78: Chapter 78: The Drawing of the Red Line

Wednesday, July 19th, 6:50 AM.

The iron doors of the Shenyang Machine Tool assembly workshop creaked open in the morning light. Workers filed in, just as they had for decades—carrying aluminum lunchboxes, holding chipped enamel mugs, their work uniforms washed to a faded white but pressed flat.

Then, they saw those little green squares.

Next to the control panels of the twelve key pieces of equipment in the workshop, palm-sized QR codes had been posted. Beside them were printed operating instructions: "Scan code → Fill in daily work plan → Fill in completion status before getting off work → Submit." The font was standard Microsoft YaHei, looking completely out of place in the old workshop.

Xiao Wang, a young production assistant sent by Xingchen, a twenty-four-year-old girl wearing a brand-new Xingchen uniform, was explaining to the early-arriving workers one by one: "Master, this is our new 'Daily Work Log' system. You just need to scan it with WeChat. It's very simple; you can finish filling it out in five minutes..."

Veteran technician Zhou Jianguo stopped in his tracks. He was fifty-two years old and had worked at Shenyang Machine Tool for a full thirty years, rising from an apprentice to an eighth-level fitter. He stared at the QR code for a full half-minute.

"What is the meaning of this?" Old Zhou's voice wasn't loud, but the workshop instantly went quiet.

Xiao Wang quickly explained: "Master Zhou, this is for knowledge retention. Whatever you do every day, what problems you encounter, and how you solve them, by recording them, new colleagues can learn from them in the future..."

"Learn?" Old Zhou interrupted her, reaching out to peel the QR code off the machine tool and slapping it onto the nearby workbench. "I've been in this factory for thirty years, and I haven't even written thirty words for my year-end summaries! Now you want me to write a diary every day? Am I a worker or a primary school student?"

His voice rose: "I am Zhou Jianguo, an eighth-level fitter! My craft is knowing how much allowance is left just by touching the workpiece, and knowing the extent of tool wear just by listening to the cutting sound! You want me to write these down? How do I write it? 'Listened to the machine tool sound for eight hours today, felt pretty good'?"

Several Old Master Craftsmen nearby couldn't help but laugh, but their laughter carried the same dissatisfaction.

Xiao Wang's face turned bright red: "Master Zhou, that's not what I meant... We can help you..."

"No need to help." Old Zhou waved his hand and turned to walk toward his workstation. "I'll do my work. I can guarantee the machine tool's precision, and I can guarantee the quality of the parts. As for anything else, forget it."

That day, there were 47 Old Master Craftsmen like Zhou Jianguo.

They started the machines, worked, inspected, and repaired as usual, and the sound of the machine tools running continued to roar. But when Xiao Wang or other young assistants came over with tablets and asked them to fill out the logs, the answers were almost unanimous:

"Busy."

"Don't know how to do it."

"Talk about it later."

This "later" lasted until the bell rang for the end of the shift.

At 4:00 PM, the scheduled production dispatch meeting began on time.

This was the first formal meeting after Xingchen implemented the new management system. According to the new regulations, workshop directors and team leaders needed to report the day's production progress, quality issues, and equipment status, and submit work logs as evidence.

Around the oval conference table, all six members of the Xingchen team were present. Opposite them, only three of the seven workshop directors and team leaders from the Shenyang side had arrived. The four empty seats were particularly glaring.

Li Feng, who was presiding over the meeting, checked his watch: "Let's wait another five minutes."

Five minutes passed, and they didn't come.

Ten minutes, and still no one came.

Li Feng dialed the assembly workshop director's phone: "Director Zhang, the meeting has started. Where are you?"

The noisy sound of machine tools came from the other end of the line: "General Manager Li, I have some urgent work here. The workshop received an emergency order, I can't get away... Why don't you start without me?"

Li Feng restrained his patience: "What about your work log? Xiao Wang said you haven't filled it out yet."

"Oh, that QR code, my phone can't scan it! I have an old-fashioned phone, it doesn't have that function... Let's just leave it at that, I'm going to get back to work!"

