Chapter 610 Anxious Director Ding
Zhou Yimin has been in Zhoujiazhuang for some time. Seeing that the time to the Chinese New Year is getting shorter, Director Ding of the steel plant is getting a little restless.
This was not the first time that Director Hu came to ask Zhou Yimin when the chickens he promised to bring back could be brought back.
As long as the situation cannot be resolved, the leaders of the steel plant will remain worried.
Director Ding really had no choice today and could only call Zhou Dazhong over.
When Zhou Dazhong learned that Director Ding was looking for him, he immediately put down his work and walked quickly to Director Ding's office.
On the way there, he was thinking that Director Ding would not normally look for him.
I can’t figure it out, so I might as well go and ask Director Ding honestly!
In less than ten minutes, Zhou Dazhong arrived at Director Ding's office.
Knocked on the door.
"Come in!"
After waiting for permission, Zhou Dazhong pushed open the door of the office, walked in, and closed the door.
He walked to Director Ding's desk and asked quietly, "Director Ding, what do you want to talk to me about?"
Director Ding then raised his head and looked at Zhou Dazhong: "No hurry, sit down first!"
After getting permission, Zhou Dazhong sat down and waited quietly for Director Ding's instructions.
Director Ding asked casually, "Dazhong, do you know what Yimin has been busy with during this period?"
Of course Zhou Dazhong knew what Zhou Yimin was busy with. To be precise, he was resting in Zhoujiazhuang, unlike himself who had to keep an eye on him all the time.
"Well, I'm not sure, what is Section Chief Zhou busy with?"
Director Ding did not ask any more questions, but changed the subject: "Dazhong, can you contact Yimin?"
Zhou Dazhong did not hide it: "Of course, Director Ding!"
Director Ding continued, "Then could you please ask, Yimin, when will the chickens mentioned in the last meeting be shipped back?"
Only then did Zhou Dazhong understand why Director Ding asked him to come over this time.
"Okay, Director Ding, I'll go ask Section Chief Zhou when the chicken will be shipped back."
Director Ding was quite satisfied with this answer: "Okay, then go ahead!"
Only then did Zhou Dazhong leave Director Ding's office.
Zhou Dazhong's cotton shoes made a rustling sound on the cement floor of the corridor.
He pushed open the door of Zhou Yimin's office. The old fluorescent light made a crackling sound, illuminating the dark green dial phone on the desk.
He held the piece of paper with the phone number written on it between his fingers, and his frozen fingertips slipped on the keys. It was not until the third time that he successfully dialed the switchboard in Zhoujiazhuang.
There was a busy tone from the other end of the phone, mixed with the dull roar of a blast furnace in the distance.
Zhou Dazhong unbuttoned the collar of his cotton-padded jacket, but beads of sweat trickled down his back - it seemed as if the force with which Director Ding had patted his shoulder in the afternoon was still there.
"Be sure to ask about the chicken transportation." The reminder weighed on my heart like a stone.
When the "Hello" voice finally came from the receiver, he almost threw the phone on the table.
Zhou Dazhong recognized the voice as that of the old branch secretary: "Old branch secretary, could you please find Uncle Sixteen to come over and answer the phone?"
The old branch secretary also heard that it was Zhou Dazhong on the other end of the line: "Dazhong, OK."
"I'll go notify Yimin now and ask him to come over and call again."
After hearing this, Zhou Dazhong hung up the phone.
Twenty minutes later, Zhou Yimin rushed into the snow wrapped in a military coat.
His scarf hung loosely around his neck, and his cotton shoes trouser legs rustled as they stepped on the icy cobblestone road.
A dim light shone through the windows of the Zhoujiazhuang Village Committee office, and the telephone was glowing with warmth from the heating pipes.
When Zhou Yimin picked up the receiver again, the heat from his palm instantly condensed into white mist on the plastic shell: "Dazhong, I heard you have something to talk to me about?"
"Uncle Sixteen!" Zhou Dazhong's voice exploded from the receiver, with obvious anxiety.
"Director Ding asked me to ask, when can the chickens mentioned in the last meeting be shipped back? The factory cafeteria is in urgent need of them."
He spoke very quickly, and in the background there was the sound of mechanical movement, as if he was afraid of being interrupted.
Zhou Yimin looked at the snowflakes flying outside the window, his fingers unconsciously stroking the spiral pattern of the telephone line.
"Okay, then I'll go back to the steel mill tomorrow!"
His voice was steady and powerful: "Don't worry, Director Ding, the chicks are ready to be taken out of the cage and are waiting to be loaded onto the truck."
There was an obvious sound of a long sigh of relief coming from the other end of the phone.
