PDLP Chapter 81 Next Month's Exam
Chapter 81 Next Month's Exam
Zheng Yanxi looked at him, said nothing, lowered her head, and continued to drink her porridge.
Jiang Cheng looked at her, then suddenly remembered something and took the opportunity to break the silence: "Yanxi, how's your medical qualification exam review going?"
"It's alright. I've finished my internal medicine appointment and am halfway through my surgery appointment."
When is the exam?
"next month."
"Do your best on the exam. Don't worry about me."
She looked up at him, a slight smile playing on her lips: "Can your affairs and my affairs be separated?"
Jiang Cheng remained silent.
The porridge was made with millet and cooked until very thick. Drinking it warmed my stomach.
After finishing his meal, Jiang Cheng washed the dishes, then sat down at the table, took out his notebook, and began to write. He wrote slowly, word by word. It wasn't a plan, not a proposal, but a list. He wanted to list everything the promotion center had done since its inception. Which equipment had been modified, and what were the results? Which personnel had been trained, and where are they now? Which technologies had matured and could be promoted? These were the reasons for the promotion center's existence. If someone asked during the review, "What have you done?", he needed to have something to show for it.
He chuckled inwardly, never expecting that the later-advocated principles of "leaving a mark on iron" and "leaving a trace on everything" wouldn't seem so abhorrent now.
Around noon, there was a knock on the door.
He opened the door, and Sun Deming stood there, his face red from the cold, a drop of clear snot hanging from his nose.
"Brother Jiang, I've heard about it." His voice was a little hoarse. "Is it true?"
Jiang Cheng stepped aside to let him in: "Really? Come in and sit down to talk."
Sun Deming walked in and stood in the room, unsure where to sit. He rubbed his hands, the backs of which were covered in chilblains, red and purple in patches. Jiang Cheng brought him a small stool.
Before they could even sit down, Sun Deming continued, "So, what do we do next?"
"Wait a bit." Jiang Cheng poured him a glass of water. "Are you still able to get back to Anshan Iron and Steel?"
Sun Deming took the cup but didn't drink. "I can go back. The factory manager said I can go back anytime. But—" He looked up at Jiang Cheng, "I don't want to go back."
Why?
"Because I can get things done here. Back at Ansteel, I'd be repairing machines. There are endless machines to repair; they break down again after being fixed, and then I repair them again. Here, I teach others how to repair them. If one person learns, they can teach ten. If ten people learn, they can teach a hundred. This is more interesting than repairing machines."
Jiang Cheng looked at him, a feeling he couldn't quite describe welling up inside him. This young man had followed him for a year, going from knowing nothing to being able to operate the coating equipment independently, and then to being able to mentor apprentices.
He changed. Not in terms of his skills, but in his mindset. He no longer saw himself as a machine repairman, but as a "seed."
"Deming," Jiang Cheng said, "don't worry. The center won't collapse. Even if it does, the technology won't. No one can take away what you've learned."
Sun Deming nodded, drank the water in his cup in one gulp, and stood up: "Brother Jiang, I'll head back now. Call me if you need anything."
He walked to the door, then stopped and turned back: "Brother Jiang, Wang Xiaojun asked me to ask you, does his college entrance exam still count?"
Jiang Cheng was taken aback for a moment, then laughed: "It counts, of course it counts!"
Sun Deming smiled, pushed open the door, and left.
Jiang Cheng stood by the window, watching Sun Deming's figure disappear into the alleyway. Sunlight shone on the snow, reflecting a dazzling light. He squinted, suddenly realizing that this winter was colder than in previous years.
But he knew that spring would always come.
After the suspension notice was issued, the people in the promotion center dispersed.
Sun Deming returned to Ansteel, Lao Zhao returned to the mining plant, and the other seconded personnel also returned to their original units. The courtyard was empty, the laboratory was locked, and a layer of dust covered the office windows. Only the sign at the entrance, "Shenyang Branch of the National Center for the Promotion of Technology for the Renovation of Old Equipment," remained, hanging forlornly on the wall, exposed to wind and sun, its white paint peeling off to reveal the wood underneath.
Jiang Cheng went to work at the factory every day as usual, returning to the technical innovation team to work. Huang Deqing remained the same, squatting in the workshop, repairing machines and training apprentices. When the two met, they didn't say anything, just nodded. But Jiang Cheng knew that his master wasn't at ease either.
One day at noon, after lunch, Jiang Cheng was sharpening a scraper in the workshop. Huang Deqing came over, squatted down next to him, and offered him a cigarette.
"Chengzi, have you finished writing that list?"
"It's finished. One hundred and twenty-seven devices, ninety-two trainees, every single one is recorded."
Huang Deqing nodded, lit a cigarette, and took a puff.
Do you think the reviewers will even look at it?
Jiang Cheng thought for a moment: "Whether they read it or not is their business. Whether I write it or not is my business."
Huang Deqing looked at him and nodded. The cigarette gradually shortened with the rhythm of his breathing, and the sparks flickered. The smoke rings he exhaled disappeared in the wind before they were even half a meter away.
After finishing their cigarettes, the two went their separate ways to do their own work.
Jiang Cheng continued sharpening the knife. The blade made a "shush-shush" sound on the whetstone, like autumn leaves falling. After sharpening for a while, he held the knife up to the light. There was a thin, even, and sharp line on the blade. He put the knife down, leaned it against the wall, and closed his eyes.
Sunlight streamed in through the window, warming his face. The workshop was quiet, save for the distant, faint hum of machinery, like a heartbeat.
He didn't know when he fell asleep. When he woke up, he was covered with a cotton-padded coat. It was Huang Deqing's, an old cotton-padded coat, the cuffs worn white, and it smelled of tobacco. He sat up and saw Huang Deqing squatting in the corner, repairing an old water pump. The sound of the wrench hitting the metal was clanging and tinkling, like blacksmithing.
He folded his cotton-padded coat, placed it on the stool, and walked over.
"Master, I'll do it."
Huang Deqing neither gave way nor refused. Jiang Cheng squatted down, took the wrench, and continued repairing. The two squatted together, just like before, one taking apart and the other putting back together, neither of them saying a word.
After fixing the water pump, Huang Deqing stood up and stretched his back. His back wasn't very good; he couldn't straighten up after squatting for a while and had to hold onto the wall for support.
"Chengzi, do you think our technique might be lost?"
Jiang Cheng was taken aback for a moment: "No."
How did you know?
"Because people are learning it. Wang Xiaojun is learning it, Sun Deming is learning it, and all ninety-two students are learning it. Once they learn it, they will teach it to others, so it won't be lost."
Huang Deqing looked at him and suddenly smiled: "Your words are reassuring. Your greatest skill isn't your technical ability, but your ability to see far ahead."
Jiang Cheng's heart skipped a beat, but Huang Deqing didn't say anything more. He turned around and left. His figure grew farther and farther away under the lamplight, becoming more and more hunched, but his steps remained steady.
Jiang Cheng stood there for a long time, watching his master's retreating figure.
A few days later, Jiang Cheng received a phone call.
The call was from Wang Xiaojun, who sounded very excited: "Master, I received the notification! The exam is next month!"