Chapter 5: This Is Nothing to Worry About

"That's wonderful!" Mu Aijun exclaimed, slapping his thigh with enthusiasm.

"Xiao Zhao, you've really made a great contribution this time. I stand by my word—once this issue is resolved, the factory will definitely reward you!"

"That's right, Director Mu is absolutely correct! Talented young comrades like Xiao Zhao deserve our special attention," Ma Jian chimed in, nodding and smiling warmly at Zhao Guoyang.

"By the way, Xiao Zhao, from the way you just spoke, it seems you're not unfamiliar with sales. How about it? Are you interested in joining our sales department and giving it a try?"

Zhao Guoyang was momentarily taken aback by Ma Jian's suggestion. Truthfully, he was indeed no stranger to sales. As the pillar of a former research institute, he had frequently communicated and negotiated with domestic and international partners; not only was he fluent in several languages, but his eloquence was unparalleled.

However, having been reborn in this parallel world, Zhao Guoyang naturally wished to apply his knowledge and skills to transform the country’s lagging industrial sector. If he were relegated to sales, it would be a waste of his talents.

Thus, regarding Ma Jian’s proposal, Zhao Guoyang rubbed his hands together and replied modestly, "Director Ma, I’d rather focus on technology. I don’t really know much about sales."

At that moment, Wang Youchang interjected, "Old Ma, what are you playing at? Is this how you do things? Trying to poach someone right in front of me? Let me tell you, Xiao Zhao is a talent in our technical department. Want him to switch to sales? Not a chance!"

Ma Jian was left red-faced by Wang Youchang's sharp retort. Seeing Director Ma’s awkward expression, Mu Aijun hurried to smooth things over. "Alright, alright, we’ve all seen Xiao Zhao’s abilities. We must make the most of such talent—never let it go to waste."

Seeing Ma Jian's sour expression, Mu Aijun turned to Wang Youchang. "But, Youchang, there’s some sense in what Old Ma said."

"Xiao Zhao is a university graduate. For a high achiever like him, we should give him opportunities in various positions to train and develop him, so he can shoulder greater responsibilities."

"By the way, after this batch of chassis is repaired, isn’t Old Ma heading to Sanyang Group for negotiations? I think Xiao Zhao should tag along, take a look, and learn from the advanced techniques of a major state-owned enterprise. What do you think?"

Wang Youchang rolled his eyes and said nothing, silently muttering in his heart: You're the boss, so of course it’s your call. Would I dare say no?

Zhao Guoyang, for his part, was unfazed by the praise and recognition from the factory leaders. In his eyes, this was hardly anything remarkable.

Truth be told, in terms of ability and expertise, even serving as director of Hongda Machinery Factory would be beneath him.

With the chassis issue resolved, and the leaders in high spirits, he took the opportunity to request leave for the next day to return home and fetch some clothes. With late autumn here, it was time to prepare for the winter.

Mu Aijun readily agreed to his small request, waving his hand with gusto. "No problem. Is one day enough? If not, take a few more."

Wang Youchang smiled and added, "That’s right, Xiao Zhao. You just acted heroically and were unconscious for days. You probably haven’t fully recovered—take the chance to rest at home."

"Yes, yes, Xiao Zhao, go home and rest. Be sure to bring plenty of clothes. When you come back, you’ll be accompanying me on a business trip to Yangcheng!" Ma Jian chimed in jovially.

Wang Youchang couldn’t help but glare at Ma Jian, but Ma Jian was unfazed, hands in pockets, looking indifferent.

In truth, the two men were similar in age and experience, both practical and capable, well aware of each other’s strengths and shortcomings. Their poor relations stemmed from differences in approach and personality—a typical internal dispute.

If not for this, Mu Aijun would never allow them to spar openly in front of others.

...

The next morning, Zhao Guoyang rose early, went to the unit cafeteria with meal tickets, and bought a bowl of plain rice porridge and six meat buns, hurrying back to the dormitory.

Naturally, he didn’t eat all six buns himself; half were for Xu Dongfeng. That fellow always slept late and relied on Zhao Guoyang to bring him breakfast.

After eating, Zhao Guoyang called out to the still-bedridden Xu Dongfeng, "Hey, Dongfeng, I’m taking your bicycle today. I won’t be back tonight, so I’ll leave it at the station."

"Mm, alright, got it," Xu Dongfeng mumbled, head buried under the covers. Whether he was truly listening was anyone’s guess.

Leaving the dorm, Zhao Guoyang rode Xu Dongfeng's battered twenty-eight-inch "Forever" bicycle toward the bus station on the western side of town.

Cycling along the asphalt road, watching the pedestrians he overtook one by one, Zhao Guoyang couldn’t help but hum a little tune.

In the early 90s, few young people in small cities could afford a new bicycle; having an old, handed-down twenty-eight-inch bike was already a privilege. Although Xu Dongfeng was about the same age as Zhao Guoyang, he’d started working right after graduating from technical school several years earlier.

He liked to keep up with trends, and after joining the factory, he scrimped and saved to buy a brand-new "Forever" bicycle in pursuit of a girl. But his biggest flaw was his carelessness and sloppiness. After failing to win the girl’s heart, his once-new bicycle soon gathered dust and rust.

The roads in those days were mediocre, but there were few cars and nowhere near as many traffic lights as in later years, so Zhao Guoyang had a smooth ride all the way.

Ninghai City’s West Bus Station wasn’t far from Hongda Machinery Factory—only three to five kilometers, a ten-minute ride at most.

Though Ninghai was merely a county-level city, its economic strength was among the best in Guangling, outpacing other counties, so its bus station was grander than most.

Zhao Guoyang parked the bicycle at the station’s storage area, handing the old attendant two mao as a deposit.

"Storage is five fen per day, settle up when you return," the old man said leisurely, legs crossed.

"Alright, got it, grandpa," Zhao Guoyang replied, heading into the ticket hall.

From the outside, the hall looked quite impressive. The concrete walls were coated with white lime, making it stand out from the surrounding red-brick, black-tile buildings.

Inside, the floor was covered with polished granite. Though granite would seem unremarkable to Zhao Guoyang in the future, in this era it was considered a high-end material.

But Zhao Guoyang had little interest in such details right now.