Chapter 245: Undercurrents in the Steel Rolling Mill

In 1960, the Steel Rolling Mill was like a weary yet forced-to-roar iron behemoth, laboring painfully under the shackles of material scarcity.

The blast furnace still belched clouds of smoke, and the workshop's machine tools kept roaring, but on closer inspection the workers' faces had grown even sallower, and the vigor they once brought to their labor seemed partially drained by an invisible hand, leaving them forced and numb.

Li Ping'an, dressed in a work cotton uniform, walked along the main road of the plant. As Head of the Security Department, he keenly sensed that beneath the fatigue and anxiety pervading the whole mill, a more hidden undercurrent was flowing— the increasingly subtle power struggle between the two principal leaders of the factory.

Factory Director Yang Weiguo, a career military man with broad shoulders and a round waist, spoke and acted with the thunderous decisiveness of a soldier and an unmistakable hardness.

He treated production like a war, demanding that targets be met, discipline be strict, and despising any cheating, shirking, or slacking. In his view, the Steel Rolling Mill was a battlefield; failing to fulfill production tasks was the gravest dereliction.

Vice‑Factory Director Li Huaide, however, had a different style. He was slender, wore black‑rimmed glasses, and always wore a smiling, easygoing expression. He oversaw logistics, personnel, and some external contacts; he was resourceful, had many tricks, and was adept at coordinating relationships and procuring off‑plan supplies.

Some called him a "smiling tiger," while others thought that in these hard times, the real skill was being able to bring in things that kept the mill running and gave the workers a bit of benefit.

Li Ping'an knew in his heart that the two—one embodying absolute order and production targets, the other embodying flexible pragmatism and personal ties—had differing philosophies, making friction inevitable.

And as the Security Department chief who wielded real authority, having earned great merit in a previous capture of enemy spies, his prominence made him a target for both sides to court.

Sure enough, just as he reached the office building, Li Huaide's secretary jogged over with a smile on her face: "Li Chief, Director Li asks you to come to his office for a quick discussion."

Li Ping'an understood, nodded, and said, "Alright, I'll go right away."

In the Vice‑Factory Director's office, Li Huaide was holding a teacup, watching the plant's scenery through the window. When Li Ping'an entered, he turned instantly, greeting warmly, "Comrade Ping'an is here, sit down, sit down!" and poured a cup of hot water for him himself.

"Director Li, you called for me?" Li Ping'an sat down, neither servile nor arrogant.

"Nothing major," Li Huaide said with a smile, his fingers lightly tapping the desk, "just checking on the recent security work at our mill. Last time you achieved a great feat, eliminating hidden dangers; everyone saw it, and Factory Director Yang praised you at the office meeting."

Li Ping'an replied modestly, "It's all within our duties, thanks to the comrades' hard work."

"Hey, you can't put it that way," Li Huaide waved his hand, "being able to step up at critical moments is both ability and a sign of enlightenment."

He shifted tone, speaking more candidly, "Ping'an, you know the current state of our mill. Director Yang pushes production hard, with great pressure and strict demands—that's right. But sometimes you can't be too… unfeeling. The workers can't even fill their stomachs; how can they swing heavy hammers or watch the lathes? Slogans alone won't solve real problems."

Leaning slightly forward, he lowered his voice: "I've been running around outside, looking for ways, and finally secured a batch of cornmeal and some labor‑protection supplies. Not much, but enough for emergencies. How to allocate these, how to maximize workers' motivation without sparking conflict—that's the art of it. Your Security Department must both uphold plant rules and understand the workers' real hardships; the work must balance tension and relaxation. Would you agree?"

Li Ping'an listened, his mind as clear as a polished mirror. Li Huaide was both currying favor and hinting that siding with him could secure tangible benefits for subordinates beyond the rules, further showcasing Li Ping'an's ability to "understand the ground realities."

It was a more "flexible" path beyond Factory Director Yang's iron‑faced, selfless style.

"Director Li, you've thought this through," Li Ping'an chose his words, "the mill's difficulties are real, and the workers' morale needs soothing. Our Security Department will fully cooperate with the plant's arrangements, ensuring production order while also paying attention to methods."

