When they returned to the dorm, Xiangyang was there too.
Seeing the four of them, Xiangyang lifted her chin and let out a snort, noisily shoving things into her cabinet.
No one paid her any attention.
Baolan put her belongings into Dingqing’s basin, then suddenly remembered something.
“Where do we hang our clothes after washing them?”
There was no balcony in the dorm—were they supposed to string a line across the middle of the room? Wouldn’t that make everything damp?
Dingqing glanced up at the ceiling. “Maybe we can hang them upstairs?”
“Let’s go check.”
Baolan went to look. The rooftop could indeed be used to string up a clothesline.
Looks like tomorrow, besides buying a thermos, they’d also need to buy a roll of hemp rope. Wang Xiaoping said there was no need—she’d bring one from home.
This time, Wu Niandi went with them to bathe. Xiangyang, as if drawing a clear line between herself and the others, finished tidying up and went off to Room 303 across the hall.
By the time they finished dinner, Rooms 303 and 304 were both occupied.
Xiangyang stormed off with a dark expression. Aside from Tian Lianghui rolling her eyes at her back, the others didn’t care.
Who cared about her? She wasn’t a child—if someone wanted to coax her, that was their business.
That night, Baolan slept in the dorm bed. Without Baozhen’s limbs suddenly flopping over her in the middle of the night, she slept especially soundly.
The next day was a rest day, and the canteen didn’t serve meals. Wang Xiaoping, tasked with the important mission of “bringing back a clothesline,” went home. Wu Niandi still avoided others and ate dry rations in the dorm.
Baolan, Dingqing, and Tian Lianghui went into the city to look around.
They bought some daily necessities. When Tian Lianghui heard that Baolan and Dingqing were pooling money to buy a thermos, she joined in.
With three people sharing the cost instead of two, each paid less, so Baolan and Dingqing were happy to include her.
Because they didn’t have industrial coupons, they bought it from a small shop outside. The shopkeeper asked for 2.8 yuan—three mao more expensive than the state supply cooperative.
Splitting 2.8 yuan among three people was awkward.
Baolan awkwardly tried bargaining the way her mother did. With help from Dingqing and Tian Lianghui, the three of them pestered the shopkeeper until he gave in, lowering the price by one mao. They finally bought a rattan-covered thermos for 2.7 yuan.
After spending the afternoon out, they returned to the cannery and saw more than a dozen well-dressed people standing at the factory gate.
Several young women wore dresses and white blouses. The men were also neatly dressed without patches, their hair styled in fashionable side parts and slicked shiny.
A few men looked around the cannery with critical eyes.
“This factory isn’t that big, is it?”
“There’s not even a family housing compound. I heard we’ll have to stay in dorms!”
“What? We stayed in dorms at the old factory, and we still have to stay in dorms after transferring to the new one? Then what was the point of coming?”
“You don’t even have a girlfriend—what’s wrong with staying in a dorm?”
“Who says I don’t have one?”
“Haha, who? Xue Suping? Hey, Xue Suping, Qiu Lin wants to date you!”
“Damn it, shut up, don’t talk nonsense!”
…
Listening to their carefree banter, Baolan thought—so these people were transferred from the “old factory”?
The three girls exchanged glances.
Dingqing whispered, “There’s an old factory for the cannery?”
Tian Lianghui said, “Where is it?”
Baolan: “…No idea.”
They looked at each other blankly. All country bumpkins, first time being workers—how would they know anything about old or new factories?
A young man in his early twenties noticed them and grinned, beckoning at them like calling puppies.
“Hey, you three—are you workers here? Which department? Production? Logistics?”
“Why aren’t you answering? I’m asking you.”
Dingqing and Tian Lianghui stepped protectively in front of Baolan. After a brief silence, Baolan said, “We’re workshop workers. What about you?”
“Workshop workers?” The man winked at a slightly chubby young man behind him. “Dajun, look—these are all your future troops.”
The chubby man called Dajun smiled modestly. “Don’t talk nonsense. None of our positions have been assigned yet.”
“What, we came all this way to support the new factory and can’t even get some leadership roles…”
Their voices dropped as they huddled together, whispering.
Intimidated by their seasoned, self-assured air, Baolan and the other two avoided them and slipped along the side into the gate. With their factory badges pinned to their clothes, the gate guard uncle glanced at them and let them in.
Since Baolan had chatted with the guard before, she asked, “Uncle Zhou, are they transferred from the old factory? Where is our cannery’s old factory?”
“Them?” Uncle Zhou curled his lip. “They’re from a brother unit in Ju County. Our Mingfeng City only has one cannery—what old factory?”
Seeing how clueless the three girls were, Uncle Zhou added a bit more, “Our factory’s Vice Director Wang was transferred from the Ju County cannery.”
“The leader came all the way to Mingfeng to take charge. Bringing along a dozen or so of his original team is only natural. Totally understandable, totally understandable.”
His words sounded considerate—if not for the undisguised sarcasm on his face.
The three young women looked at him blankly.
Baolan grew curious and asked, “Then Uncle Zhou, where is our factory director from?”
“The director? Director Wu was transferred from the provincial capital. Vice Director Xiong is local.”
Three factory leaders from three different places. Baolan mulled it over but couldn’t make sense of it. Then again, what would a country girl like her know?
“Alright, get back inside!” Uncle Zhou waved them in like shooing chicks. “Why are you hanging around outside? Those are all troublemaking boys from other counties.”
His tone clearly showed his dislike for the Ju County workers.
Baolan scratched her head and went in.
As they passed the office building, they saw Ding Jianguo and He Aihua from the personnel department hurrying toward the gate with a stack of documents.
They were probably going to arrange things for those people outside.
Baolan glanced back, wondering whether only those dozen or so workers had come from Ju County—or if there were more.
She didn’t know yet, but she was certain of one thing: Wang Xiaoping’s plan to become a team leader was probably doomed—unless her relatives could help her.
That “Dajun” at the gate and his companions were clearly here to take leadership roles.
They had experience and backing. Positions like team leader or workshop director would surely be snapped up by them.
Then what chance would locals like them—the “Mingfeng group”—have to stand out?
Baolan let out a snort, unconsciously placing herself among the locals. Looking at the Ju County group, she felt a faint resentment, as if someone had snatched away her share of meat.
Work would start tomorrow, and Baolan was eager to try.
More importantly—tomorrow was payday!
That night, everyone in the dorm went to bed early, all wanting to be well-rested for a promising Monday.
Early the next morning, just after six, people were already moving about in the hallway outside, fetching water and washing up.
Baolan opened her eyes, woke the other five, and went to the communal bathroom to fetch half a basin of cold water, then mixed in hot water to wash up.
Dingqing touched the water temperature, still half-asleep, and muttered, “This thermos really keeps water hot.”
“Of course it does—now get up! The canteen will be crowded soon.”