PDLP Chapter 33 Didn't Sleep
Chapter 33 Didn't Sleep
Jiang Cheng smiled: "That's what Master said too."
Zheng Yanxi smiled, but as she smiled, tears began to fall. Jiang Cheng reached out and gently pulled her into his arms.
"Don't cry, I'm perfectly fine, aren't I?"
Zheng Yanxi buried her face in his chest and said in a muffled voice, "Who's crying? I'm not crying."
"Yes, it's the little puppy crying," Jiang Cheng comforted him.
"Hey~ you're just being sarcastic!" Zheng Yanxi burst into laughter through her tears.
Jiang Cheng held her, feeling a sense of peace. No matter how many storms raged outside, at least there was this place, and this person, waiting for him to return.
That evening, Zheng Yanxi cooked a table full of dishes. As Jiang Cheng was eating, he suddenly remembered something, took a paper package out of his bag, and handed it to her.
"What?"
"Pastries from Shanghai. I queued for two hours to buy them."
Zheng Yanxi opened the paper package, inside were several delicate pastries. She took one, took a bite, and then nodded: "Delicious."
Jiang Cheng watched her eat and suddenly said, "Yanxi, I'll bring you things whenever I go on business trips in the future."
Zheng Yanxi looked up at him, her eyes bright: "Okay."
The two ate and chatted. Jiang Cheng talked about Shanghai, Beijing, and the hydraulic press. Zheng Yanxi listened attentively, occasionally asking a question or nodding.
Finally, Jiang Cheng suddenly said, "Yanxi, there's something I want to discuss with you."
"What?"
"The ministry asked me to write a textbook about equipment modification. I'd like to have my mentor write it with me. After it's finished, I'll probably have to travel to different places to give lectures, which means I'll be traveling even more often in the future."
Zheng Yanxi was silent for a moment, then said, "Go ahead."
Aren't you afraid I'll never come back?
Zheng Yanxi looked at him and said earnestly, "Jiang Cheng, I understood what was going on when you left last time. You're destined for great things, and this factory can't hold you back. I won't stop you, nor will I hold you back."
She lowered her head, her voice becoming very soft: "I only ask one thing of you."
"What?"
"No matter where you go, remember to write to me."
Jiang Cheng felt a surge of warmth in his heart and grasped her hand: "Okay, I promise you."
That night, Jiang Cheng lay in bed, listening to the chirping of insects outside the window, feeling unusually calm. He knew that starting tomorrow, new challenges awaited him. Zhou Chuanming wouldn't give up easily; the textbooks, the lectures, the nationwide promotion—none of these were easy tasks.
But he wasn't afraid. Because he not only had ability, but also powerful backers, a master, Yanxi, and those who supported him.
Outside the window, the moonlight was bright. In the distance, the machines in the factory were still roaring.
It was late autumn of 1979, a season full of hope.
The transfer order from Beijing arrived at the Red Star Factory one late autumn afternoon.
Jiang Cheng was squatting in the workshop discussing a modification plan for an old milling machine with Huang Deqing when Xiao Wang from the factory office rushed in, holding a large kraft paper envelope: "Jiang Cheng! An urgent message from Beijing!"
The workers in the workshop all stopped and looked around curiously. Jiang Cheng took the envelope, opened it, and inside was a document stamped with the official red seal of the Ministry of Machinery Industry. He quickly glanced through it, his brows furrowing slightly.
"What's wrong?" Huang Deqing asked.
Jiang Cheng handed over the document. Huang Deqing put on his reading glasses, looked at it for a long time, then looked up, a complex light in his eyes: "Transferring you to Beijing to write teaching materials? That's a good thing."
"That's good news." Jiang Cheng folded the document and stuffed it into his pocket. "But time is tight; I have to report for duty next Monday. Today is Thursday."
Huang Deqing stood up and dusted off his knees: "Then stop dawdling and hurry back to pack up."
Jiang Cheng looked at his master and hesitated for a moment: "Master, I told you before that I hoped you would come along too."
Huang Deqing was taken aback: "Me? What am I supposed to do? I'm an old man, I can't even speak Mandarin properly. Don't joke with me."
Jiang Cheng pulled out another piece of paper from his pocket—a letter written in Zhang's own handwriting: "Comrade Huang Deqing has rich practical experience and is indispensable; we hope he will come to Beijing to participate in the compilation work."
Huang Deqing held the paper, his hand trembling slightly. He remained silent for a long time before saying, "Chengzi, do you know why I've never left this factory?"
Jiang Cheng shook his head.
"Because I'm afraid," Huang Deqing said. "Afraid that after I leave, I'll find that I'm nothing. In this factory, I'm a level six fitter, and everyone calls me Master Huang. But in Beijing, will people recognize that?"
Jiang Cheng looked at him and suddenly remembered his own nervousness when he first went to the provincial capital. Back then, he was also afraid, afraid that he, a fitter, would not be able to hold his head high in front of those experts. But later he understood—true skills are not limited by background, and machines do not lie.
"Master, what are you afraid of?" he said. "You've done this your whole life, and you've repaired more machines than they've ever seen. When we get to Beijing, they're the ones who should be bowing their heads, not you."
Huang Deqing looked at him, his eyes slightly red. He knew how hard Jiang Cheng had worked to secure this opportunity for him. After a long while, he patted Jiang Cheng on the shoulder: "Alright, then go. Anyway, this old body of yours should go out and see the world."
The news quickly spread throughout the factory. Factory Director Zhou held a special farewell party. Although it was just a trip to Beijing to compile teaching materials, not a formal transfer, everyone knew that Jiang Cheng was probably not coming back.
"Xiao Jiang, you're one of the people who came from our factory." Factory Director Zhou held up his wine glass, his voice a little hoarse. "When you get to Beijing, don't embarrass our factory."
Jiang Cheng stood up and looked at the familiar faces below the stage—Director Ma, his colleagues in the foundry workshop, and his brothers in the technical innovation team—and suddenly felt a pang of sadness. He hadn't been here long, but every blade of grass and every tree here had become etched into his very being.
"Fellow masters, fellow brothers," he said, "I'm not being transferred, I'm just going to Beijing on a business trip. I'll be back once I've finished the work."
Nobody believed him. But everyone applauded.
After the meeting, Jiang Cheng walked alone in the factory area. The moonlight was bright, shining on the old factory buildings, giving them an indescribable feel. He walked to the entrance of the logistics warehouse and saw that the lights were still on inside. He pushed open the door and saw Huang Deqing squatting on the ground, staring blankly at a pile of parts.
"Master, aren't we going back?"
Huang Deqing didn't even look up: "Let's see. Once I leave, I don't know when I'll be back."
Jiang Cheng squatted down beside him, also looking at the parts. They chatted casually, neither of them mentioning tomorrow.
The next morning, Jiang Cheng and Huang Deqing boarded a train bound for Beijing.
Zheng Yanxi came to see her off at the station. She stood on the platform, wearing a newly made cotton-padded jacket—made of fabric Jiang Cheng had brought back from Shanghai. She couldn't bear to wear it and had kept it until today. As the train started moving, she walked a few steps behind it, then stopped and waved.
Jiang Cheng leaned against the window, watching her until she was out of sight, before retreating back to his seat.
Huang Deqing sat opposite him, his eyes closed, as if he were asleep. But Jiang Cheng knew he wasn't asleep.