crack
The passage of time often has a contradictory attribute: it can blur those unforgettable pains, but it can also make some details that were once ignored become clearer.
The catalyst improvement project and the construction of the new synthetic ammonia production line proceeded surprisingly smoothly, under an almost obsessive and strict approach. Aside from a minor incident early on—a representative of a manufacturer who had been removed from the supplier list slammed the table and shouted in the purchasing department, causing a minor commotion—everything ran smoothly under Wu Jiaming's iron-fisted control. It was as if he had channeled all the pent-up anger and fear from the catalyst leak into a passionate pursuit of "absolute standards."
The annual report was dazzling: annual production targets were exceeded, and profits reached a record high. The newly built synthetic ammonia production line miraculously achieved the myth of "becoming profitable the same year it went into production," becoming a highlight in the company's internal publications and external publicity.
During these busy and fulfilling two years, Lin Xiaoning has undergone a profound transformation. The hardships of the workplace have shed any trace of her immaturity, bolstering her temperament with a calm and capable demeanor. She is no longer the easily framed, bewildered newcomer. With Wu Jiaming's dedicated training and deep trust, she has become capable of handling complex technical coordination and management challenges independently, her gaze now brimming with calmness and insight.
However, beneath this seemingly smooth surface, the undercurrent has never truly stopped.
After working late one night, Lin Xiaoning delivered a document requiring urgent signature to Wu Jiaming's office. The large office building was nearly empty, with only his office light still on. The door was ajar. Just as she was about to knock, she saw Wu Jiaming standing alone by the window, gazing out at the brightly lit factory in the distance. His back betrayed an indescribable sense of exhaustion and desolation.
He seemed to sense movement and slowly turned around, a trace of complex emotions still lingering in his eyes. Seeing that it was Lin Xiaoning, he sighed slightly and motioned for her to come in.
"Xiao Ning, haven't you left yet?" His voice was a little hoarse.
"Mr. Wu, this document is urgent and requires your review." Lin Xiaoning handed it over, his eyes casually glancing at the photo he had placed on the corner of his desk. It was a group photo from decades ago, showing a group of high-spirited young people in old-fashioned work clothes surrounding a vigorous old man. Wu Jiaming in the photo looked young and energetic, his eyes bright.
Wu Jiaming followed her gaze and glanced at the photo. He was silent for a moment. Rarely did he immediately deal with the documents, but pointed to the chair next to him and said, "Sit down."
He stroked the photo, as if lost in distant memories, his voice low and slow, "That was my old factory director, my father-in-law... and my mentor. Without him, I wouldn't be where I am today, and possibly... this factory wouldn't be where it is today."
On that quiet night, Lin Xiaoning heard a story about loyalty, responsibility, and the heavy yoke of responsibility. Wu Jiaming recounted how the old factory director had offered his all when he was penniless and his parents were seriously ill, how he had shared all his knowledge with him, how he had entrusted his daughter to him in his most difficult time, and how, in the midst of restructuring, he had taken Wu Jiaming's hand and solemnly entrusted him with the factory, the product of the hard work of countless old brothers and on the verge of bankruptcy.
"I haven't forgotten a single word of what the old man said." Wu Jiaming's gaze seemed to penetrate time. "He said, 'Jiaming, technology is the foundation, production is the basis, but this factory survives not for a few cold, hard numbers, but for the hundreds of people who depend on us for their livelihoods! I'm handing them over to you. You have to lead them all to survive and live like a human being!'"
For years, he'd done just that. He'd practically abandoned all management duties and immersed himself in the workshop, obsessed with improving processes, increasing efficiency, and strictly controlling quality. He believed that grasping the fundamentals of "production" would ensure he lived up to his trust. Like a loyal ox, he focused on pulling the cart, unconcerned with politics, believing that as long as output was stable and profits grew, he could protect his business.
However, the catalyst leakage incident was like a basin of cold water that completely woke him up.
"I've been thinking a lot lately," his voice filled with confusion and pain. "For all these years, I've worked so hard to maintain production and increase everyone's income year after year. But in the end, what happened? A corrupt pipeline can easily destroy all our efforts and even nearly cost everyone their lives! What are those of us who actually sweat on the assembly line in the eyes of those who manipulate power and rules? Are we just numbers that can be sacrificed at any time for the so-called 'big picture' or 'cost'?"
He looked up, his eyes bloodshot, a look of bewilderment from a shattered faith. "I used to think that running production well was fulfilling my greatest responsibility. Now I realize I was wrong, and possibly terribly wrong. If we can't truly control our own destiny, if we can't have our say, we can avoid corroded pipelines today, but what about tomorrow? The day after tomorrow? And what will happen the next time? Am I truly living up to the trust placed in me by the old factory director? Am I living up to the trust placed in me by the brothers who trusted me?"
This late-night conversation, like a heavy key, unlocked the door for Lin Xiaoning to understand Wu Jiaming's recent "abnormal" behavior. He wasn't simply passively resisting or venting his discontent. Instead, he was engaging in a tragic and silent struggle using an extreme method—absolutely, even cruelly, "strictly enforcing" all rules and instructions. In this self-torturing manner, he was questioning the flaws in the system and his own former beliefs.