The phone hung up.

Li Feng looked at the other three Shenyang cadres who were present. One was an old director from the heat treatment workshop who was close to retirement and kept his head down drinking tea. The other two were young team leaders with awkward expressions.

"Everyone," Li Feng tried to keep his voice calm, "The work log system is to make management more transparent and to allow experience to be passed down. This is not formalism, it is..."

"General Manager Li." The heat treatment workshop director put down his teacup and spoke slowly, "I'll tell you the truth, I hope you won't mind hearing it."

He looked around the conference room: "Us old folks have worked our whole lives recognizing blueprints, calipers, and dial indicators. You want us to recognize computers, QR codes, and some system—it's not that we don't want to, it's that we can't. Our eyes are blurry, our fingers are thick, we can't tap on such small keyboards."

He paused: "Besides, among the Old Master Craftsmen here, who doesn't have a unique skill? But those unique skills are feelings in the hands, sounds in the ears, and decades of muscle memory. How do you expect them to write these into a computer?"

The conference room fell silent.

The setting sun slanted in from outside the window, casting long shadows on the table.

Li Feng finally announced: "Today's meeting is canceled. Meeting adjourned."

For the first time in the history of the Xingchen team, a meeting was aborted due to insufficient attendance.

The news quickly spread throughout the factory area.

When the shift ended, the old workers walked out of the workshop in twos and threes, with a complex expression on their faces—some dissatisfaction, some smugness, and also a faint sense of unease.

"Did you hear? The meeting didn't happen!"

"Old Zhou slapped that QR code on the table today, tough guy!"

"Those young people from Xingchen now know that we aren't easy to push around."

Zhou Jianguo walked in the crowd, not saying a word. He wasn't actually happy inside. He wasn't against reform, nor was he intentionally making things difficult. He just felt frustrated—he had made a living by his craft his whole life, and now that he was old, he was being controlled by a bunch of rules and regulations he couldn't understand.

When he walked to the factory gate, he saw Liu Weiguo.

Ma Zhendong was standing next to the guard room, talking to a few Old Master Craftsmen. Seeing Zhou Jianguo, he waved.

"Old Zhou, come here."

Zhou Jianguo walked over. Several Old Master Craftsmen gathered around; they were all technical backbones in the workshop.

"I heard about today's incident," Ma Zhendong said straight to the point. "You didn't post the QR code, you didn't attend the meeting—Old Zhou, who are you trying to show this to?"

Zhou Jianguo didn't expect Ma Zhendong to be so direct and was stunned for a moment: "Old Ma, I..."

"I know what you're thinking," Ma Zhendong interrupted him. "You think those things are useless, you think it's formalism, and you think us Old Master Craftsmen shouldn't have to take this kind of frustration. Isn't that right?"

Zhou Jianguo didn't speak, which counted as tacit agreement.

"Then let me ask you," Ma Zhendong stared at him. "With the factory the way it is now, are we going to save it with our old methods, or with new methods?"

This question was heavy.

Ma Zhendong continued: "People from Germany came to look and said our equipment is scrap metal. Experts from Beijing came and said our people are a burden. Now Xingchen is here, bringing money, technology, and orders. They are here to save this factory!"

His voice rose: "Yes, their methods are different from ours. They want logs, meetings, forms—it's troublesome, awkward, and uncomfortable. But Old Zhou, have you thought about it? If we keep using our old methods, can this factory survive?"

The surroundings fell silent. The workers leaving work slowed their pace.

"These past few days, I've been repairing machine tools together with that General Manager Zhao from Xingchen, and those young people," Ma Zhendong's tone softened. "They don't understand our old experience, but they understand new things. They twisted our experience together with their technology—that's how those three machine tools were repaired."

He looked at everyone: "Our craft is a good thing. But good things need to be known by others and passed down. How to pass it down? By word of mouth? By teaching hand-in-hand? How many people can you teach that way? If it's written down and made into a system, it can teach hundreds or thousands of people!"

Zhou Jianguo lowered his head, his hands balled into fists in his work uniform pockets.

