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The Eighties: From Rags to Riches
墨書 Inktalez
In the late summer of 1982, at the Red Star Appliance Repair Service Department, the afternoon shift had just begun. Director Ma Guoqiang returned from outside with a batch of bicycle parts, claiming he had finally managed to secure some hard-to-get supplies from above. He instructed Shen Weidong and another apprentice, Wang Hao, to move the items into the warehouse.
As Shen Weidong carried a box, he noticed Director Ma quickly stuffing a few pairs of imported bearings wrapped in oil paper into his army-green satchel while pretending to count the parts. Wang Hao also saw this and immediately lowered his head, acting as if nothing had happened.
"Great, another case of embezzlement," Shen Weidong thought coldly to himself; he had witnessed such behavior frequently over the past half month.
After finishing the inventory registration, Master Qian, a familiar face on the repair orders, hurried over with a slip of paper. "Director, we have a problem! Section Chief Wang's Permanent bicycle has completely seized bearings. He insists we replace them today, but we have no stock!"
Director Ma maintained a businesslike demeanor. "No stock means no stock. Tell Section Chief Wang to either wait for the next batch or figure it out himself. We can't accommodate every request in this small operation."
Standing nearby, Shen Weidong felt a surge of anger at Director Ma's words and recalled the bearings in his satchel. As a renowned industrial robot technician in the 21st century, he was no longer the meek apprentice who would silently endure bullying.
He stepped forward with an expression of feigned innocence and curiosity. "Director Ma, that doesn't seem right. I saw several pairs of bearings wrapped in oil paper among the new parts, clearly marked as 'Permanent.' Perhaps you overlooked them while busy with registration? Section Chief Wang is pressing for a solution; maybe we could use those as a temporary fix?"
At this remark, both Director Ma and Master Qian's expressions changed dramatically.
"What nonsense are you spouting?" Master Qian was the first to react, pointing an accusing finger at Shen Weidong. "Are you seeing things? Those are Phoenix Brand! Besides, do you think you can just look at the inventory freely? Are you trying to steal parts?"
Director Ma's face darkened; he hadn't expected Shen Weidong, who usually kept to himself, would dare to expose his little scheme. He barked angrily, "Shen Weidong! Who gave you the audacity to question your superiors? I see you're dissatisfied with your position and are deliberately spreading rumors! Those bearings are specially allocated for specific purposes! If you continue this nonsense, I will report you to the Security Department for stealing state property!"
Faced with their accusations and threats, Shen Weidong's anger flared even more. Simultaneously, that strange sensation washed over him again. He forced himself to remain calm and focused intently on Director Ma's bulging satchel.
In his mind's eye, the image of the satchel became clear; he could vividly see the outlines of those bearings! He even sensed Director Ma's underlying panic beneath his bluster. His peripheral vision caught sight of the dusty Grinding Machine in the corner marked for disposal; its internal structure diagram instantly appeared in his mind—its Electric Motor was intact but its carbon brushes were dirty and jammed.
A slight wave of dizziness hit him; he knew it was a backlash from activating his Ability. The Maintenance Space he had awakened was akin to a golden finger in mechanical repair. This space could store various parts and tools; when faced with malfunctioning machinery, all he needed was to concentrate his thoughts, and precise structural diagrams would instantly materialize in his mind, allowing him to quickly locate damage points. During repairs, the space could release energy to assist him, greatly enhancing efficiency and accuracy—though it consumed a significant amount of his Mental Power. Because of this, he hadn't yet figured out other uses for his personal space.
Taking a deep breath to suppress his anger, he instead wore a playful smile and decided to change tactics. "Perhaps I really did missee; my apologies, Director Ma and Master Qian." His tone shifted as if his previous doubts were merely misunderstandings. Then he pointed toward the Grinding Machine in the corner. "But speaking of parts and disposal—what about that Grinding Machine? The Electric Motor sounds fine; it’s just that the carbon brushes are stuck. Cleaning them should make it usable again; declaring it as scrap seems wasteful. If higher-ups come for an inspection, it might not be easy to explain."
He deliberately emphasized "higher-ups" when he spoke.
Director Ma found himself caught off guard by Shen Weidong's subtle yet firm insinuation laced with veiled threats. The Grinding Machine was indeed something he planned to dismantle for personal gain; if this got out, while it might not lead to severe consequences, it would certainly damage his reputation and could affect his chances for recognition at year-end evaluations.
He glared fiercely at Shen Weidong; when did this kid become so sharp-tongued and daring enough to threaten him?
"You!" Director Ma's finger trembled with rage. "What kind of attitude is this? I see you don’t want to work anymore! Fine! Shen Weidong, you're fired! Right now! Get out immediately!"
He decided to cut through the chaos and get rid of this annoying presence at once.
Master Qian snickered from the side, looking at Shen Weidong with contempt.
"Fine then!" Shen Weidong no longer bothered with pretense; sarcasm dripped from his words. "This hellhole is suffocating anyway; I've wanted out for ages! With your level of competence, you'll be closing shop soon enough!"
He walked up to Master Qian, who pulled out some coins from his drawer and tossed them onto the table. "Here’s your pay after deducting for tools you broke during your apprenticeship. Take it and get lost!"
Shen Weidong picked up the money and stuffed it into his pocket without even looking at it.
"There's also the introduction letter; don't even think about it. What kind of place would want a troublemaking apprentice like you?" Director Ma believed he had grasped Shen Weidong's weakness.
"My skills don’t need your pathetic unit to provide an introduction letter," Shen Weidong scoffed. "Let me tell you, thirty years in the east, thirty years in the west; don’t underestimate the young just because they are poor! We’ll see who has the last laugh!"
"You!" Director Ma and Master Qian were so furious their faces turned green.
After saying this, Shen Weidong turned and walked out, head held high, without a trace of hesitation.
As he reached the door, he spotted Director Ma's impeccably clean Permanent brand bicycle. Just yesterday, Director Ma had been showing it off in the courtyard, boasting about its newly replaced imported chain.
A cold smile crept onto Shen Weidong's lips as he approached the bicycle. He pretended to walk around it but casually brushed his right foot against the connection point of the rear wheel chain.
At the moment his toes made contact, he subtly focused his thoughts, allowing a faint stream of Mental Power to seep in—not to destroy but to create extremely fine cracks within the chain.
Having completed this, he nonchalantly withdrew his foot and strode out of the Red Star Repair Service Department, leaving behind the furious shouts of Director Ma and Master Qian.
The sunlight outside was just right, and the streets were bustling with traffic and life. Shen Weidong took a deep breath; the air was mixed with coal smoke and dust, making him feel an unprecedented sense of freedom.
"Having left this hellhole, I can soar as high as I want! With my 'skills,' who needs to worry about food? Ma Guoqiang, Old Dog Qian, just wait for me!"
He felt in his pocket the pitiful amount of salary he had left. Spotting a small stall across the street selling wontons, steam rising and aroma wafting through the air, he called out energetically, "Boss! One big bowl of wontons with extra chili oil!" and strode over.
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