and looked at him. There was something in that gaze, not trust, not doubt, but something deeper, something that had been tempered by time.
"Seventy percent is enough. Back when you repaired that rolling mill, you were only seventy percent sure too."
Jiang Cheng paused for a moment, then smiled. His master remembered. He remembered every machine, every detail.
In the eyes of the master craftsman, those machines were not blocks of iron, but living things with their own temperaments and personalities.
"Master, are you going?"
Huang Deqing stubbed out his cigarette, tossed the butt into the rain outside the window, and with a hiss, a wisp of white smoke rose. "Go. I've never repaired an airplane before. Besides, I'm worried about you going alone. Those experts are all talk and no action; they look down on you. With me, at least I'll have company."
Jiang Cheng felt a surge of warmth in his heart and wanted to say thank you, but he didn't. He knew his master didn't like hearing such things.
Sun Deming was so excited to hear he was going to Beijing to participate in a national-level project that he couldn't sleep all night. When he arrived at the center the next morning, his eyes were red and swollen, like a rabbit's. He grabbed Jiang Cheng's hand and said, "Brother Jiang, is it true? We're going to work on airplane engines?"
"Really. But you didn't do it, you helped me do it. You were my assistant."
"I'll do any odd jobs! I've never even seen what an airplane engine looks like!" Sun Deming rubbed his hands together, pacing back and forth in the office like a monkey in a cage. "Brother Jiang, do you think I should buy a new outfit? Is it too informal to wear work clothes to a meeting in Beijing?"
"Wear work clothes. We're fitters, not managers."
Sun Deming looked down at his work clothes; the cuffs were frayed with white edges, the collar was slightly crooked, and there was an indelible oil stain on the chest. He hesitated for a moment, then said, "Then I'll buy a new set of work clothes. The same kind. I can't let our center down."
Jiang Cheng smiled. "Okay. Buy a new one."
After Sun Deming left, Jiang Cheng sat alone in the lab, staring at the half-disassembled grinding machine. The spindle still lay there, its surface scratched like a scar. He reached out and touched it; it was cool and slippery. He suddenly remembered something—he was going to Beijing, for at least a month. Who would manage the center's affairs during that month? Han Zhiguo could handle administrative matters, but what about the technical ones? What about the ongoing projects? He stood up and went to find Han Zhiguo.
"Director Han, what are your plans for the center's technical work during my time in Beijing?"
Han Zhiguo was writing a report. He put down his pen and thought for a moment. "Have Lao Zhao keep an eye on things. He's experienced and can handle most tasks. If he can't, wait for you to come back. Or call him."
Jiang Cheng nodded. Although Old Zhao's skills weren't as good as Sun Deming's, he was steady and wouldn't cause any major trouble. He turned to leave, but Han Zhiguo called him back.
"Jiang Cheng, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."
"What is it?"
"The provincial department is currently discussing a document regarding the 'Qualification Certification of Technology Promotion Agencies.' If the document is approved, our center's rating will be affected. It's not directly targeting us, but rather all local promotion agencies. But you know, Zhou Chuanming is still in the department. Although he no longer manages the technology, his words still carry weight."
Jiang Cheng's heart sank. He hadn't heard the name Zhou Chuanming in a long time. Not that he'd forgotten it, but that he'd deliberately avoided thinking about it.
He thought the matter was over, but now it seems it wasn't. Zhou Chuanming simply changed his approach.
"Director Han, when will we discuss this document?"
"Next month. You'll be in Beijing then, so I might need you to come back or ask someone in the department to put in a good word for you."
Jiang Cheng was silent for a moment. "Director Han, please keep an eye on things. I'll be back whenever you need me."
That evening, Jiang Cheng went to the city hospital. Zheng Yanxi was on the night shift, and it was almost nine o'clock when he arrived. There were still patients in the emergency room, and she was busy. He sat on a bench in the waiting area, waiting. The lights in the waiting area were white, making people's faces look bloodless. The wall clock clicked, the second hand turning round and round. He looked at the second hand, his mind filled with two things—the turbine blades and Zhou Chuanming. The two things were like two ropes, twisted together, making it hard for him to breathe.
An hour later, Zheng Yanxi came out of the emergency room and saw him sitting on a bench. She paused for a moment. "Why are you here? Didn't you say you were going to Beijing?"
"I'm leaving tomorrow. I came to tell you."
She walked over and sat down beside him. She was wearing a white lab coat, her hair tucked into her cap, and her face showed signs of fatigue. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. "How long will you be gone?"
"I don't know. It could be a month, or it could take longer. It depends on the project's progress."
She was silent for a moment. "What about Jiang Yuan?"
"Send them to Grandma's. My mom has also arranged it, the two families will take turns taking care of them."
She opened her eyes and looked at him. The white light shone on her face, making her skin appear very white and her eyes seem exceptionally dark. "Now that you're in Beijing, don't worry about things at home. I'll handle it."