Chapter 316: Storms at the Steel Rolling Mill

The warm afterglow of the weekend family dinner in Xi Kua Yuan had not yet faded when the undercurrents stirred by clashes of power and ideas in the Steel Rolling Mill surged to the surface, no longer whispered in private but turning into the clashing of swords and knives between tea cups in the conference room.

On Monday, as soon as work began, the plant office issued a notice calling for an expanded meeting of all cadres above middle management, with the agenda "Research and discuss strengthening workers' ideological education and promoting production innovation in the new era." The wording was precise, matching the usual official line, yet those sensitive to it sensed an unusual flavor.

The meeting was chaired by Li Huaide, Deputy Factory Director. He sat at the center of the podium, a red‑inscribed enamel tea jar before him, his face bearing a deliberately crafted expression that was both solemn and compelling. Factory Director Yang Weiguo sat beside him, his demeanor calm, occasionally lifting his tea cup for a sip, his steady gaze sweeping the audience.

Li Ping'an sat near the front; the Security Section is an important functional department, and he had just become a celebrated "red man" for a major achievement, so his seat was naturally prominent. He appeared to listen attentively, but his mind was restrained, like a hidden reef beneath a calm lake.

Li Huaide's speech began by focusing on raising workers' awareness and learning advanced techniques, but soon the tone subtly shifted.

"…Comrades! We cannot be satisfied with current achievements, nor can we remain complacent! The times are advancing, and thought must be liberated!" Li Huaide raised his voice, gesturing with his arms. "In our plant, are there any old‑fashioned, lagging mindsets? Are there any seemingly reasonable rules that actually hinder production enthusiasm? I think there are!"

He did not name anyone, yet his gaze flickered—almost imperceptibly—over Yang Weiguo and several senior section chiefs responsible for production and technology. A low murmur rose from the audience.

"Take the recent purchase of cattle and sheep to improve meals as an example; it was a good thing, showing the organization's care." Li Huaide shifted his tone, bringing up the matter, and looked at Li Ping'an with an approving smile. "Comrade Ping'an overcame difficulties and secured benefits for all workers; that deserves recognition! What does this show? It shows that as long as we dare to break conventions and be flexible, we can get things done, and do them well!"

He skillfully elevated a routine material purchase to the level of "breaking conventions," the purpose obvious—to rally support for the "new measures" he intended to implement, while also implying that the production management model led by Factory Director Yang, which emphasizes procedures and planning, is "old‑fashioned."

Li Ping'an felt eyes from all sides; his expression remained unchanged, and he gave a slight nod, acknowledging Li Huaide's "praise" without speaking further. In his mind, crystal clear, he realized he had become a spear—or rather a footnote—that Li Huaide used to attack Factory Director Yang. This displeased him, but it was not the moment to take a stance.

Yang Weiguo finally spoke, his voice low but carrying undeniable weight: "Comrade Huaide's words have merit. Thought must advance, technology must innovate; that has always been our policy. Yet any innovation must be built on respecting scientific laws and ensuring safe, orderly production. Detached from reality, blind pursuit of novelty may backfire."

He paused, looked at the audience, his gaze lingering especially on a few technical backbones: "Our Steel Rolling Mill is a heavy‑industry unit; even a loose screw can cause a disaster. Stability and reliability are the lifeline of our production. Ideological education must be emphasized, but it must never disrupt the normal production order."

The two plant leaders' speeches seemed to both stress "progress" and "stability," yet their positions were starkly opposed, each a counter‑point. The atmosphere in the hall instantly grew heavy; everyone held their breath, fearing they might miss a single word.

Li Huaide's smile remained, but his eyes grew colder as he picked up a document: "Factory Director Yang is right; we must respect the rules. I have here a preliminary proposal for establishing a 'Production Technology Innovation Research Group.' Everyone can discuss it. This group aims to gather young comrades with ideas and drive, without restriction, to offer suggestions for the plant's development…"

The meeting finally ended after Li Huaide read the radical‑worded "proposal"; no resolution was passed, but everyone knew the struggle had been laid out openly.

After the session adjourned, Li Ping'an followed the crowd out of the conference room, feeling a web of gazes behind him—curious, courting, scrutinizing. He did not linger, heading straight back to the Security Department.

Sitting in his office, he stared at the gray‑hazy sky outside. 1963… he repeated the year in his mind. It was still too early. The real storm was still brewing far in the future; what he saw now was only the turbid stream that rises in a mountain gorge before the mountain rain arrives. Yet even that stream was enough to stir a pond of spring water, alerting his heart.

He knew he had to be even more cautious. Li Huaide's courting would become more blatant, and Yang Weiguo might also seek his clearer support. The Security Section, like a reef in a rapid, must remain steadfast.

In the following days, the plant's atmosphere changed noticeably. The faction led by Li Huaide became more active, and discussions of "liberating thought" and "breaking shackles" began to circulate among some young workers.

Meanwhile, Yang Weiguo tightened production scheduling and quality inspections, solidifying the foundation with concrete output and pass rates.

Li Ping'an strictly followed regulations, strengthening plant patrols and access control, keeping a distance from both sides' "moves," ensuring only internal order remained intact. He knew that before the real torrent arrived, preserving strength and maintaining stability were paramount.

That evening, returning to the Siheyuan after work, dusk had already settled. In the Central Courtyard, the Jia family's Bang Geng's wailing and Jia Zhangshi's curses echoed, as if lamenting a desire for meat they could not have; in the Front Courtyard, the Yan Bu Gui family remained quiet, yet within that silence lingered a trace of resentful scheming; the Liu family in the rear courtyard made no sound.

He pushed open the door of Xi Kua Yuan, and warm light and the aroma of food greeted him. Lin Xueqing was tutoring her son in writing, while Xiao Nuanqing gnawed her little fist in the cradle. Seeing him return, Lin Xueqing looked up with a gentle smile: "Back already? The rice is warming in the pot."

In that moment, the outside turmoil and undercurrents seemed completely cut off by the thin wooden door.

Li Ping'an washed his hands, sat at the table, watching his son write diligently and his daughter babble, feeling a calm within. He picked up a piece of vegetable and said to Lin Xueqing: "There was a meeting at the plant today; what 'innovation group' proposal did Li Huaide put forward?"

Lin Xueqing looked up; as an intellectual, she was naturally sensitive to politics: "It sounds… a bit radical. What do you think?"

"Not much," Li Ping'an replied calmly, "Do our part well, guard our small plot. When the wind rises, we'll see which grass falls first."

Lin Xueqing nodded thoughtfully, saying no more. She trusted her husband's judgment and ability.

After the meal, Li Ping'an cradled his daughter, stood by the window, watching the narrow night sky above the Siheyuan, sliced by the eaves. Wisps of cloud drifted slowly, the moonlight hazy.