Chapter 6: A Job That Saves 30 Years of Detours

The Red Star Steel Factory is massive in scale; it began as the pre-liberation Beiping Zhigangchang, and in 1956, after receiving an aid project from the Soviet Union, it transformed overnight from a medium-sized factory of just over two thousand people into a major plant with over ten thousand.

A few hundred meters from the bus stop at the factory's South Gate, one can see a straight, towering factory perimeter wall.

The wall is coated in whitewash, through which one can faintly discern a giant red slogan in imitation Song typeface.

Inside the wall are factory buildings and towering chimneys, emitting thick, gray smoke.

In this era, these chimneys represent the formidable power of heavy industry; no one would ever despise them.

A moment later, with a creak, the bus stopped at the Red Star Factory South Gate stop.

Ning Weidong followed the flow of people off the bus and was just about to walk toward the Manager when he suddenly heard someone call him.

Looking back, a tall, thin man hurried over two steps and said with a smile, "Weidong, you're taking this bus too?"

"Old Lu," Ning Weidong recognized this person as none other than Lu Dayong.

Because the bus was crowded earlier, Ning Weidong had been at the back door and Lu Dayong at the front, so neither had seen the other.

"That..." Lu Dayong scratched the back of his head with a bashful smile, hesitating to speak.

Ning Weidong knew what he wanted to say; everyone started the Black Signature Society for mutual help, and Lu Dayong was the type who couldn't bring himself to ask.

This was also why it was Wu Bingzhong from their same courtyard who came yesterday.

Ning Weidong had money on hand and said readily, "Don't worry, Brother Wu told me yesterday. Isn't it this Saturday? I remember, I definitely won't delay your happy event. By the way, are the things ready? When are you planning to hold the wedding?"

Lu Dayong breathed a slight sigh of relief and gave another hehe smile.

The two chatted as they arrived in front of the factory gate.

The flow of bicycles and people at the entrance converged from the east, west, and south roads, pouring into the Manager.

Ning Weidong and Lu Dayong merged into the crowd and were just about to enter the gate when, at that moment, a car horn suddenly blared.

Looking back, a large bus, blue on the bottom and white on top with a front resembling a seagull spreading its wings, drove over from the distance.

It wasn't a public bus; it was a commuter bus from the factory's vehicle fleet.

In this era, a factory of Red Star Factory's scale prided itself on being "a large factory and mine, a small society," where almost everything a worker needed was provided.

The factory-run kindergartens, primary schools, middle schools, factory-run hospitals, guest houses, large canteens, factory-run clubs, cinemas, dance halls... even the Logistics Department had a section specifically responsible for funerals; whatever one could think of, the Manager took care of it.

The Five Star Group of South Korea, which claims that one cannot live without it from birth to death, is nothing more than this.

It is just that the Five Star Group uses these things to squeeze people by every possible means.

Whereas domestically, at least for now, these supporting facilities are genuinely serving the workers.

The worker is the master of the factory; this is not just a slogan.

Unfortunately, as the external environment and the general direction changed, many things changed as well.

Seeing the commuter bus, Ning Weidong's thoughts drifted, and he thought of many things.

He then shook his head; that was not something he should be considering right now.

The commuter bus drove into the gate, and Ning Weidong and Lu Dayong followed the re-gathering crowd into the factory.

Following the concrete road, turning left past a long row of newspaper display boards, and then passing through a vase-shaped Moon Gate, one can see a large area of red brick and tile houses.

These houses originally belonged to the Logistics Department, totaling five rows from south to north; the west side was the Logistics Department Office, and the three southernmost rows were the nursery.

Starting the year before last, in order to settle youths returning to the city, the Security Division expanded significantly, and since the original dormitory was insufficient, they borrowed the northernmost row of houses from the Logistics Department.

Ning Weidong and Lu Dayong arrived at the first room at the end; the wooden door with peeling paint was open, and a blue cotton curtain hung inside. The upper right corner of the window next to the door lacked glass, and a chimney protruded from inside, with a piece of sheet metal cut into a circle to surround the chimney and plug the window.

Lifting the curtain to enter, a wave of heat rushed toward them, along with the choking smell of smoke.

There were over twenty people in the room, none of them very old.

Along the walls sat a circle of dark red wooden benches; people were gathered in twos and threes, some sitting, some standing, and others with one leg stepped on the edge of a chair, smoking, shooting the breeze, and chatting.

In the middle sat a large cast-iron stove, and next to the stove was a disproportionately small table, which had been moved from the nursery.

A blue hard-cover folder lay on the table.

The folder was open, containing an attendance sheet, with a ballpoint pen tied to the side with a black string.

Ning Weidong walked over, glanced at it, picked up the pen, found his name, and put a checkmark underneath.

After finishing, he handed the pen to Lu Dayong and came back out of the room.

These people in the room were all from the Factory Protection Team.

While called the Factory Protection Team, it was actually just to settle youth employment; the factory couldn't possibly use so many people.

By comparison, the gatekeepers didn't need to drill or endure the wind and rain, and the salary was 17.5 yuan a month.

Ning Weidong walked to the factory's West Gate.

The West Gate was a side gate; usually, no people walked through, only vehicles. The gatekeeper's job was to open and close the gate, record entering and exiting vehicles, and handle incoming and outgoing mail.

Ning Weidong stomped his feet in front of the gatekeeper's Office.

It had snowed just yesterday, and there was snow stuck to the soles of his shoes.

He reached out to pull the door open, and the spring hanging on the door handle made a "creak-creak" sound.

Ning Weidong let go after entering, and the spring pulled the door back, hitting the door frame with a "bang."

"Little Ning, you've finally come," a man in his early thirties, yawning, turned his head to look over.

Ning Weidong observed quickly, and based on his memory, feigned familiarity; while picking up the shift-handover logbook to sign, he said with a smile, "Brother Wang, didn't sleep all night yesterday?"

Generally speaking, there were three people per shift for gatekeepers; if two people left early on the night shift, it was common to leave one behind for the handover.

As long as no mistakes were made, no one would be pedantic.

Brother Wang put on his cotton-padded coat and said, "Don't mention it, more than ten vehicles went in and out during the second half of the night... I'm leaving first."

Without waiting for Ning Weidong to respond, he had already pushed the door and left.

With only one person left, Ning Weidong breathed a sigh of relief and looked around the gatekeeper's Office.

The room was over ten square meters, and facing south was a large window, looking out toward the factory's large iron gate.

Beneath the window was a desk with peeling paint, and on the desk sat a telephone that looked like it had seen many years.

Behind the desk stood a coal-ball stove.

Directly facing the stove, on the right-hand side of the entrance, was an Eight Immortals table, with all sorts of clutter messily piled on top, and half a stash of coal balls stacked underneath, staining that patch of concrete floor pitch-black.

To the east was an entire wall of wooden cabinets, with a half-open door wedged between the Eight Immortals table and the cabinets.

Inside the door was a seven or eight square meter suite containing a bunk bed.

The top bunk had no mattress boards laid out, while the bottom bunk was relatively tidy, with the pillow and quilt folded and stacked, and a military overcoat with the cotton stuffing leaking out tossed onto the bed.

(End of this chapter)