Chapter 203

The ding-dong of Sha Zhu's house's renovation hadn't quieted, and the Steel Rolling Mill's annual worker-grade assessment blew in like a gust, rippling the workers' hearts.

This assessment concerned real wages and face; no one dared to take it lightly. The exam hall was set in the largest First Workshop, the machines were temporarily stopped, replaced by tension and the smell of engine oil permeating the air.

The examiners wore solemn expressions, the workers held their breath and focused, and some even had fine beads of sweat forming on their foreheads.

Yi Zhonghai stood at his workstation, his demeanor unchanged, even carrying a leisurely composure.

The assessment for an eighth-level Pliers Worker tested micrometer-level precision and the tactile sense honed over decades. He lifted the workpiece, his gaze focused, the calloused skin on his hand serving as the best ruler. The measuring tools seemed alive in his hands; every motion was precise, steady, exuding unquestionable authority.

A few young workers nearby stared with eyes widened, silently clicking their tongues: "Master Yi's skill is unparalleled!"

The result was unsurprising; Yi Zhonghai successfully advanced to eighth-level Pliers Worker. When the news reached him, he only showed a barely perceptible smile, as if it were expected. The news grew wings and flew back to the Siheyuan at once.

In stark contrast stood his apprentice, Jia Dongxu. Jia Dongxu usually cut corners and shirked technical study, and at the assessment he immediately floundered.

The second-level Pliers Worker assessment was not complicated, yet he fumbled, could not steady the measuring tools, and the parts he machined had absurdly large errors, making the examiners shake their heads. The result was naturally a failure, leaving him still a second-level worker. He hung his head, his face flushed scarlet, wishing he could crawl into a crack in the ground.

In the rear courtyard, Liu Haizhong turned a deep shade of red. He had also applied for the seventh-level Forging Worker; the technical portion was barely passable, but when it came to the cultural exam, his weak foundation was fully exposed. The characters on the test paper recognized him, but he did not recognize them, frantically scratching his ears and cheeks, drenched in sweat, and the paper he finally handed in was almost a blank sheet.

When the results were announced, he failed the cultural exam, his promotion failed, and he remained a seventh-level Forging Worker.

Liu Haizhong was so angry his face turned iron-blue; back in the courtyard he still vented his grievance: "How can this be! For us workers, skill is what matters! Why bother with these pointless cultural exams!"

Where some lament, others rejoice.

Xu Damao's promotion exam for the Projectionist passed smoothly. The kid may be lacking elsewhere, but he's adept at handling the equipment and talking the talk.

He wore a brand-new Zhongshan suit, his hair slicked glossy, and in front of the supervisors he demonstrated and explained, somehow turning the dull projection process into a dazzling spectacle.

After successfully becoming a regular employee, his salary jumped to over forty yuan, and it made him overjoyed; he walked as if on springs, puffing smoke at everyone, afraid anyone wouldn't know that Xu Damao was now a formal worker.

In the cafeteria's back kitchen, Sha Zhu's seventh-level Chef assessment was his personal showcase. He wielded the wok spatula, his wrists flicking, the stove fire obeying him perfectly. A simple vinegar-stir-fried cabbage he somehow cooked to have a meaty flavor, its color, aroma, taste, and appearance flawless.

The examiner tasted a bite, nodded slightly. When the results were posted, Comrade He Yuzhu was promoted to seventh-level Chef, with a salary of forty-one yuan and five cents!

Sha Zhu was so delighted he almost threw the spatula into the air, grinning ear-to-ear, teeth flashing. He immediately wanted to run and tell Ma Dongmei the good news, his steps light enough to seem to float.

The assessment results blew back to the Siheyuan like a gust, instantly sparking a fresh wave of heated discussion.

In the front courtyard, Yan Bu Gui was the first to block Yi Zhonghai as he returned from work, his small eyes sparkling, his face full of envy and a hint of ingratiating smile: "Old Yi! Oh wow, congratulations, congratulations! Eighth-level worker! Impressive! You're one of the top technical masters of our Steel Rolling Mill! That must be the monthly salary, right?" He held up two fingers, clicking his tongue, "Ninety-nine yuan! That's a huge jump from my thirty-seven yuan and five cents, even with a curve! We must treat you to a feast, so everyone can share your good fortune!"

Yi Zhonghai felt gratified inside, but his face remained composed; he waved his hand: "The factory trained me, it's only natural. Treating you is easy, easy." His tone carried an unmistakable pride.

In the Central Courtyard, the Jia family had a different scene. Jia Dongxu, ashamed, curled up inside and dared not come out. Jia Zhangshi, furious, stomped at the doorway, spitting furiously: "It's all because old Yi didn't teach properly! How can he advance to eighth level while our Dongxu can't even pass second level? I think he's hoarding secrets! He has no good intentions!"

She completely forgot what kind of character her son usually was, and shifted all the blame onto Yi Zhonghai.

Qin Huairu listened to her mother‑in‑law's tirade, watched her husband's pathetic demeanor, and felt a chill in her heart. Others' wages were soaring, while her own family saw no sign of improvement; looking ahead… she placed a hand on her belly, sensing the future path growing even darker.

In the rear courtyard, Liu Haizhong's household pressure was frighteningly low. Er Da Ma dared not breathe out. Liu Haizhong locked himself in his room, sighing and muttering nonstop: "Mistake! Pure mistake! Next time… next time will definitely work!" trying to preserve his pitiful leadership dignity.

The news of Xu Damao's regularization made many people sour, but more people turned their gaze toward Sha Zhu.

"Sha Zhu, well done! Quietly, you're a seventh-level chef now! Forty-one yuan and five cents! From now on, won't life soar?"

"Exactly! Marrying a wife and still being so frugal, this kid truly has the luck of a fool!"

"From now on, the cafeteria's dishes should stay close with Zhuzi, so he can give us more slices of meat!"

Yan Bu Gui, after tallying Yi Zhonghai, resumed his mental calculations on Sha Zhu: "Forty-one yuan and five cents… Sha Zhu, you'll become the courtyard's little fat lamb… when you treat us, we'll have to eat a few more pieces of meat to make up for it!"

In the Xi Kua Yuan, Li Ping'an returned from work, and Lin Xueqing, while serving him rice, said: "I heard Zhuzi passed the assessment, seventh-level chef."

Li Ping'an took the rice bowl, nodded: "He only has that level of skill, but at least it's not disgraceful."

His tone was flat, yet carried a barely perceptible approval. To him, the courtyard's ups and downs were merely post‑meal chatter. He cared more about whether the factory's safety production and security work were flawless.

Under the night sky, the Siheyuan's lights lit up in succession, reflecting a vivid picture of mortal life.

From Yi Zhonghai's home faint laughter drifted, the Jia household was a chorus of curses and silence, Liu Haizhong's home was a dull hush, Xu Damao hummed a smug tune inside his room, while Sha Zhu, in the Central Courtyard's still‑unfinished house under a dim yellow light, cheerfully plotted his future, his grin so wide it nearly reached his ears.

The assessment's turmoil has temporarily subsided, but the balance of hearts in the courtyard has subtly tipped as a result. The weight of skill and the thickness of wages, like invisible rulers, have re‑measured each person's standing and voice in the courtyard.

And what stories will this new arrangement spawn? Perhaps only the gentle evening breeze and the silent crabapple in the Xi Kua Yuan will know the next script.