Zhou Dazhong's tone suddenly became cheerful: "That's great, Uncle Sixteen! If I fail to complete the task, I'm really afraid of being in front of Director Ding."
Before he finished speaking, Zhou Yimin interrupted him: "Got it, leave the rest to me!"
When I hung up the phone, the crisp sound of the receiver buttons popping up was particularly clear in the quiet office.
When Zhou Yimin pushed open the gate of the yard, his cotton shoes knocked against the thick snow on the threshold.
The warm air from the main room, wrapped in the aroma of burnt coal stove, wafted towards me. Grandma Zhou Yimin and Grandpa were sitting on chairs, watching TV.
"You're back so late?" The old man raised his head from the eight-immortals table and saw that Zhou Yimin looked a little strange.
Zhou Yimin brushed off the snow on his shoulders. A thin layer of ice had already formed on the herbal tea in the enamel jar.
He told the whole story and said, "I have to go back to the factory tomorrow."
Zhou Yimin's grandmother didn't even bother to watch TV, she stood up immediately and said: "So urgent? The New Year is almost here."
The old man didn't say anything, he just added a piece of new coal into the briquette stove, and sparks exploded in the furnace.
Zhou Yimin had no choice: "There is no other way. If I don't go back, the workers in the factory won't even have any gifts for the New Year."
The old man and Zhou Yimin’s grandmother also knew that Zhou Yimin was young now and must focus on his career, so they didn’t say much.
But Zhou Yimin's grandmother stood up silently, then walked into the kitchen and prepared a rich meal for her grandson.
Zhou Yimin originally wanted to go in to help, but was pushed out by his grandmother.
Zhou Yimin had no choice but to watch TV with his old man in the living room.
The two didn't say anything, just watched TV quietly.
Soon, the eight-immortal table was gradually filled with dishes. The braised bacon was shiny and fragrant, the chopped green onions and eggs were golden and tempting, and there was a large bowl of steaming cabbage and tofu soup.
“It’s open.”
After hearing this, Zhou Yimin and the old man stood up and came to the dinner table.
Grandpa put the biggest piece of meat into Zhou Yimin's bowl, and only picked up the cabbage stalks himself: "Don't treat yourself badly in the factory."
Before he could finish his words, grandma put another egg into his bowl. The hot eggshell stuck to his palm and burned his eyes.
The snow is still falling outside the window, and the steaming heat in the house hides the two elders' unexpressed worries.
As soon as the sky turned pale, Zhou Yimin got on the old motorcycle.
The biting cold wind scraped across his cheeks like a knife. He tightened his scarf, put on thick cotton gloves, and started the engine.
The motorcycle roared, breaking the silence of the early morning, and carried him towards the steel plant.
The road was covered with a thin layer of ice and snow, which shone coldly in the morning light.
Zhou Yimin did not dare to be careless at all. He slowly turned the accelerator and moved the motorcycle forward cautiously.
The wheels rolled over the icy road, making a "crunching" sound, and every step seemed like a silent battle with the slippery road.
His eyes were fixed on the front, his hands were tightly gripping the handlebars, his nerves were as taut as a fully drawn bowstring, and he was ready to deal with any possible slipping at any time.
When passing the bend at the entrance of the village, the motorcycle suddenly shook slightly, and Zhou Yimin's heart suddenly rose to his throat.
He immediately released the accelerator, supported himself with his feet, leaned his body slightly, and slowly adjusted the balance of the vehicle body with his years of riding experience.
The cold wind blew into his collar, freezing him to the bone, but he ignored it completely. However, due to the extreme nervousness, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, which quickly condensed into ice beads in the cold wind.
Along the way, Zhou Yimin always maintained an extremely low speed. When encountering a section of road with thick snow, he would even get off and push the motorcycle forward step by step.
The trees on both sides of the road were covered with icicles and swaying in the wind, as if they were sighing for his difficult journey.
The familiar half-hour drive now seemed particularly long.
Finally, when the tall chimney of the steel plant appeared in sight, Zhou Yimin breathed a sigh of relief.
At this time, his fingers had already become numb from the cold, and his legs were sore from keeping them tense for a long time.
The moment the motorcycle drove into the factory gate, he looked at his watch and saw that it had taken nearly an hour.
After parking the car, he stretched his stiff body, looked at the busy scene in the factory, pulled himself together, and walked towards the office.
When Zhou Yimin returned to the office, the first thing he did was to call Zhou Dazhong over.
When Zhou Dazhong learned that Zhou Yimin was looking for him, he trotted all the way there, fearing that if he was late he would delay Zhou Yimin's business.
The incandescent light in the office was emitting a cold white light. Zhou Yimin was shaking off the remaining snow on his military coat, and the hot water in the kettle was bubbling.