He didn't explicitly pick a side, nor did he undermine Li Huaide's face. In his position, maintaining a degree of independence and flexibility can sometimes be more advantageous than fully siding with one party.

Li Huaide was not surprised by Li Ping'an's non‑committal stance; instead he thought the young man could hold his temper. He smiled, pulled a kraft paper bundle from the drawer, and pushed it forward: "Oh, right, for this supply run the other side also sent a bit of Dongbei red sausage. Not much; you can take it home for the kids to try, a little token from Uncle Li."

Li Ping'an stared at the oil‑slicked paper bundle, his brows briefly furrowing. This wasn't an ordinary "token"; in these times, meat was extremely precious. Accepting it would imply a certain binding; refusing would be a direct affront to Li Huaide.

After a moment's weighing, Li Ping'an's face showed a fitting mix of embarrassment and gratitude: "Director Li, this… this is too valuable! I can't take it; there are many needy families in the mill, and frontline heavy‑labor workers especially need nutritional supplements."

"Hey, just take it!" Li Huaide feigned displeasure, "this is a personal favor, not work‑related. You, Li Chief, risk your life for the plant's safety—what's wrong with the kid eating a red sausage? Take it! Otherwise I'll be angry!"

At that point, further refusal would seem pretentious and ungrateful. Li Ping'an knew this was Li Huaide's further test of courting, another move to pull him onto his side. He paused, then sincerely took it, saying, "Then… I'll thank Uncle Li on the child's behalf."

That "Uncle Li" made Li Huaide grin, patting Li Ping'an's shoulder: "That's right! Keep up the good work, Ping'an, you're young and promising, with limitless prospects!"

Leaving Li Huaide's office, Li Ping'an carried the heavy bundle of red sausage, feeling little joy. The item was like a hot‑potato; handling it required finesse. Hand it over directly? That would seem unfeeling and offend Li Huaide. Keep it for himself? That would betray his principles and leave ammunition.

He thought it over and decided to bring it back to the Security Department, slice it into ultra‑thin pieces so that the night‑shift cadres could each have a taste tonight, and tomorrow find a pretext to give the remainder to the few veteran workers whose families truly couldn't afford a pot of food and who have elderly and children. This would preserve Li Huaide's "face," prevent him from monopolizing the item, and earn goodwill among the rank‑and‑file.

Just as he reached the Security Department's stairwell, he ran into Factory Director Yang Weiguo. Yang's face was snarling; he glanced at the partially concealed kraft paper bundle in Li Ping'an's hand and snorted, "From Li Huaide?"

Li Ping'an felt a chill but answered calmly, "Yes, Director Li gave me some red sausage, saying it's for the child to try."

Yang Weiguo's sharp gaze fixed on him, his tone rigid: "Li Ping'an, you're the Head of the Security Department, you hold the knife's hilt! Always remember your position! Don't let sugary shells cloud your eyes!"

"Director, I understand," Li Ping'an straightened his back, "I'll handle the matter, ensuring it doesn't affect work or breach principles."

Yang Weiguo stared at him for a few seconds, as if searching his face, then gave his shoulder a firm pat, the force sizable: "Good, as long as you understand! Remember, the Steel Rolling Mill is a ship that must stay on the straight course! Deviant paths won't get far!" He then strode away briskly.

Li Ping'an watched Yang's towering silhouette, then weighed the red sausage in his hand, sighing with a helpless smile. The Steel Rolling Mill, like that bundle of red sausage, looks oily and tempting on the surface, but inside is tangled with countless invisible threads that can set the whole body in motion with a single hair's pull.

He stood at the vortex's center, each step like treading thin ice, needing to protect himself while safeguarding what must be protected.

The balance here demands more wisdom and steadiness than catching spies or engaging in Hand‑to‑hand Combat.

His "sweet spot" was unlikely to stay tranquil any longer. Yet Li Ping'an was no pliable soft‑persimmon for anyone to manipulate. This game had only just begun.