Siheyuan: I just came across and wanted to chase me away

Chapter 1145 Yi Zhonghai begins to reveal the situation

The afternoon sun slanted through the steel rolling mill corridor, casting long stripes of light on the ground. Yi Zhonghai walked with remarkable steady steps, each step landing precisely on the edge of the light spots, as if to evade the gazes lurking in the shadows. He slowly and meticulously straightened his cuffs, smoothing out the wrinkles caused by machine tool oil—this Zhongshan suit was issued three years ago for the factory's anniversary celebration, and although the cuffs were now worn smooth, he still maintained them with utmost care.

He only had two years left before retirement. Thinking this to himself, he quickened his pace towards the office building. The day he was demoted from an eighth-grade fitter to a fourth-grade, he had spent the entire afternoon squatting in a corner of the workshop, listening to his apprentices' deliberately hushed whispers—a feeling more bitter than swallowing gall. This new factory director's appointment was his last chance—whether his retirement pension would increase by 30%, and whether he could choose a house with a small yard when allocating housing, all depended on whether he could persuade Director Zhu this time.

As for when he ran into Qin Huairu on the road, and she begged him with red eyes to put in a good word for Jia Dongxu so he could be transferred to an easier position, it was just a pretext he came up with on the spur of the moment. It would be good if he could casually mention it, showing he still cared about their old neighborly relationship; if he couldn't, it wouldn't matter, he couldn't be bothered with the mess the Jia family was in—Qin Huairu was asking him for a transfer today, and tomorrow she might be asking him for money; getting involved would just be an inescapable burden.

When he was three steps away from the factory director's office, Yi Zhonghai stopped. He deliberately cleared his throat, his voice neither too loud nor too soft, just loud enough for the people inside to hear; then he raised his hand to smooth his sideburns, pressing down a few unruly silver strands to reveal his smooth forehead—this was his proudest look when he was young, and back then when he was training apprentices, he had intimidated many greenhorns with this spirit.

He had already memorized his lines perfectly. He would start by talking about the factory's first imported machine tool in 1953, recounting how he and his apprentices worked in three shifts, painstakingly studying the foreign language blueprints. Then, he would change the subject, praising Director Zhu for being young and capable, turning over the stockpiled scrap materials in the warehouse right away, showing more courage than his predecessors. Finally, he would roll up his sleeves, revealing the crescent-shaped scar on his elbow—a mark from when he was repairing a machine tool in 1960, bitten by gears, which still aches on rainy days, a perfect reminder of his lifelong dedication to the factory.

"Knock, knock, knock." Three taps were made on the door panel with knuckles, the rhythm unhurried and steady, carrying the unique composure of an old worker.

"Please come in." A young yet authoritative voice came from inside.

Yi Zhonghai pushed open the door, his smile perfectly measured—three parts humility, three parts sincerity, and four parts the composure of a seasoned veteran. Zhu Tao, sitting behind his desk, looked up. In his early forties, his Zhongshan suit was impeccably pressed, cuffs buttoned tightly, and the sharpness between his brows made him seem like a retired military officer.

“It’s impossible for Gu Nan to be pushed to the position of deputy factory director without someone backing him up.” Yi Zhonghai thought to himself, but spoke warmly: “Factory director, I am Yi Zhonghai. I used to be an eighth-level fitter in the factory. Later, I got older and my eyesight and hand strength couldn’t keep up. Now I’m just a fourth-level fitter.”

This was half true and half false. His title of Level 8 fitter was real; it was his strongest asset. But the excuse of "not having the eye and hand strength to keep up" was just that—what truly led to his demotion was a major mistake three years ago when he mislabeled the spindle dimensions, causing an entire batch of parts to be scrapped. He would never mention such an embarrassing incident in front of outsiders.

Zhu Tao put down the report in his hand and tapped his fingertips lightly on the table. He had already looked through Yi Zhonghai's information in the personnel file and knew that this man and Gu Nan had always been at odds. When Gu Nan first entered the workshop, Yi Zhonghai was his mentor. Later, Gu Nan climbed up the ranks with his skills and became Yi Zhonghai's boss. The two had been competing openly and secretly for many years.

"Master Yi, please have a seat." Zhu Tao gestured to the chair opposite him, his tone gentle. "I've just taken up my post and don't know much about the situation yet. You're a veteran in the factory, so you should tell me more. If there's anything that Gu Nan did wrong or deliberately made things difficult for you, I'll definitely give you justice and a chance to prove yourself again."

That last sentence was like a pebble thrown into Yi Zhonghai's heart, creating ripples. He picked up the enamel mug on the table and took a sip of hot water, but his fingertips trembled uncontrollably—back to the position of an eighth-grade fitter? How he longed for it! But the reality was that in last month's workshop assessment, he hadn't even met the most basic thread precision standard. His apprentice watched from the side, his disappointment impossible to hide.

What worries him even more is his memory. A while ago, after receiving his salary, he tucked it into his pocket and wandered around for ages, only to find it nowhere in his drawers when he got home. He finally discovered it was under his pillow. Sometimes, when he bumps into familiar coworkers in the workshop, he opens his mouth to speak, but can't remember their names at all, and can only awkwardly smile and nod. This feeling of powerlessness is even more frustrating than when he was demoted years ago.

"I appreciate the factory manager's kindness..." Yi Zhonghai put down his cup, a bitter look on his face, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes gathered together like a withered chrysanthemum, "But I'm afraid my body can no longer bear heavy responsibilities. I went to the hospital for a check-up the other day, and the doctor said that I have overuse injuries in my arm and can no longer do heavy work."

Even so, his gaze never left Zhu Tao's face, like a bird waiting to be fed, hoping that the other party could offer another way out—even if it was just a promise of an extra half-percent pension after retirement, or priority in choosing a floor when allocating housing, he could go with the flow, both to save face and to gain some practical benefits.

A moment of silence fell over the office, broken only by the intermittent chirping of cicadas drifting in from outside the window. Zhu Tao glanced at the barely concealed hope in Yi Zhonghai's eyes, a meaningful smile playing on his lips—this old fox was far more cunning than He Yuzhu. But that was fine; the more someone valued these things, the easier it was for them to become a pawn in his hands.

Yi Zhonghai knew exactly what was going on. Although he didn't explicitly say that "his words no longer carried any weight in the factory," that sentiment was ingrained in his very being. To use Director Zhu's influence to put pressure on Gu Nan, he first needed to lower his stance. He looked at Zhu Tao, his tone carrying just the right amount of earnestness: "Director Zhu, you're right, that's indeed the case. Gu Nan's methods may seem to make production look impressive on the surface, but the workers have long harbored resentment, only no one dares to speak out."

Zhu Tao smiled upon hearing this, a subtle calculation flashing in the fine lines at the corners of his eyes—it seemed that Yi Zhonghai was a shrewd man, knowing how to go along with things, and could be put to good use. He raised his hand and pointed to the wooden chair opposite him: "Master Yi, please sit down. It's tiring to talk standing up, let's chat slowly."