Chapter 31: then translation of chapter title

Zhao Jianguo stuffed the notebook into the toolbox's interlayer, fastened the buckle, picked it up and headed out. The sky was just lightening, the hutong still smelled of breakfast porridge, he didn't look back, his steps didn't stop. The two words "be on guard" he'd written yesterday still turned in his mind, but today was different—he had to go to the factory to report.

The cement ground in front of the Red Star Steel Rolling Factory's gate was bleached white by the sun; a few old workers squatted at the wall base smoking, and when they saw him carrying the toolbox over, their gazes flickered. Zhao Jianguo pretended not to notice and headed straight for the Technical Section. He knew there were surely Yi Zhonghai's ears among them; maybe last night they'd already gossiped, saying he was "bookish and clumsy" and "no good at work."

The Technical Section was on the second floor of the office building, its door sign crooked halfway, and an oily duty roster was slipped in the door gap. Zhao Jianguo knocked twice, heard someone inside say "Come in," pushed the door open and saw a middle-aged man in blue work clothes bent over a drawing, his scalp so thin you could count the few hairs left.

"Section Chief Zhang?" Zhao Jianguo handed over the introduction letter.

The man lifted his head, took the letter and glanced at it, then sized him up for a few seconds before drawling: "Zhao Jianguo? I heard you were top three in your class."

"Just luck, the exam went smoothly." Zhao Jianguo smiled, didn't sit in the chair, and stood at the edge of the desk.

Zhang Guoyang didn't respond to that, instead flipping over the resume on the back of the letter; when he saw the entry "Independently compiled notes on the Industrial Machine Tool Operation Manual," his finger paused. "Did you copy the manual?"

"I didn't copy it all, I picked out the useful parts—like common faults in the hydraulic system and drive‑shaft alignment." Zhao Jianguo pulled a stack of paper from his bag, "I happened to organize some troubleshooting ideas; if you don't mind, take a look."

Zhang Guoyang took it, flipping page by page; his brow went from relaxed to tight and then slowly eased. The handwriting was neat, the diagrams clear, and it even marked the judgment logic chains for different faults—completely unlike those perfunctory reports circulating in the factory.

"Not bad." He set the paper down and finally nodded. "Have a seat. The Technical Section is short‑handed, especially for those willing to think. You'll intern for three months, follow Old Li around the workshop, and come to me with any questions."

Zhao Jianguo sat down, not rushing to thank him. He knew this was only the first step; to really plant his feet here, he'd still have to see how things went forward.

At lunchtime he deliberately arrived ten minutes late, waiting until the big crowd had mostly dispersed before heading to the canteen. Only Sha Zhu was left at the window scrubbing a pot; seeing him approach, his hand paused, he looked up and grinned: "Hey, isn't this Zhao Jianguo?"

"Master He, a Meal Ticket, please." Zhao Jianguo handed over his lunch box.

Sha Zhu took it, scooped a spoonful of stewed cabbage and glass noodles, was about to hand it back when his wrist twisted, he fished up two slices of fatty meat from the pot bottom and slapped them into the box. "Add some oil and water—you tech guys use your brains all day; you need meat to have strength."

Zhao Jianguo didn't decline, just smiled and nodded: "Thanks, I'll get you a smoke later."

"Don't give me that." Sha Zhu passed the lunch box back, lowering his voice: "The other day you helped the Jia family fix their roof? I saw it. These days, who bothers about whether someone else's roof leaks? Only you're willing to roll up your sleeves."

Zhao Jianguo didn't respond, just carried his lunch box away. But he knew deep down that spoonful of meat wasn't free; sometimes personal favors work better than skill.

Just after he entered the workshop in the afternoon, he heard someone muttering behind his back: "Rumor has it the new intern technician was specially arranged by Master Yi to go to the casting workshop? But the Personnel Section didn't approve it."

"Of course not—he's an honor student; when would it be his turn to speak?"

"But Master Yi said, 'This guy's all theory, no practice'—he needs to have his temperament smoothed out."

Zhao Jianguo pretended not to hear, followed Old Li around the factory grounds, noting some equipment numbers. As quitting time approached, Zhang Guoyang suddenly stepped out of the office and called him: "Little Zhao, the repair team reported a fault—the old press's hydraulic system failed, it's been down for three days; go take a look."

Old Li frowned at once: "This job's no picnic; the two previous masters couldn't find the fault."

Zhang Guoyang waved a hand: "Let him try. He's a newcomer—needs the practice."

Zhao Jianguo nodded in agreement, but inside he understood—this wasn't going to be simple.

The old press lurked in the farthest corner of the workshop, grimy like an old sick man, grease dripping from its base, a small pool of black hydraulic oil collecting on the floor. A few repairmen gathered around; seeing him approach, one sneered: "Hey, the Technical Section's come to fix a machine?"

