Lu Weidong looked at her red, swollen eyes and her determined expression. He nodded. “Very well. I’ll wait for you.”
Zhao Guixiang beamed through her tears, wiping them away with the back of her hand. “Then… don’t ever say we’re done for, all right?”
Lu Weidong gave a soft “Mmm.”
They stood together at the lane entrance for a while. Then, afraid her family would notice she was gone, Guixiang turned to leave. A few steps on, she glanced back at him once more before hurrying away into the distance.
Lu Weidong stood watching her go, then lifted his face to the sky and let out a long, steady breath. Things… were now secure.
When the Zhao family finally relented and sent word: “The matter of the job is forgotten. The marriage shall proceed as planned,” Lu Weidong felt no surprise at all.
He returned home and told Wang Xiulan the news. At first she stared in stunned silence, then began repeating joyfully: “Excellent! Excellent! This is how it should be!”
Even Lu Jianguo wore a rare smile. “Splendid, splendid. Let us begin making all necessary preparations.”
Lu Lichun, listening nearby, could not help rolling her eyes. What thoughts lay behind them, no one could tell.
Inside her room, Lu Jinxia heard the growing commotion and knew the matter had been resolved. She did not step out to ask. She simply turned over and closed her eyes. None of this concerned her.
The next morning, she rose at her usual hour and set off. As she reached the lane entrance, Liu Xiaomei came darting out of the side alley—just as she always did. Liu Xiaomei was her new friend at the printing factory; they lived in the same neighbourhood, though Liu Xiaomei’s home was in the family compound of a different factory, not the Machinery Plant’s.
Liu Xiaomei came running up, half a steamed bun in hand, chewing as she ran. “Jinxia! You didn’t wait for me again!”
“Short legs run slow—blame no one but yourself.”
Liu Xiaomei huffed, shooting her a sharp look, but soon trotted up beside her, beaming, and slipped an arm through hers. “Hey, have you heard? There’s a full-factory meeting this afternoon. Director Sun himself is going to address everyone!”
“You certainly keep your ear to the ground.”
“Naturally! My cousin works as a clerk in the workshop office—she hears everything before anyone else!” Liu Xiaomei said proudly. “Word is they’re honouring the work teams with the highest output last month. And ours… looks like we’re among the top few!”
Lu Jinxia murmured “Is that so,” already turning the matter over in her mind.
Upon arriving at the factory, they changed into their work uniforms. Sister Zhang was already there. Lu Jinxia stepped over and greeted her. “Good morning, Sister Zhang.”
“Morning.” Sister Zhang straightened up and glanced at her. “I left in such a hurry yesterday—forgot my lunchbox. Where did you put it?”
“On the third shelf, covered with a towel.”
Sister Zhang nodded, saying no more.
The morning’s work proceeded as usual. Lu Jinxia’s hands moved quickly—she finished her own tasks and then helped Liu Xiaomei with hers. Liu Xiaomei accepted the help, grumbling the while: “How do you move so fast? I’m always one beat behind you!”
“Talk less, and you’ll catch up.”
“I’m only slow because I’m talking to you!” Liu Xiaomei protested. “If I stopped talking, I could keep up too!”
She clamped her mouth shut for five minutes, and sure enough, her pace improved. Unable to contain herself, she burst out laughing. “There! What did I tell you!”
Lu Jinxia smiled, too, and said nothing to contradict her.
At midday, they gathered around a table in the canteen, lunchboxes in hand. Liu Xiaomei brought a small jar of pickled vegetables—freshly made by her mother—and shared them around. Sister Zhang silently picked two pieces of braised pork from her own box and placed them in Lu Jinxia’s.
Lu Jinxia looked down but made no show of refusing. She ate them. “Sister Zhang… this braised pork tastes even better than my mother’s.”
Sister Zhang’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“It’s the honest truth.” Lu Jinxia helped herself to another bite without so much as a change in expression.
From beside them, Sister Li chimed in. “This girl… such a sweet tongue! Last time my husband came by to drop something off, she called him ‘Brother-in-Law Li’ so warmly that the poor man didn’t know where to look!”
Everyone laughed.
Just then, Liu Xiaomei suddenly remembered something. She set down her chopsticks and leaned in. “Hey, Jinxia… do you remember that business the other day?”
“What business?”
“When you spotted the printing error!” Liu Xiaomei’s eyes lit up. “My cousin told me that Director Sun was touring the workshop that very moment. You spoke up loud and clear—and made quite the impression on the leadership!”
Lu Jinxia’s chopsticks paused mid-air. She remembered it well.
It had been the afternoon of two days prior. The assembly line was rushing to print a batch of textbooks. Lu Jinxia, having finished her own stack, had idly flipped through a finished copy—and something felt wrong. She leaned in and examined it closely: the page numbering was off. Page 56 had been printed as Page 65. Worse still, the content on that page bore no connection to what came before or after—clearly a typesetting error where lines had been jumbled.
She said nothing to the others, but took the sample directly to their team leader.
Team Leader Ma was in his forties, with over a dozen years at the factory. Skilled at his trade, yes—but timid, and terrified of shouldering responsibility.
Lu Jinxia handed him the sample and pointed. “Team Leader Ma… look here. The page number and the content don’t match. It appears to be a typesetting error.”
Team Leader Ma took the book, flipped through it, and his face fell. “Good heavens… so it is.” He frowned deeply. “If this were printed and distributed… it would be a major production incident.”
“Should we stop the line first, Team Leader?” Lu Jinxia suggested. “Otherwise everything printed from here on out will be scrap. Paper wasted… machine time wasted.”
Team Leader Ma hesitated. “This… I must report this to the Workshop Director first. I cannot halt production arbitrarily.”
Just then, footsteps echoed from the corridor. From the corner of her eye, Lu Jinxia saw a group of men approaching. At their head was Deputy Director Sun Deming; behind him walked Workshop Director Lao Zhou and several others she did not recognise—men whose bearing and dress marked them as factory leaders.
Lu Jinxia thought quickly. She spoke clearly, neither too loud nor too soft—loud enough to carry to the corridor:
“Team Leader Ma… if these textbooks go out with errors, it won’t just be our factory’s reputation that suffers. If schools are given incorrect materials, the consequences will be far-reaching. Perhaps you should speak to Director Zhou straightaway? Surely halting production temporarily is better than wasting everything?”
Her reasoning was sound. Her voice carried just far enough. As Team Leader Ma still wavered, Sun Deming and his party drew near.
“What is the trouble?” Director Zhou spoke first.
Team Leader Ma hurried to greet them. “Director Zhou, Director Sun—just as you arrived. We’ve discovered a misprinted page in this batch of textbooks. Page numbers and content do not align… appears to be a typesetting error.”
Although Sun Deming held the title of Deputy Director, everyone addressed him simply as Director Sun. After all—no good soldier aims to remain a soldier forever.
The Factory Director, Zhang Yuanchao, was nearing retirement. Barring the unexpected, Sun Deming would succeed him. Already Zhang Yuanchao was stepping aside—letting Sun Deming preside over meetings and address gatherings. Sun Deming was his protégé, hand-picked and groomed; Zhang Yuanchao was more than willing to yield him the stage.