“It’s just enough to earn a few packs of cigarettes.” Charles Harris said modestly, then immediately switched to an indignant tone, saying, “Prices are rising so fast these days—can you even call this money anymore? I have two kids at home, one is 16, the other 14, both at the age where they eat a lot. If I don’t go out and do some side jobs to make extra money, how could I possibly support them?”

The conversation then shifted to topics like the cost of living. Around 1994, prices were rising faster than at any other time since the reforms began. Whenever a few people gathered, two out of every three sentences would be complaints about prices.

Henry Sullivan lay on his bunk for about an hour before coming down, sitting on Charles Harris’s bunk and joining the conversation.

In fact, he hadn’t fallen asleep up there; he’d heard the entire conversation between Franklin Turner and Charles Harris. Now, following the story Franklin Turner had made up, he claimed to be Franklin Turner’s uncle, accompanying his nephew to his new job, and even pretended to ask Charles Harris to look after Franklin Turner.

Charles Harris readily agreed, thumping his chest loudly. Henry Sullivan deliberately steered the conversation back to the situation at Lin Yi Machine Factory. Seeing that Henry Sullivan was older, Charles Harris felt they should have more in common, so he spoke freely, revealing quite a bit of inside dirt about the factory, leaving Henry Sullivan feeling rather frustrated.

The train arrived at Linhe Station early the next morning. The group packed up their luggage, preparing to get off. Charles Harris said enthusiastically, “Xiao Tang, Old Zhou, don’t rush to catch the bus yet. I’ll look around the station and see if there’s a car heading back to the factory—we can catch a ride together.”

“Hey, look, that’s our factory’s deputy director of the general office, David Brooks. If he’s here, he must be picking up some leader. But there’s no way we can get a ride in his car… Hmm, looks like he’s getting on the train. Could it be that the leader he’s picking up is in our carriage?”

Sure enough, a short, extremely capable-looking middle-aged man, accompanied by two sturdy young men, squeezed in through the door against the flow of disembarking passengers, heading in their direction. The passengers getting off all glared at the three of them, but the middle-aged man in the lead didn’t care at all, craning his neck to look deeper into the carriage as he walked.

When his gaze landed on Henry Sullivan, his face instantly lit up with a broad smile. He quickened his pace, squeezing over, and raised his hand, shouting loudly, “Director Zhou, don’t move! Wait for me to come get you!”

“Director Zhou?” Charles Harris followed David Brooks’s gaze and turned to Henry Sullivan, his mouth agape:

“Old Zhou… ah, no, no, Director Zhou, you’re the new factory director sent by the ministry?”

Chapter Eight: A Starved Camel Is Still Bigger Than a Horse

The news that the ministry was sending a new factory director had already been circulating wildly at Lin Yi Machine Factory, and Charles Harris was well aware of it.

He just hadn’t expected that the unassuming, middle-aged man before him would turn out to be the legendary new director. In an instant, he replayed everything he’d said to Henry Sullivan and Franklin Turner in his mind, and felt a cold sweat break out on his back.

Oh no, what on earth did I say with this big mouth of mine? I said so many things I shouldn’t have right in front of the new director. When I get back to the factory, being shot for twenty minutes wouldn’t be too much, would it?

Henry Sullivan noticed Charles Harris’s embarrassment. In fact, he’d long known that once his identity was revealed, Charles Harris would be scared out of his wits.

He reached out and patted Charles Harris on the shoulder, smiling as he said, “Old Han, sorry, I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself along the way. But the knowledge about machine tools you shared really opened our eyes. When we get back to the factory, I’ll have to formally ask you to be my teacher.”

“Machine tool knowledge? I didn’t say anything about that…” Charles Harris was momentarily stunned, but when he saw David Brooks had squeezed over to them, he understood what Henry Sullivan meant.

Henry Sullivan was clearly saying that he wouldn’t repeat what Charles Harris had said in other settings—no one would know that Charles Harris had unwittingly spilled all the factory’s secrets right in front of the new director.

However, Charles Harris also knew that having Henry Sullivan keep his secrets wouldn’t come without a price: from now on, he’d have to tie himself to Henry Sullivan’s chariot.

Ah, this mouth of mine!

Charles Harris really wanted to slap himself, but in front of David Brooks, he had to force a smile and awkwardly said to Henry Sullivan, “Director Zhou, listen to you! You’re the big boss, I’m just a lowly technician—how could I possibly be your teacher?”

At this point, David Brooks also noticed Charles Harris, but only nodded perfunctorily at him before focusing all his attention on Henry Sullivan. He said warmly, “Director Zhou, I didn’t expect you to arrive so soon. Was the journey tough? Didn’t the bureau arrange for someone to come with you?”

Henry Sullivan was an old division chief in the Second Bureau, in charge of electromechanical enterprises, and had come to Lin Yi Machine Factory to inspect the work more than a dozen times, so he and David Brooks were already acquainted. He reached out and shook David Brooks’s hand, saying, “Director Xie originally said he wanted to come with us personally, but I stopped him. I said the factory’s current situation isn’t great, it’s a mess, and it wouldn’t be right to have the bureau leaders come down to inspect. I also said, let’s wait until our factory turns a profit, then invite all the bureau leaders over, put red sashes on the heroes, and hold a celebration.”