“We’re all from Qingfeng.” The short Leonard Miller replied.

“Qingfeng?” Henry Carter was taken aback. “Which Qingfeng?”

“Qingfeng Agricultural Machinery Factory, of course. Is there any other Qingfeng in Pingyuan County?” Leonard Miller said.

“Oh, for crying out loud…” Henry Carter couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time. After all this fuss, it turned out these people were all his future colleagues. Luckily, his meddling hadn’t offended any of them, or it would have been hard to get by at the factory later.

“It’s really a case of the Dragon King’s Temple being flooded—turns out you’re all from Qingfeng Agricultural Machinery Factory. My assignment certificate is for Qingfeng Agricultural Machinery Factory too, so we’ll be colleagues from now on,” Henry Carter said.

“Are you serious?” Mark Newman widened his eyes. “That’s great! Damn, with your skills, how did you end up at a dump like ours? Oh right, Miss Young, hurry up and help Henry Carter with his stuff. And you, Leonard, are you blind?”

“Miss Young…” Henry Carter looked at Harold Young, unable to connect this tall, thick-browed young man with the word “girl.”

Mark Newman noticed Henry Carter’s confusion and laughed, “The nickname Miss Young was given back in elementary school. His surname is Yu, and back then we’d heard a story called ‘The Fisherman and the Goldfish.’ In it, the old man would go to the seaside and shout, ‘Fish girl, fish girl,’ so everyone started looking at Harold Young.”

“So that’s the origin of the nickname.” Henry Carter chuckled. Since they were all colleagues now, he stopped being reserved and handed his canvas bag and bedroll to Harold Young and Leonard Miller. Qingfeng Agricultural Machinery Factory was a few li from the county seat, and Mark Newman and the others had all come by bicycle. Now, they could give Henry Carter and his luggage a ride back to the factory together.

Along the way, the young men chatted and laughed, quickly becoming close friends. The three of them, especially Mark Newman, were straightforward and open-hearted, with Mark Newman displaying the unique warmth and simplicity of a chubby guy. He talked to Henry Carter about everything. Although Henry Carter had been a scientist in his previous life, the people he interacted with—online friends, travel buddies—were all ordinary folks, no different from young workers like Mark Newman and the others. So, blending in with them now, he didn’t feel out of place at all.

Qingfeng Agricultural Machinery Factory was located on the eastern outskirts of Pingyuan County, surrounded by an industrial area interspersed with farmland. The rice was nearly ready for harvest, golden and pleasing to the eye. Along the way, they passed factories for steel, coke, pesticides, fertilizers, and phosphate fertilizers. None were very large, clearly products of the “Five Small Local Industries” movement of the 1970s.

Just as that enthusiastic and meticulous intellectual had said earlier, after passing the pesticide factory’s gate, the group turned left onto a wide road leading to a sizable factory complex.

“Henry Carter, look, this is our Qingfeng Factory.” Mark Newman pointed at the factory area and said to Henry Carter.

Henry Carter looked up and saw a stretch of weathered, lime-stained walls topped with shards of glass to deter thieves from climbing over. Inside the walls, green trees shaded the grounds, with tall chimneys and a water tower peeking through the branches, as well as the high roofs of single-story workshops. The factory’s main gate faced the road, and since the July 1st holiday had just passed, a national flag was still flying above the gate, giving the place a festive air.

“You need to check in first before you can get your dorm assignment. Today’s Sunday, so the office isn’t open. But don’t worry, I’ll have Leonard Miller go find Little Dawson. Little Dawson is in charge of new employee check-ins,” Mark Newman said enthusiastically, arranging things for Henry Carter.

“Is it really okay to bother someone on a Sunday?” Henry Carter said, not entirely sincerely.

Mark Newman waved his hand carelessly. “What’s the problem? Little Dawson is a good friend of ours. Just wait here.”

Leonard Miller sped off on his bike and soon returned with a slender, pretty girl. According to Mark Newman, this was Little Dawson, full name Emily Dawson, the office typist who also handled reception and some HR duties.

“You’re here to check in?” Little Dawson looked Henry Carter up and down and asked in a crisp voice.

“Yes, I was assigned here after graduating from the agricultural machinery technical school. Here’s my assignment certificate,” Henry Carter said, handing it to Little Dawson.

“Alright, come with me to complete the paperwork.” Little Dawson took the certificate and turned to enter the small office building. Henry Carter hurried after her, with Mark Newman and the others following into the administrative office.

Little Dawson was clearly experienced with this kind of onboarding. She took out various forms and guided Henry Carter through filling them out. Henry Carter racked his brains to recall all his personal information, doing his best to avoid making a blunder like listing his education as postdoctoral.

“All done. Do you have your photos ready? I need two for your work ID and résumé.” Little Dawson put away the forms and held out her hand to Henry Carter.

Henry Carter rummaged through his satchel and found two one-inch photos. Seeing the face in the photo, so different from his previous life, he paused for a moment.

“What’s wrong?” Little Dawson asked curiously.

“Uh… is this really my photo?” Henry Carter said sheepishly.