"Old Zhou, and everyone else," Ma Zhendong finally said. "We are not enemies with Xingchen. Our goal is the same—to bring this factory back to life and make the 'Shenyang Machine Tool' brand shine again."

He patted Zhou Jianguo on the shoulder: "Is writing a log shameful? It's not shameful. Our craft is valuable, and our experience is precious—so it should be written down even more, so that everyone knows that us old folks are not a burden, but treasures!"

The setting sun stretched Ma Zhendong's shadow long. The tarnished medals on the chest of this fifty-eight-year-old Old Master Craftsman shone with a faint light in the afterglow.

Zhou Jianguo raised his head, his eyes a bit red: "Old Ma, I... I just can't swallow this frustration."

"Then use that frustration in the right place," Ma Zhendong said. "Tomorrow, I will be the first one to write the log. Will you write it or not?"

After a long while, Zhou Jianguo nodded heavily: "I'll write it."

Just as the daily log controversy was fermenting, another more intense conflict was brewing.

On July 20th, the audit team sent by Xingchen completed its preliminary review of the Shenyang Machine Tool supplier system. The results were shocking.

In the conference room, the audit team leader and Xingchen Deputy Finance Director Zhang Lei placed a report on the table. Her expression was grim.

"We reviewed the procurement contracts of Shenyang Machine Tool for the past three years, totaling 872, involving 147 suppliers," Zhang Lei pulled up the PPT. "Among them, 13 suppliers have serious problems."

She listed them one by one:

- "Zhenhua Machinery Parts Factory" — total supply amount of 42 million over the past three years, but the unqualified rate in quality spot checks was as high as 37%. The key point is that its legal representative is the nephew of the former vice factory director in charge of logistics at Shenyang Machine Tool.

- "Northern Special Steel Co., Ltd." — supply price was 15%-20% higher than the market average, and it delayed delivery multiple times. Its actual controller is the child of a retired leader from the factory.

- "Tiexi Hydraulic Parts Factory" — incomplete technical qualifications; the hydraulic systems provided caused machine tool failures multiple times, but it was never held accountable.

Lin Wan looked at the report, tapping her fingers gently on the table: "Are these suppliers still supplying goods now?"

"Most of them still are," Zhang Lei said. "According to the in-transit orders we took over, in the next three months, the pending delivery contract amount for these 13 suppliers is still 18 million."

"Suspend all of them," Lin Wan said without hesitation. "Notify the procurement department to re-tender."

"But..." the procurement section chief retained from the Shenyang side hesitated, wanting to say more. "General Manager Lin, these suppliers have long-standing relationships, some have been cooperating for over a decade. If we suddenly cut them off, I'm afraid there will be trouble..."

"What kind of trouble?" Lin Wan asked.

The procurement section chief stammered: "It's just... it's hard to deal with in terms of interpersonal relationships. And some suppliers have... a bit of influence locally."

Lin Wan looked at him: "Section Chief Wang, I am telling you clearly now: from today on, Shenyang Machine Tool's procurement will only look at three things—quality, price, and delivery time. Nothing else will be considered."

What was bound to come, finally came.

Friday, July 21st, 7:30 AM.

It was the peak time for work, and outside the three main gates of the factory area, six white Jinbei vans appeared simultaneously.

The cars were parked very "deliberately"—not completely blocking the road, but just enough to prevent the factory's shuttle buses and large trucks from entering. Five or six people got out of each car, mostly young men in their twenties or thirties, wearing uniform black T-shirts, holding banners in their hands.

The banners were unfurled, white background with red characters, particularly glaring:

**"Xingchen crosses the river and destroys the bridge, Shenyang workers are left to starve!"**

**"Restore orders, protect our rice bowls!"**

**"Local enterprises don't take care of local people, where is the justice in that!"**

More than thirty people surrounded the entrance of the administrative building. They didn't make noise or cause a scene, just stood there like a silent wall.

