PDLP Chapter 51 On the Verge of Death
Chapter 51 On the Verge of Death
Jiang Cheng walked over and took the child from her arms. The child snuggled in his arms, stopped crying, and looked at him with a pair of bright black eyes.
"It's alright," he said. "It's all in the past."
He sat on the edge of the bed, holding the child. Zheng Yanxi sat down beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. The three of them huddled together, warm and cozy.
Outside the window, the moon peeked out from behind the clouds, shining on the potted plant on the windowsill. The flowers had already faded, but the leaves were still green, gleaming softly in the moonlight.
Jiang Cheng looked down at the child in his arms. The little guy was already asleep, his mouth slightly open, breathing evenly. His fingers were gripping Jiang Cheng's collar tightly, and he couldn't pry them off no matter what he did.
He didn't know what tomorrow would bring. But he knew that no matter what lay ahead, he had already died once, and he was afraid of nothing.
The night wind died down, and the entire factory area fell silent. Only the occasional bark of a dog echoed in the distance, reverberating in the empty night like some ancient signal.
The arrival of people from the province was like a stone thrown into a pond; the surface quickly returned to calm, but the undercurrents beneath the surface continued to surge.
Jiang Cheng went to class as usual, went to work at the factory as usual, and went home to take care of his child as usual. But he was always on edge. He always felt that someone was watching him from the shadows, a feeling like having a block of ice against his back, chilling him to the bone, but when he turned around, there was nothing there.
In mid-October, the promotion office officially launched its work. The first stop was Shenyang Heavy Machinery Plant—one of the largest machinery plants in the province, with over three thousand workers and hundreds of pieces of old equipment. If they could make a breakthrough at this plant, the promotion work would be halfway to success.
The night before his departure, Jiang Cheng was organizing documents under the lamp. Zheng Yanxi sat beside him, holding their child, watching him work, and suddenly asked, "Jiang Cheng, are you going to the heavy machinery factory tomorrow?"
"Um."
"I heard that... someone over there has a problem with you."
Jiang Cheng was taken aback: "Who?"
Zheng Yanxi hesitated for a moment: "I'm not too sure either. I just heard it from my dad. He said someone from the heavy machinery factory said that you're just a fitter, what right do you have to guide their factory's technical upgrades? He told me to be careful."
Jiang Cheng put down his pen and looked at her: "What else did your dad say?"
He said, "Take a few more people with you. Don't go alone."
Jiang Cheng thought for a moment and nodded. The next morning, he went to find Huang Deqing.
"Master, we're going to the heavy machinery factory tomorrow. Would you like to come with me?"
Huang Deqing was sharpening a scraper, and without looking up, said, "Okay."
"Let's also bring Sun Deming. He used to work in a heavy machinery factory, he knows a lot of people, so it'll be easier for him to get things done."
Huang Deqing looked up at him and asked, "Chengzi, have you heard something?"
Jiang Cheng repeated Zheng Yanxi's words. After listening, Huang Deqing was silent for a moment, then said, "Chengzi, do you know who the head of the technical department at the heavy machinery factory is?"
Jiang Cheng shook his head.
"Zhou Chuanming's brother-in-law," Huang Deqing said, "His surname is Qian, and his name is Qian Zhiguo. He's in his early forties, and he's worked in the heavy machinery factory for over ten years. His skills aren't great, but he's incredibly arrogant. If you go there, he'll definitely give you a hard time."
Jiang Cheng's heart sank. Zhou Chuanming's men were indeed everywhere.
"Master, are we still going?"
"Go." Huang Deqing stood up. "Why don't you go? The more afraid you are, the more excited he becomes. If you go, he won't know what to do."
On October 15th, Jiang Cheng took Huang Deqing and Sun Deming to Shenyang Heavy Machinery Factory.
The heavy machinery factory was located in the north of the city, covering an area ten times larger than the Hongxing factory. Two large cement pillars stood at the entrance, bearing the factory's name in white lettering on a red background, written in Mao Zedong's calligraphy style, bold and unrestrained. Inside the gate was a wide cement road, flanked by tall factory buildings, from which the roar of machinery emanated, shaking the ground.
Jiang Cheng and his group were led into a conference room. The conference room was large, seating dozens of people. A white tablecloth covered the long table, with teacups and thermos flasks on it. Several banners hung on the walls—"Advanced Unit in Learning from Daqing in Industry," "Excellent Enterprise of LN Province," and so on—a sea of red that was almost blinding.
They waited for half an hour before someone came in. The leader was a middle-aged man in his forties, with a thin, long face, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, and his hair was neatly combed and shiny, as if it had been smeared with lard. Behind him were four or five people, some old and some young, all wearing clean work clothes, with pens clipped to their breast pockets.
"You're Jiang Cheng?" The man stood at the door, looking him up and down with a scrutinizing and disdainful look in his eyes.
"Yes, that's me. Are you Section Chief Qian?"
"Qian Zhiguo." He walked in, sat down opposite him, crossed his legs, and said, "I heard you're coming to give us some guidance? Our factory's technological upgrades have been going quite well. I wonder what kind of guidance you can offer?"
The atmosphere suddenly turned cold. Sun Deming, standing to the side, looked rather grim and wanted to say something, but Huang Deqing stopped him.
Jiang Cheng remained calm, took out a stack of documents from his bag, and placed them on the table: "Section Chief Qian, we're not here to provide guidance, we're here to exchange ideas. The provincial promotion office is set up to compile the best practices from various factories so that we can learn from each other. We'd like to learn from any good experiences your factory has."
Qian Zhiguo was taken aback, clearly not expecting Jiang Cheng to say that. He picked up the documents and flipped through them, his expression changing several times.
"Did you guys do this?"
"Yes. The experience of Hongxing Factory and several other factories is all summarized here."
Qian Zhiguo put down the documents, looked at Jiang Cheng, and the hostility in his eyes lessened, but his wariness remained: "Alright, I'll take the documents. As for the exchange—our factory is very busy lately, we'll talk about it when we have time."
He stood up, ready to leave. Huang Deqing suddenly spoke up: "Section Chief Qian, I heard that your factory has an 800-ton hydraulic press that has been broken for half a year and can't be repaired?"
Qian Zhiguo paused for a moment: "That's imported equipment, waiting for spare parts. It has nothing to do with you."
"Waiting for parts?" Huang Deqing stood up. "I heard the problem with that machine isn't serious, just an oil leak in the main cylinder seal. It's just a matter of replacing the seal ring, why is it taking half a year?"
Qian Zhiguo turned around, his face somewhat grim: "Master Huang, you make it sound so easy. That's imported equipment; the sealing rings are specially made, and there are no domestic substitutes. What can we do if we don't wait for imports?"
Huang Deqing glanced at Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng nodded.
"Section Chief Qian," Jiang Cheng said, "could we take a look at that hydraulic press?"
Qian Zhiguo hesitated for a moment, then sneered, "Fine, if you want to see, then see. But let me make this clear: if anything goes wrong, you'll be fully responsible!" The gold-rimmed glasses reflected the sinister undertone beneath his gentle gaze.
Jiang Cheng followed Qian Zhiguo into the hydraulic press workshop of the heavy equipment factory. The workshop was huge, about the size of a football field, filled with all sorts of equipment, like a steel forest. The 800-ton hydraulic press stood in the center of the workshop, its body covered in rust, incongruous with the gleaming equipment around it, like a sick giant beast, curled up there, on its last legs.