As soon as he unscrewed the lid of the cup, he heard familiar footsteps coming from the corridor. Zhou Dazhong, wearing cotton shoes still covered with ice, brought a gust of cold wind when he pushed the door open.
"Uncle Sixteen!" There was surprise in Zhou Dazhong's voice, and there was engine oil on the cuffs of his work clothes.
"You're finally back!" He rubbed his red, frozen hands.
Zhou Yimin pointed to the iron chair opposite him and sat down behind the desk piled with reports: "Sit down and tell me, what happened in Corey during my absence?"
The porcelain jar was placed on the table, making a soft "dong" sound, and misty water vapor rose between the two people.
Zhou Yimin poured Zhou Dazhong a cup of hot water.
Zhou Dazhong didn't hesitate to take it and took a sip. He said, "Nothing big has happened recently, except that the factory leaders are anxious to get you to bring the chickens back."
Zhou Yimin felt relieved after hearing this.
Zhou Dazhong suddenly remembered something: "There is one more thing."
"Uncle Sixteen, do you still remember Lao Chen?"
Zhou Yimin also understood why Zhou Dazhong mentioned this person: "Remember, he is a buyer under you."
"It's him." Zhou Dazhong said excitedly.
"Because he hadn't met the target for two consecutive months, he insisted on going to Lijiagou, which was 30 miles away, saying that no other buyers had been there before, so he wanted to try his luck."
Zhou Dazhong's voice became increasingly quiet, as if the words he spoke carried a thousand pounds of weight: "I didn't buy anything, and then on the way back it was icy, my bike slipped and I fell into a ditch, my right tibia was fractured, and I'm lying in the hospital now."
Zhou Yimin stood up suddenly: "Why didn't you tell me such an important thing earlier? Is he okay now?"
Zhou Dazhong also felt a little aggrieved: "There's nothing wrong, I just need to rest for a while."
Zhou Yimin felt a little relieved when he heard this: "How about this! Let's find a time to visit him."
Zhou Dazhong didn't dare to refuse: "Okay, Uncle Sixteen."
Then the two chatted for a while, and after Zhou Yimin found that nothing else had happened, he let Zhou Dazhong go back to work.
He has some things to do himself.
Zhou Dazhong immediately left Zhou Yimin's office.
Zhou Yimin went to the transportation department alone. After all, it would be impossible to transport so many chickens back without the help of a truck.
Pushing open the mottled iron door of the Transportation Department, Zhou Yimin was hit by a hot wave mixed with the smell of diesel and engine oil.
The old-fashioned radiator made a gurgling sound in the corner, and a few tungsten filament lamps illuminated the room dimly.
He took off his cotton hat covered with ice and nodded to his colleagues who were sorting out driving logs at their desks. The snow water on his overalls was flowing down his trouser legs, leaving dark marks on the concrete floor.
Looking across the empty garage, Zhou Yimin's heart sank - the parking spaces that were usually full now only had two trucks left.
He stamped his numb feet, turned around and walked quickly towards the dispatch room.
As soon as the door was opened, Li Feng was seen holding a cigarette in his mouth, frowning at the transportation route map on the wall, and cigarette ashes fell on the spread-out shift schedule.
"Captain Li, long time no see!" Zhou Yimin's voice was filled with panting after a jog.
Li Feng looked up when he heard the voice, a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes, and then he returned to his seriousness: "Chief Zhou, how come you have time to come here?"
He reached out and flicked the ash off his cigarette, the red light of the cigarette butt flickering in the shadows.
Zhou Yimin walked forward quickly, the hem of his work coat sweeping across the iron cabinets piled with spare parts. "Captain Li, I wonder if you can arrange two trucks to go with me to bring the chickens back? The leaders are pushing us a little too hard."
Before he finished speaking, he saw Li Feng's hand holding the cigarette paused and his brows furrowed even deeper.
"Chief Zhou, this is really unfortunate."
Li Feng put out his cigarette, and the metal ashtray made a crisp sound. "I am the only truck driver left in Corey now. The others are doing long-distance transport and haven't come back yet."
He pointed to the densely packed driving records on the wall, with different destinations marked behind each name: "The iron mine, coal mine, and building materials factory are too busy lately."
Zhou Yimin looked at the howling snow outside the window and suddenly realized that the year-end was approaching and all the workshops were rushing to work. The transportation pressure could be imagined.
He rubbed his frozen palms and looked at Li Feng again: "How about this, Captain Li and I go and get the chicken back?"
These words made the air freeze briefly. After a moment, Li Feng finally raised a smile and patted him on the shoulder: "Okay! This is related to the welfare of the workers. We must bring these chickens back no matter what!"
(End of this chapter)
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