Zhao Jianguo ignored him, crouched down, first felt the oil with his hand, then leaned in to listen for a few seconds. Although the machine was shut off, the pump body still emitted a faint "gurgling" sound, like an air lock.

He stood up, brushed his hands together, and said: "The valve body is stuck, the seal ring has aged, and there's air in the oil line—a triple whammy."

An old master nearby snorted: "You make it sound easy—then go ahead and take it apart."

Zhao Jianguo didn't argue, opened his toolbox, and pulled out a high‑carbon steel file—the same "brother model" he'd lent to Jia Dongxu a few days earlier. He removed the hydraulic valve cover, and sure enough a steel ball was rusted fast, jammed in the slide. He lightly filed it with the file; the ball popped out with a "click," then he took a new seal ring from his carry‑on pouch and installed it.

"Where'd you get that ring?" someone asked.

"A spare." Zhao Jianguo didn't elaborate. This ring came from the system sign‑in reward, it's high‑temperature and corrosion‑resistant, more than twice as strong as the factory‑issued ones.

He reinstalled the valve body, switched on the power, and the machine gave a hum; the pressure gauge needle steadied into the normal range.

"All good?" Old Li stared.

"All good." Zhao Jianguo shut off the power, "Run it another ten minutes to bleed out the air and you'll be set."

No sooner had he spoken than Zhang Guoyang rushed over on hearing the news, glanced at the gauge, then at Zhao Jianguo's toolbox in his hand, and patted his shoulder: "Not bad, Little Zhao—fixed in ten minutes? The other day someone spent eight hours on it and got nowhere."

Zhao Jianguo chuckled: "Just a minor fault; leave it too long and it gets complicated."

At that moment Yi Zhonghai also came running after hearing the news. He stood at the back of the crowd, his complexion not looking good. He had originally intended to use this "old tough nut" machine to give Zhao Jianguo a humbling experience—make him fail, lose face, be laughed at by the workers—but instead it turned out well: the guy fixed it in ten minutes, and did so transparently.

"Little Zhao," he forced a smile, "it's good that young people have drive, but this machine's been around a while—you can't rely solely on book knowledge; you need to listen more to the old hands."

Zhao Jianguo turned to look at him, nodded: "Master Yi's right, so I first asked Old Li, listened to the abnormal noise three times, then got to work."

These words sounded polite, but in fact they left him speechless. Weren't you saying I'm book‑smart but clumsy? I consulted before acting, observed, pinpointed the fault, and fixed it neatly—what else could you find fault with?

After hearing that, Zhang Guoyang drew a firm conclusion: "From now on this press is Zhao Jianguo's responsibility; anyone with a problem goes to him first. The Technical Section needs someone to step up, can't keep leaning on the old masters."

The crowd dispersed, but Yi Zhonghai stayed rooted where he was, unmoving. He watched Zhao Jianguo pack up his toolbox, his fingers clenched in his pant pocket until they turned white.

Zhao Jianguo didn't look at him, hoisted his toolbox and walked out. Passing Sha Zhu's window, Sha Zhu was packing up; seeing him come over, he fished out a steamed bun from his pocket and shoved it into Zhao Jianguo's hand: "Fixing machines drains your energy—here, have something to tide you over."

He took it, nodded, and walked off.

On the way back to the dormitory he pulled out his notebook, wrote on the newest page: "Old press fixed, Yi Zhonghai's scheme failed. Zhang Guoyang's attitude warmed, the Technical Section has gained its first foothold." After writing, he flipped to the previous page, saw yesterday's note "be on guard," drew a line through it, and changed it to: "Be on guard, but when it's time to act, act."

The next morning, just as he entered the workshop, someone shouted: "Little Zhao! No. 3 rolling mill's drive shaft is shaking a bit—come take a look!"

He answered, grabbed his toolbox and headed out.

He had just made it halfway when he ran into Yi Zhonghai face‑to‑face. They exchanged a glance, Yi Zhonghai stared at him for two seconds, then suddenly said: "Young man, don't think fixing an old machine makes you something special."

Zhao Jianguo stopped, smiled, and said: "I don't think it's a big deal, but I also haven't delayed anything."

Yi Zhonghai's lips twitched, he said nothing more, and stepped aside to let him pass.

Zhao Jianguo walked past him, heard a faint snort from behind, didn't turn back, and didn't slow his steps.

Arriving at the No. 3 rolling mill, he crouched to inspect, found the coupling bolt loose. He pulled out a wrench, was about to tighten it, then heard someone nearby mutter: "This job used to be done by Master Yi and his crew……"

His hand paused, he didn't look up, and only said: "Now it's my responsibility."

The wrench gave a click, the bolt tightened. The machine started up and ran smoothly.

He rose, clapped his hands, and saw Yi Zhonghai still standing not far off, gazing in this direction from a distance.

Zhao Jianguo didn't avoid his gaze; instead he stepped forward, raised the wrench in his hand, and said: "Master Yi, next time there's work, just call me directly—no need to wait until the machine breaks to report it."