Chapter 151 Nobody will go against double pay.

Night at the Northwest Base; the wind and sand howled.

Inside the side hall of the Fifth Workshop, the lights were brightly lit.

On the podium, He Zhenhua adjusted the focal length of the projector with one hand.

The beam of light pierced through the dust, illuminating his empty left sleeve and his face, which was as cold and hard as iron.

Snap.

A sheet of film covered in data was projected onto the screen.

“This is 'SOP,' Standard Operating Procedure.”

He Zhenhua's voice wasn't loud,

“And 'KPI,' Key Performance Indicators.”

Sitting below the stage were the vice factory directors in charge of production from eighteen major state-owned factories.

Normally, these people were the absolute masters of their own little domains.

At this moment, as they looked at the dense assessment tables, piece-rate formulas, and the conspicuous 'bottom-tier reassignment mechanism' on the screen, their brows furrowed into deep frowns.

“Engineer He.”

Vice Director Wang of the Xicheng Machine Tool Factory couldn't help but raise his hand.

“Isn't this system of yours a bit... too much?”

He weighed his words carefully:

“A bit too cold-hearted.”

“We are major state-owned factories; we emphasize dedication and the spirit of being masters of the enterprise.”

“You have piece-rates here, and then you want 'reassignments'.”

“Will the workers agree to this? How will we explain it to the labor union?”

“Indeed.”

Beside him, Vice Director Liu of Tianjin No. 1 Machine Tool also took off his glasses and rubbed his temples.

“Our veteran workers treat the factory like their home.”

“This 'bottom-tier reassignment' means they won't be allowed to do technical work anymore.”

“They might even have to sweep toilets or guard the gate; that would be more painful for them than dying.”

“Where is the dignity in that?”

A chorus of agreement rose from below the stage.

In this era where food stamps were still needed and the 'iron rice bowl' was prized,

everyone wanted to improve efficiency, but they were still fearful of 'breaking the big communal pot.'

He Zhenhua remained expressionless.

He didn't argue; he simply calmly switched to another slide.

“Dignity? That is something you only have after the job is done well.”

He Zhenhua pointed at the screen.

“As for whether the workers will agree...”

“I would like to invite an old friend up to speak.”

He beckoned toward a corner: “Old Zhang, come on up.”

The crowd stirred slightly.

A middle-aged man wearing a gray zhongshan suit stood up somewhat stiffly.

It was Zhang Dewang, the Production Section Chief of the Shanghai Huashang Electric Fan Factory.

“Is this that Huashang Factory that does OEM work for Red Star?” someone whispered.

Old Zhang rubbed his hands together as he stood on the podium, looking a bit awkward.

“Uh... Hello, everyone.”

Old Zhang cleared his throat.

“A year and a half ago, everyone should know what the situation was like at our Huashang Factory.”

“Even though we were an established major factory, our performance in recent years was just so-so.”

“Some veteran masters would spend half the day with 'a cup of tea, a pack of cigarettes, and a newspaper'.”

“Factory Director Xue wanted to manage them but couldn't; it was a real headache.”

“Later, Manager Lin sent a team in to implement this SOP thing.”

Old Zhang gave a bitter smile.

“At first, we cursed too.”

“We called Red Star 'Zhou the Skinner' and cursed them for treating people like machines.”

“Before, we'd assemble fifty fans a day, and everyone would just drink tea and chat the time away.”

“After they came, they stipulated that even tightening a screw had to be timed with a stopwatch.”

“If anyone worked slowly, they wouldn't just lose their bonus.”

“They’d have to go to the logistics squad to help in the kitchen or clean—what we call being 'marginalized'.”

The factory directors below the stage nodded one after another, their faces showing expressions of 'as I thought.'

In a state-owned factory, this was indeed a ruthless move that offended people.

“But!”

Old Zhang’s tone shifted, and his voice suddenly jumped an octave.

“When the first month's wages were paid out, no one was cursing anymore.”

He held up one hand, five fingers spread wide and trembling slightly.

“A front-line assembly worker's average wage was one hundred and twenty yuan!”

“Skilled workers... they were hitting one hundred and eighty!”

Boom—!

The crowd below the stage instantly erupted.

One hundred and twenty yuan? One hundred and eighty yuan?

One must realize that for these department-level and deputy-bureau-level factory directors present, their fixed monthly salary was only about a hundred yuan!

A worker tightening screws was earning more than a factory director?

“Engineer Zhang, you aren't bragging, are you?”

Vice Director Wang's eyes were nearly bulging out.

“One hundred and eighty? That's higher than our salaries!”

“I'm a grandson if I'm lying to you!”

Old Zhang's face turned beet red as he waved his arms excitedly.

“Before, it was the big communal pot—it didn't matter how much you did, so everyone naturally slacked off.”

“Now it's piece-rate; the more you work, the more you get, and there's no cap!”

“Those troublemakers who used to just idle away their days in the workshop were reassigned to guard the gates.”

“When they saw their former apprentices, who used to be inferior to them, taking home over a hundred yuan, they were green with envy!”

“They were crying and screaming as they wrote self-criticisms, begging to return to the front-line workshop!”

“You have no idea; the workers in our factory now...”

“To keep their positions and to make more money, they don't even want to leave after work!”

“They scramble for overtime!”

“If anyone dares to mess with the system at this critical juncture,”

“the Security Department wouldn't even need to lift a finger; their fellow workers would drown them in spit!”

“Why?”

“Because this mechanism has made everyone rich with cold, hard cash!”

“Who would refuse money?”

Silence.

A long silence.

The looks in all the factory directors' eyes changed.

It shifted from doubt and disdain to shock, and finally to naked fanaticism.

What dignity? What sentiment? What 'difficult to manage'?

In the face of the fact that 'wages doubled,' all of those were just excuses!

If they could let the workers in their factories earn one hundred and eighty yuan, forget about marginalization—they'd have them recite Red Star Quotes every day if that's what it took!

“Engineer He!”

Vice Director Wang was the first to jump up. Abandoning his earlier reserve, he rushed straight to the edge of the podium.

“Can we have a copy of this SOP manual? No, two copies!”

“We want that piece-rate algorithm!”

“And the details of that reassignment mechanism!”

“It seems some idlers in our factory really need to go guard the gates to clear their heads!”

In an instant, the podium was surrounded so tightly that not a drop of water could leak through.

This group of normally dignified major factory directors were now waving their notebooks, terrified of missing a single word.

He Zhenhua left the system manuals on the podium and stood on the periphery of the crowd.

He watched these helmsmen who had fallen into a frenzy.

On his face, which was usually as cold and hard as iron, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, revealing a very rare smile.

In that smile, there was no mockery or pride.

There was only the relief of watching one's own child finally learn to walk, even carrying a hint of... kindness.

Like an old mother watching an ignorant son finally see the light.

“The foundation has been laid,”

He Zhenhua murmured to himself.

With these major factories driven by profit, China's industrial standardization was finally about to take its bloody but solid first step.