PDLP Chapter 50 What happened?
Chapter 50 What happened?
Although life was busy, Jiang Cheng didn't neglect his studies. Professor Fang's research project had already concluded, but the follow-up promotion work had just begun. He taught classes during the day, and after his child went to sleep at night, he would sit at his desk and write materials. Sometimes, while he was writing, his child would cry, so he would put down his pen to comfort him, and then come back to continue writing.
Sometimes Zheng Yanxi would wake up in the middle of the night and see him still writing under the lamp, so she would say softly, "Don't stay up too late, you have class tomorrow."
Jiang Cheng didn't even look up: "It'll be ready soon. You go to sleep first."
But that "immediately" often means two hours.
At the end of September, the provincial promotion office was officially established. Located at Shenyang Industrial College, the office was headed by Jiang Cheng as deputy director, responsible for technical training and the development of promotion plans. Huang Deqing was appointed as a senior technical consultant, specifically responsible for practical guidance.
When the news reached the factory, some were happy, some were worried. Director Ma slapped his thigh and said, "Great news! Our factory has produced a capable person!"
Factory Director Zhou was overjoyed and specially hung a banner in the factory that read, "Warmly congratulate Comrade Jiang Cheng of our factory on taking the lead in the Provincial Equipment Transformation and Promotion Office." The banner was made of red cloth with white paint on the characters. It hung at the factory gate and faded in no time due to wind and sun exposure, but no one dared to take it down.
But some people are very unhappy.
One afternoon in early October, Jiang Cheng was in a meeting at the college when he suddenly received a phone call. It was Director Zhou calling, his voice low: "Jiang, come back right away. Something's happened."
Jiang Cheng's heart sank: "What is it?"
"A few people from the province have come and said they want to investigate your 'historical issues'," Director Zhou's voice was a little tense. "You need to come back right away."
Jiang Cheng hung up the phone and stood in the corridor, his palms sweating. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Historical issues? What historical issues did he have? His father was a martyr, his grandfather was a martyr, three generations of workers, with impeccable revolutionary credentials.
Unless—they found something they shouldn't have found.
He remembered his time-traveling identity. He had never told anyone about it. But if someone were to examine his resume closely, they would find an inexplicable problem—how could a fitter with only a junior high school education suddenly possess engineering knowledge far exceeding that of a university student?
Cold sweat trickled down my back.
He picked up the phone and dialed Huang Deqing's number. The phone rang for a long time before being answered.
"Master, something's happened."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then Huang Deqing's voice came through, as steady as a rock: "Don't panic. What's wrong?"
Jiang Cheng recounted the whole story. After listening, Huang Deqing remained silent for a few seconds, then said, "Chengzi, listen to me. Don't think about anything right now, just come back. Don't talk to anyone on the way, come straight to the factory to find me."
"it is good."
Jiang Cheng hung up the phone, asked Teacher Fang for leave, jumped onto the bus, and rushed back. The bus was crowded, and he was squeezed into a corner, his mind a mess. The street scenes outside the window flashed by frame by frame—shops, factories, residential buildings, schools—everything was the same as usual, but he felt that nothing was different.
He recalled his days before he traveled through time. Back then, he was in the lab, dealing with data and formulas every day, and his biggest worry was whether his papers could be published.
Now he stands in Shenyang in 1979, with a wife, children, and a career, but all of these could be taken away at any moment—if someone discovers his secret.
What should he do?
It was already dark when the bus arrived at the stop. He jumped off and ran towards the factory. The red flag at the factory gate fluttered in the wind, making a "whoosh" sound. The streetlights were not yet on, and the entire factory area was shrouded in a hazy twilight, like a faded old photograph.
Huang Deqing waited for him in the workshop. Only one light was on, casting a dim, yellowish glow on the old machines, casting huge shadows like sleeping giants. The air was thick with the smell of machine oil and rust, mingled with the twilight.
"Master." Jiang Cheng stood at the door, panting.
Huang Deqing emerged from behind a lathe, a wrench in his hand, his face expressionless. He glanced at Jiang Cheng and then said, "Sit down and let's talk."
Jiang Cheng sat down opposite him. Huang Deqing handed him a cigarette and lit one for himself. The two smoked in the dimly lit workshop, neither speaking. The smoke swirled in the lamplight like a thin veil.
"Chengzi," Huang Deqing finally spoke, "tell your master the truth. Where did you learn all those things?"
Jiang Cheng's hand trembled, and the cigarette ash fell to the ground.
He looked up at his master. Huang Deqing's face was obscured by the smoke, but his eyes were bright, like two lamps.
"Master, I—" He opened his mouth, but didn't know how to start.
Huang Deqing waved his hand: "Forget it, no need to say anything. Everyone has their own secrets."
He stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to Jiang Cheng: "Those people came and asked a lot of questions. Your background, your education, how you acquired your skills. I shielded you from them."
Jiang Cheng stood up: "Master, what did you say?"
Huang Deqing turned around, looked at him, and there was something indescribable in his eyes: "I said, I taught him."
Jiang Cheng was stunned.
"I said, from the day you entered the factory, I've been your mentor. I taught you all your skills." Huang Deqing's voice was calm. "They didn't believe me and asked me to provide evidence. I said, I've been doing this for thirty years, and the apprentices I've trained are the evidence."
Jiang Cheng stood there, tears welling up in his eyes.
"master--"
"Don't cry." Huang Deqing's voice was a little hoarse. "Remember, no matter who asks you, just say that I taught you. Don't say anything else."
The wind outside picked up, making the window frame creak and groan. In the distance, the sound of a train whistle drifted in the night wind, like a sigh.
Jiang Cheng rubbed his eyes and nodded heavily.
Huang Deqing walked over and patted him on the shoulder: "Go back. Yanxi is still waiting for you at home."
Jiang Cheng stepped out of the workshop, a cool night breeze hitting his face. He looked up at the sky; the moon was obscured by clouds, with only a few stars twinkling.
He quickened his pace towards home. When he got downstairs, he saw a light on in a fourth-floor window, and Zheng Yanxi's shadow was projected onto the curtains, her head bowed, as if she were comforting a child.
He stood downstairs for a while, then took a deep breath and went upstairs.
He pushed open the door and saw Zheng Yanxi carrying the child inside. The child was awake, crying softly, her voice delicate, like a kitten's meow. Seeing him come in, she looked up, her eyes red.
"You're back?"
"Um."
"What happened?"