The workers arriving for work were blocked outside and couldn't get in. Some wanted to argue, but were glared back by the young men in black: "Today we are only looking for Xingchen's leadership, this has nothing to do with our worker brothers. Everyone should go to work, don't get involved."

But with the gate blocked, how could they go to work?

A hundred people quickly gathered in the factory area. Some were watching the excitement, some were indignant, and more were just watching from the sidelines.

Director Liu from the factory director's office rushed into Lin Wan's temporary office: "General Manager Lin, something happened! People from Zhenhua Machinery are here, they are blocking the gate!"

Lin Wan stood in front of the window, looking at the crowd downstairs: "Did you call the police?"

"Yes," Director Liu said, wiping his sweat. "The police station said... said they would be here soon. But they've been saying that for half an hour now."

[part:gemini-3.0-flash]

He lowered his voice: "President Lin, that boss of Zhenhua, surnamed Wu, has... some connections locally. Even though his uncle has retired, his influence remains. The police station's side, I reckon it's..."

"Reckon it's what?" Lin Wan turned around.

"I reckon... they don't want to get involved, or don't dare to." Old Liu spoke the truth. "There have been similar incidents before; they all ended with mediation and eventually came to nothing. Given our factory's current situation, if we push too hard... I'm afraid something big will happen."

Lin Wan was silent for a few seconds, then said, "Notify President Zhao to have the technical team stay in the workshop today and not come out. Notify all middle-level cadres to come to the first-floor meeting room for a meeting."

"Then those people at the gate..."

"Let them block it." Lin Wan's voice was very cold. "I want to see just how long they can stay there."

At nine in the morning, outside the glass doors of the administrative building, the young men in black were still standing there. The weather was sweltering, and they began to get a bit restless.

Inside the building, the atmosphere in the meeting room was heavy.

Lin Wan sat in the main seat, looking at the several cadres left behind from the Shenyang side. "Tell me, what exactly is the deal with this Zhenhua Machinery?"

The Deputy Factory Director of Production, Wang Jianguo, sighed. "President Lin, this... is a long story. Zhenhua's boss, Wu Zhenhua, his uncle, Deputy Factory Director Wu, was in charge of the factory's logistics and procurement for over a decade. Zhenhua Machinery started up during that time, growing from a small workshop into a factory with over a hundred people now."

He paused. "The quality is poor, everyone knows that. But there was no choice; when Deputy Factory Director Wu was in office, who dared to say it wasn't good enough? Later, Deputy Factory Director Wu retired, but the network of connections remained. In recent years, the factory's performance hasn't been good, and even fewer people dared to touch these connected suppliers—touching them is like cutting off their livelihood; they'd fight you to the death."

"So you just kept putting up with it?" Lin Wan asked.

"What else could we do?" Wang Jianguo gave a bitter smile. "The factory could barely survive; it's better to avoid trouble than to go looking for it. Besides, these local suppliers also support many workers. If we really cut them off, those workers would cause trouble too."

As they were speaking, shouts came from downstairs:

"Leaders of Xingchen, come out!"

"Give us an explanation!"

"Otherwise, no one is leaving today!"

The voices grew louder, carrying a sense of threat.

Lin Wan stood up and walked to the window. Downstairs, the young men in black began banging on the glass doors. The security guards inside gripped their batons nervously, but they were vastly outnumbered.

"President Lin, how about... we agree to their demands for now?" someone suggested in a low voice. "Reinstate the orders to stabilize them first. We can deal with it slowly later..."

"No." Lin Wan said decisively. "If we agree to them today, there will be a second and third Zhenhua Machinery tomorrow. This supply chain will never be cleaned up."

She looked at Wang Jianguo. "Director Wang, you've been at the factory for over thirty years and have prestige. Go down and talk to them. Tell them: first, blocking the gate is illegal; if they don't disperse, we reserve the right to pursue legal action. Second, supplier selection is the enterprise's independent right of operation; Zhenhua Machinery was eliminated due to quality issues, which is in accordance with the contract. Third, if they leave now, we can choose not to hold them accountable for today's actions."

Wang Jianguo hesitated. "President Lin, this... if I say this, will they listen?"

