PDLP Chapter 73 She didn't speak
Chapter 73 She didn't speak
She didn't speak, she just looked at him. In that glance, there was disbelief, expectation, and something else she couldn't quite put her finger on. She turned around, walked back to the table, sat down, and continued reading.
Jiang Cheng stood at the kitchen doorway, holding a bowl, peeling an egg. The egg was very hot, and he blew on it as he peeled it, making the peeled egg smooth and shiny, like a piece of warm jade.
He took a bite; the yolk was still steaming.
"It's delicious," he said.
Zheng Yanxi didn't look up, but the corners of her mouth curved into a smile.
Outside the window, the moon rose, round and bright, shining on the clivia on the windowsill. Three flowers bloomed, each facing the moon.
After Jiang Cheng finished eating the eggs and washed the bowl, he went to the crib, squatted down, and looked at Jiang Yuan. The little guy was sleeping soundly, his mouth slightly open, breathing evenly. His eyelashes were long, like two small fans, casting a light shadow on his cheeks.
"Jiang Yuan," he called softly.
The little guy didn't react.
He called out again, "Jiang Yuan."
The little guy rolled over, kicked off the blanket, and revealed two chubby little feet. Jiang Cheng pulled the blanket back up to cover his feet. The little guy whimpered and then fell into a deep sleep again.
Jiang Cheng stood up, walked to the table, and sat down next to Zheng Yanxi. She took a book out of the drawer and handed it to him.
"What?"
"I just bought a copy of 'Mechanical Design Handbook,' the third edition. My dad said you'll need it."
Jiang Cheng took the book, flipped through it, and found it full of formulas and charts. He glanced at the price—12.8 yuan.
Considering the prices at the time, it wasn't cheap.
"Is it expensive?"
"It's not expensive," she said. "If you can use it, it's not expensive."
Jiang Cheng looked at her, wanting to say something, but didn't. He lowered his head, opened his book, and began to read. They each read their own books, neither speaking. The light from the lamp shone on them, casting their shadows on the wall, close together.
It was late at night. Occasionally, a dog barked outside the window, then silence returned. Jiang Yuan rolled over in his small bed, made a soft "ee-ee" sound, and then fell silent again.
Jiang Cheng closed the book, stood up, and walked to the window. The courtyard was empty, with only a few poplar trees still standing, their bare branches swaying in the wind. The streetlights cast a dim yellow light on the ground, making it look like a blob of ink that couldn't be dissolved.
He turned around and looked at Zheng Yanxi. She was still reading, her brows slightly furrowed, probably encountering some problem. Her fingers lightly traced the pages, reading slowly and attentively, line by line.
"Yanxi".
"Um?"
"Thank you."
She looked up at him and asked, "What are you thanking me for?"
Thank you for waiting for me.
She paused for a moment, then lowered her head and continued reading. But a slight smile played on her lips, and her ears turned red again.
Jiang Cheng smiled. He walked over and turned off the lamp. The room became dark, with only the moonlight from outside shining in through the window, casting a silvery glow on the two of them.
"Go to sleep," he said.
"Um."
Outside the window, the moon slowly moved behind the clouds, and night fell.
Jiang Cheng closed his eyes, his mind still on the fifty landing gears. Three months, ninety days. Each one needed plating, stress relief, grinding, and inspection. Every step had to be flawless. As he thought about it, he suddenly felt a weight on his shoulder. He turned his head and saw Zheng Yanxi's head resting on his shoulder, breathing evenly; she was already asleep.
He didn't move, letting her lean against him. The moonlight outside the window grew dimmer, and the clouds thickened. The night wind picked up, making the window frame creak and groan.
He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
In November, the wind in Shenyang is as sharp as a knife.
In the courtyard of the extension center, the poplar trees were bare, with only a few branches swaying in the wind. Fallen leaves on the ground were swirled up by the wind, then fell again, then swirled up again, like a group of homeless people with nowhere to go. A thin layer of frost had formed on the laboratory windows, which melted as soon as the sun came out, trickling down the glass like tears.
On the morning the first batch of landing gear struts were delivered, Jiang Cheng got up before dawn.
When he arrived at the center, it was just dawn. A military truck was parked in the yard, its body covered in frost, and steam was still rising from the hood, indicating that it had traveled a long way. The two drivers were squatting in the cab eating steamed buns. When they saw him arrive, they quickly jumped out.
"Master Jiang? The goods have been delivered. Please check them." The lead driver handed over a delivery slip, his hands red from the cold, with black dirt under his fingernails.
Jiang Cheng took the delivery slip and looked at it. Fifty pieces, packed in five boxes, ten pieces per box. He opened the first box, inside which were neatly stacked silver-white metal pillars, each wrapped tightly in oil paper. He unwrapped one and shone a flashlight on it; the surface was smooth, without any bumps or rust.
"No problem." He signed the delivery note and handed it to the driver. "Thank you for your hard work. There's hot porridge in the canteen, have a bowl before you go."
The driver waved his hand: "No, I'm in a hurry to get back and report." He paused, then added, "Master Jiang, the army needs this batch of goods. Please take good care of it."
Jiang Cheng nodded: "Don't worry."
The truck drove away, kicking up a cloud of dust. Jiang Cheng stood in the yard, looking at the five boxes of landing gear, for a while. Then he turned and went into his office to make a phone call.
"Deming, come to the center. The goods have arrived."
"Old Zhao, come to the center. The goods have arrived."
"Xiao Jun, come to the center. The goods have arrived."
Half an hour later, everyone was there. Nine people stood in the yard, surrounding the five landing gear crates, like they were surrounding five crates of gold. Sunlight shone on the crates, on each person's face, casting their long, narrow shadows on the ground.
"Let's get started," Jiang Cheng said.
The first batch of ten landing gear units were carried into the laboratory. Jiang Cheng personally operated the coating equipment, with Huang Deqing supervising. Sun Deming was in charge of grinding, Lao Zhao was in charge of inspection, and Wang Xiaojun and the others assisted.
The coating process is slow. Each support needs to be cleaned, degreased, activated, coated, cleaned again, and dried. Every step must be precise; even a slight deviation is unacceptable. Jiang Cheng, wearing gloves and holding a spray gun, coats the support piece by piece. The coating thickness must be controlled to 0.03 millimeters, plus or minus 0.005 millimeters. He measures it with a micrometer every ten minutes; if it's too thick, he stops; if it's too thin, he touches it up.
Huang Deqing stood to the side, silent, simply watching. Occasionally, he would hand over a tool, or nod. His very presence was a reassurance—with him there, Jiang Cheng felt at ease.
By the time the first plating was finished, it was already noon. Jiang Cheng straightened up, his whole body soaked in sweat, his hands trembling.
"Test it," he said.
Old Zhao picked up a micrometer and measured five points on the coating, each accurate to three decimal places. After he finished measuring, he looked at the data and looked up.
"qualified."
Sun Deming was the first to shout, "Good!" and the others followed suit.
Jiang Cheng didn't laugh. He walked to the second one, picked up the spray gun, and continued working.