This in-depth discussion deeply shocked Lin Xiaoning. At the same time, when the company's huge bonus of 200,000 yuan awarded to her for her catalyst innovation plan was deposited into her account, she felt not joy, but a strong sense of unease and pain.
She began to suffer from insomnia. Late at night, the cold, cold figures and Wu Jiaming's pained eyes would always appear together. She had indeed discovered the safety hazard and proposed a solution, but behind this solution was the incident that nearly led to a catastrophe, the health damage that might have already occurred but went unaddressed. She felt as if she had traded the potential sacrifices of others for personal honor and reward. A hidden sense of guilt gnawed at her. Sometimes she even hated herself for the moment she saw the bonus, feeling a flicker of joy in her heart. "Money makes the world go round," her grandmother's words echoed in her mind like a mantra, making her realize that perhaps she, too, had been unknowingly "bought" and "tamed" by this vast system.
Ye Yidong's delicate and gentle companionship gradually filled her emotional world, which had been shattered by betrayal and hurt. At the edge of her dreams late at night, Teacher Zhao's weathered face, as always, looking into the distance, Bai Jinyu's blurry face with peach blossom eyes would overlap with Ye Yidong's gentle face, instantly waking her up, and a trace of indescribable loss, panic and guilt flashed through her heart.
Ye Yidong suggested they take a vacation together to relax, and Lin Xiaoning gladly accepted. They went to the beach, leaving two long trails of footprints on the sand, watching the sunset paint the sea a golden red; they went to the mountains, hugged each other tightly before the sea of clouds at dawn, feeling each other's body temperature and heartbeat.
The last stop of the trip was the remote mountain primary school that Lin Xiaoning had funded with the royalties from publishing Zhao Xianqi's "Criminal Law Teaching Plan".
The journey was bumpy and arduous beyond their imagination. However, when they actually set foot on that land, the scene they saw was much more complex and far beyond their simple imagination.
They saw sincerity and hope amidst poverty: children clutching brand new books, their eyes shining like stars, their clear voices reading aloud echoing through the valley, carrying a strength that transcends hardship. The veteran teacher, whose face was etched with the frost of years, smiled with immense satisfaction and pride as he showed off the children's awards.
But they also saw another side: the brand new stationery they brought turned up at the school gate store the next day; freshly picked mountain produce was sprayed with pesticides to prevent spoilage before being shipped to the city, and the produce they would eat was stored separately; they even overheard villagers discussing which family had managed to obtain a "poverty certificate" and receive subsidies...
On the way back in the car, both of them were silent for a long time, each trying to digest the shock in their hearts.
In the end, it was Ye Yidong who spoke first, his tone heavy but with understanding: "Don't take it too seriously. Poverty is like this, it is like a saline land, not all seeds can bloom pure flowers here. Sometimes, a little bit of commercialism and calculation may be the only way they can think of to survive. The environment is too harsh, and we can't demand that everyone remain noble, that is too extravagant. Aren't there the same greedy termites around us? In fact, human nature is the same." His words carried the analysis and tolerance that lawyers often have when looking at the world, trying to get to the bottom of cause and effect.
However, Lin Xiaoning looked out the window at the still barren mountains speeding by and slowly shook her head. Her profile appeared somewhat stubborn in the shifting light and shadow.
"No, Yidong, I don't completely agree." Her voice was soft but remarkably clear. "Poverty is a terrible predicament, but it's not a universal excuse for flaws in character. Just like the law talks about 'criminal intent,' poverty may be an inducement, a background, but ultimately, it's the individual who chooses to rob, cheat, and exploit. We can't blur the lines between right and wrong just because we sympathize with their plight."
She turned her head and looked at Ye Yidong, her eyes bright and firm, as if she had turned back into the best debater in the criminal law class. "External circumstances may force a person, but that doesn't mean they are innocent. The good and evil of human nature, the nobility and baseness of choices, the initiative ultimately lies in the hands of the individual. I feel that if we ignore this and blindly blame the environment, it would be the greatest injustice to those who persist in kindness and strive to live in the same predicament."
The air in the car seemed to freeze.
Ye Yidong's grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. He glanced sideways at Lin Xiaoning, his eyes complicated. He admired her purity and persistence, but at the same time, he felt a tinge of worry. He knew all too well the complexity and grayness of the real world, and her black-and-white perspective might be hurt by this complexity. He wanted to retort, to tell her that the world wasn't just about right and wrong, but seeing her stubborn, idealistic gaze, the words on the tip of his tongue were swallowed back.
It was just a casual argument during the trip, and at the time, it wasn't even a quarrel.
But a subtle crack may have quietly formed at this moment. It stems from different growth paths, from subtle differences in their views of the world—he has witnessed too much helplessness and compromise in the intertwined power dynamics, and prefers understanding and balance; while she, despite numerous setbacks, still burns in her heart the unwavering belief in pure justice and human initiative inherited from Zhao Xianqi.
They were all silent, each looking at the scenery outside the window.
The car drove smoothly along the winding mountain road. The village at the foot of the mountain gradually moved away, finally disappearing into the vast green. It seemed as if what I had just seen and felt, as well as that brief argument, were just a small episode in the journey.
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