Flip the table and divide the family property! Take his wife and daughter into the mountains and eat

Tian asked the question very softly, but it was like a boulder being thrown into a stagnant pool.

Brush brush.

Hundreds of eyes instantly converged on Zhang Dafa's face.

This is what everyone has been keeping in their hearts for half a month, something they really wanted to ask, but no one dared to bring it up.

Where did Zhao Shanhe go?

Where did Director Zhao go, the one who led his men to intercept the machine tools and turn the tide as soon as he entered the factory?

Where is the new factory director who ruthlessly replaced the corrupt leader, dismissed the old security department for taking bribes and favors with a single sentence, and finalized the first batch of assessment candidates with an iron fist?

Why did they disappear without a trace, especially at the most difficult time when the factory couldn't even pay wages and everyone was struggling to get enough to eat?

Did they run away?

Did they hide?

Or did he even think that the Red Star Factory was a bottomless pit that could never be filled, so he simply quit?

These speculations grew wildly in the workers' minds like poisonous weeds, and now, through the mouth of the honest lathe operator Tian, ​​they were brought to the forefront.

Wang Guowei, who was hiding behind the crowd, gradually brightened up, and a gloating sneer curled up at the corner of his mouth.

He wanted to see how Zhang Dafa would try to intimidate people this time.

In the drafty canteen, only the howling north wind outside could be heard pounding against the broken glass windows.

Everyone stared intently at Zhang Dafa, waiting for him to give a straight answer.

But Zhang Dafa didn't get angry, nor did he slam the table and yell at people like he had done before.

He stood there, his chapped lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he swallowed it back.

He was silent.

Under the gaze of hundreds of hungry, yellowed eyes filled with inquiry and fear, the deputy factory director, who had just been so imposing as to suppress the riot, fell into an eerie, deathly silence.

Zhang Dafa lowered his head and pulled out a half-empty pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his wrinkled cotton-padded jacket.

His fingers trembled uncontrollably.

It took three matches to finally light the cigarette.

He inhaled the pale blue smoke of cheap tobacco deeply into his lungs and exhaled it long, blurring his face, which was etched with wrinkles from years of work.

The more Zhang Dafa acted like this, the quieter the cafeteria became.

The silence was unsettling.

When he slammed his fist on the table, cursed, and tore open his cotton-padded coat, the people weren't actually that scared.

Because that means he's confident.

But now, Zhang Dafa has stopped cursing.

He was just smoking. That made everyone's unease creep into their bones, like the chill in the snow.

Tian, ​​the lathe operator, gripped the lunchbox tighter and asked again in a low voice, "Deputy Factory Director Zhang." "Where exactly did Factory Director Zhao go?"

Zhang Dafa's hand, holding a cigarette, froze in mid-air.

He looked up at the workers in front of him.

There are veteran workers.

There are young apprentices.

There were strong laborers in the workshop, as well as young men who had just joined the factory and whose faces still looked immature.

They are not all bad.

Not everyone wanted to cause trouble. Many people were just hungry, scared, and insecure.

Wages weren't being paid, the food was getting worse every day, Workshop No. 1 was locked up tight, and Zhao Shanhe, the factory's most capable leader, hadn't been seen for half a month.

Anyone would feel resentful in that situation.

But there are some things Zhang Dafa can't say.

His silence made the workers below even more uncertain.

Zhang Dafa, with a cigarette between his fingers, listened to the varying breaths around him, his back soaked with cold sweat that had soaked through his old sweater.

Tian the lathe operator is right.

Wages weren't being paid, the food was getting worse every day, Workshop No. 1 was locked up tight, and Zhao Shanhe, the factory's most capable leader, hadn't been seen for half a month.

Anyone would feel resentful in that situation.

But there are some things Zhang Dafa just can't say.

Not only could he not say it, but even he himself had been feeling uneasy every day for the past two weeks.

Where exactly did Zhao Shanhe go? He didn't know either; probably only Liang Tiejun knew.

Two days ago, he couldn't take it anymore and went to Director Liang's office in the middle of the night and slammed his fist on the table.

When Lao Liang was cornered, he vaguely revealed that he had gone to find a way to recruit Soviet experts for that machine.

But when Zhang Dafa pressed him on whether it was Director Li from the Municipal Bureau who made the connection, Lao Liang turned pale and shut his mouth tightly.

Finally, forced into a corner, Lao Liang stammered, "It wasn't a lead from the Municipal Bureau; Director Zhao went out and risked his life to find his own way."

When Zhang Dafa heard this, his legs went weak on the spot.

Those were Soviet experts.

Instead of going through the official channels of the ministry and bureau, a new factory director of the Red Star Factory went out on his own to find the Soviets through unorthodox means.

In the current climate, this is practically risking one's life by jumping off a cliff. The slightest mishap, any entanglement with some shady overseas connections, and not only would the Red Star Factory be thoroughly investigated, but Zhao Shanhe himself could face execution.

This matter was so huge that Zhang Dafa didn't even dare to think about it too deeply.

The cigarette butt burned to the bottom and scalded my finger.

Zhang Dafa's fingers twitched nervously, and the sharp pain instantly pulled him back from that huge panic.

He threw the remaining half of the cigarette butt at his feet and crushed it out with the soles of his worn-out cotton shoes.

He must not panic.

The hundreds of hungry workers below were watching him closely. If he showed the slightest sign of weakness, the canteen would immediately turn into a battlefield where the factory would be smashed.

Zhang Dafa raised his head, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Tian Chegong, and also on the hundreds of fearful and uneasy eyes below.

"Director Zhao is not out of the picture."

He finally spoke, his hoarse voice sounding particularly heavy in the deathly silent cafeteria.

"They didn't give up either."

"He went out to do something crucial for our factory that could save it."

There was a moment of silence below.

Clutching his lunchbox, Tian subconsciously asked, "What important matter could it be that you haven't given any definite news for over half a month...?"

"Don't pry into things you shouldn't be asking!"

Zhang Dafa rudely interrupted him: "All you need to know is that if this important matter is resolved, Hongxing Factory will survive! Not only will we be able to pay the back wages, but the doors to Workshop No. 1 will be wide open, and we'll be eating big meat dumplings every day!"

His gaze, like red-hot coals, swept across the entire room.

"The sky won't fall down at the factory until Director Zhao returns!"

"Even if it collapses, Factory Director Liang and I will be there to hold it up for you!"

"Anyone who dares to spread rumors at this critical juncture, anyone who dares to cause trouble for the factory, I, Zhang Dafa, will not let them off lightly!"

After saying that, Zhang Dafa did not give anyone another chance to ask questions.

He turned around abruptly, wrapped his tattered, leaky cotton-padded coat tighter around himself, and strode out of the canteen, braving the biting wind blowing in from outside.

The room was left with a group of workers looking at each other in bewilderment, and Wang Guowei, hiding behind the crowd with an uncertain expression.

As soon as I stepped out of the cafeteria, a cold wind carrying fine snowflakes lashed down on me.

Zhang Dafa's legs went weak, and he stumbled. He quickly reached out and braced himself against the cold red brick wall beside him.

The composure and confidence I had just mustered in front of hundreds of people vanished the moment I was out of their sight.

He was breathing heavily, his whole body trembling uncontrollably.

Zhang Dafa raised his head, gazing at the endless, gray rain in the north. His chapped lips trembled slightly as he silently murmured a sentence to himself.

Director Zhao, oh Director Zhao, where on earth did you go to find this deadly remedy? You absolutely must come back safe and sound!