Who doesn’t know the score? William had no family ties and didn’t take a salary from home, running back and forth all day. What he did was certainly more considerate and reliable than her son, the deputy factory director. Even if he had some requests, he didn’t hide anything. Honest people from the countryside coming to the city to make a living, if they could help, they would help. The old lady didn’t think about any benefits; what mattered between people was mutual assistance.
She just found William pleasing to the eye!
The National Cotton Mill No. 3 was at its most glorious period, with tens of thousands of workers and an annual profit of twenty to thirty million. It was also a major player in foreign exchange earnings among state-owned enterprises in the commercial city.
One can imagine how busy the deputy factory director must be.
Manuel was on the go every day, with the factory workers working in three shifts, and as the deputy director, he couldn’t be too idle either. A few days ago, his father had fallen and injured his foot. Apart from visiting the hospital once, Manuel had only come to see him once more; this was the second visit.
Last time he had seen William, and while he couldn’t say he liked William’s behavior, the man was genuinely there to help. As a son, Manuel couldn’t neglect his injured father, nor could he just send William away, right?
William had helped with things that Manuel, as a son, had failed to do. He was worried that William might later make some difficult requests, and seeing William made him feel a bit guilty.
Most of the current unit leaders were genuinely honest, focused solely on the factory’s interests, without too many chaotic thoughts.
If it were in later years, in a large state-owned enterprise like National Cotton Mill No. 3, would Manuel still worry about not being able to find someone to take care of his injured father? He would only fear that unappreciated subordinates would be fighting for the job. But now, no one could have imagined this situation. Manuel was also in charge of distributing housing to the factory workers, and because it was hard to satisfy everyone, he often faced harsh criticism from the workers.
He was a thin man with a round face, and the workers privately called him “Manuel Big Head.”
Did Manuel not know?
He was well aware!
But what could he do? Some workers had been with National Cotton Mill No. 3 since it was established in the 1950s, and their seniority was even greater than his. When he encountered stubborn ones, he could only hold his nose and walk around them. Those workers were quite bold; they weren’t afraid of being fired from the factory. With the good performance of National Cotton Mill No. 3, the workers could walk past Manuel with their heads held high, and for the sake of production, Manuel had to coax them instead.
Clearly holding great power, yet having no place to use it, he had to juggle work while dealing with the pressure from his wife and mother, and he couldn’t even serve his injured father to fulfill his filial duty… In such a predicament, how could Deputy Director Manuel handle William, who was so familiar and attentive?
He felt no sense of superiority, thinking, “My father is so impressive, you should be flattering me,” but rather, he was anxious!
After finally finding time to return home, he found that his father had gone to the hospital for a follow-up, and he missed him again.
However, his mother had made him pork dumplings, and as Manuel ate with grease dripping from his mouth, before he could even put down his chopsticks, his mother spoke up:
“Are the dumplings good? Today, the dough was kneaded by Gabriel. His strength is greater than your useless old mother… You’re eating dumplings made by Gabriel, and he’s also taking care of your father. How can you be so at ease without any explanation?!”
The “Gabriel” his mother mentioned waved his hands repeatedly, muttering that it was the least he could do.
His mother was not pleased with Manuel: “You can’t bully Gabriel, he’s an honest person!”
Anyone unaware of the situation might think that Manuel was adopted, and “Gabriel” was his mother’s biological son.
“Comrade William, please sit down. Let’s have a good talk.”
Manuel felt increasingly indebted, wondering how he could repay William. If William had something to say, he should speak up quickly; if it didn’t harm the factory’s interests, he would help.
Manuel had heard that William came from the countryside and thought it might be about arranging for relatives to work in the factory. With the good performance of National Cotton Mill No. 3, the first batch of workers from when the factory was established had aged, and their children wanted to work in the factory, they had to line up. National Cotton Mill No. 3 was not short of workers.
Some talents in the factory were in their forties, and to free up positions for the next generation, they had to retire early.
One carrot, one hole; if William wanted to ask him for help getting into the factory, Manuel thought it would be difficult, but he had to brace himself and try to resolve it. The factory was only hiring children of factory workers or those with urban household registrations; it was indeed difficult for those with rural registrations… Especially since every word and action of his was closely monitored by the workers clamoring for housing.