"You go and say it first," Lin Wan said. "I'll be right behind you."

Wang Jianguo went down to negotiate for ten minutes and returned empty-handed.

"It's no use." He shook his head. "Wu Zhenhua himself didn't come; those who came are just his subordinates. They said they won't talk unless they see the top leader of Xingchen."

Lin Wan looked at her watch: 10:30 AM.

She walked to the mirror in her office and straightened her shirt collar. Then she said to her assistant, "Notify the broadcast room: at twelve noon, all employees are to gather at the open-air plaza in the old factory area. I'm going to hold a general meeting."

"President Lin, that's too dangerous!" the assistant said anxiously. "Those people are still downstairs..."

"It's precisely because they are there that we need to hold the meeting," Lin Wan said calmly. "Some things need to be said clearly in front of everyone."

At twelve noon, the sun was at its fiercest.

The open-air plaza of the old factory area—actually just a patch of concrete used for parking trucks and stacking materials—was packed with people. Over three thousand active employees, plus many retired workers, family members, and even nearby residents watching the commotion, crowded the plaza to the point where not a drop of water could trickle through.

The six Jinbei vans were still blocking the gate, but the people inside had also gotten out and mixed into the crowd.

A simple platform had been set up at the front of the plaza, using the rostrum from the factory's sports meets. When Lin Wan stepped onto the stage, the buzzing discussion below instantly subsided.

Everyone looked at this woman from the south—twenty-seven years old, not very tall, wearing a simple white shirt and black trousers, holding only a megaphone.

Lin Wan tested the megaphone, her voice echoing across the open plaza:

"Old Master Craftsmen, fellow workers, good afternoon."

Her voice was calm and clear, without a hint of trembling:

"I am Lin Wan, CEO of Xingchen Heavy Industry and Chairperson of Xingchen Shenyang Machine Tool. I have gathered everyone here today to announce three things—or rather, to define three red lines."

There was silence below.

"The first red line is the **Production Safety and Quality Red Line**."

Lin Wan brought up a projection—it was the quality inspection reports from the assembly workshop over the last few days. On the large screen, the red and green bar charts provided a sharp contrast: the product pass rate for Xingchen standards was 98.7%, while for products under the old Shenyang standards, it was only 82.3%.

"Everyone can understand these figures," Lin Wan said. "Where is the gap? It's not that our workers aren't good enough; it's that our standards are too low and our requirements are too lax."

She zoomed in on several photos: parts with dimensions exceeding tolerances, components with excessive assembly gaps, and records of customer complaints due to missed inspections.

"From today onwards, all products leaving the Shenyang Machine Tool factory must meet Xingchen's quality standards." Lin Wan's voice suddenly became stern. "This is not a discussion; it is a regulation. For those who fail to meet them, the person responsible will undergo off-the-job training until they qualify. Those who intentionally cause damage or engage in fraud—their labor contracts will be terminated, with no room for negotiation."

Someone in the crowd whispered, "What if the machines are old and the precision can't be achieved?"

"If the machines are old, renovate them; if they can't be renovated, phase them out," Lin Wan answered curtly. "But people cannot be 'old' in their thinking. The first military order we took on—a certain type of UAV landing gear component—requires a precision of 0.01 millimeters. With such an order, can we handle it using the old standards?"

No one answered.

"The second red line is the **Compliance Operation Red Line**."

The screen switched to a list of suppliers. Thirteen connected suppliers who had been removed were highlighted in red boxes. Among them, "Zhenhua Machinery Parts Factory" was at the top of the list.

In a corner of the plaza, the expressions of several young men in black changed.

"All procurement will be through open bidding," Lin Wan said emphatically. "Quality, price, and delivery time—whoever is best in these three areas wins the bid. All nepotistic connections will be severed."

She looked toward the crowd. "I know there are people from the removed suppliers among you. I also know that you came to block the gate today because someone told you to."

A stir went through the crowd.

"But I am telling you clearly now—" Lin Wan's voice spread across the entire field through the megaphone, "Zhenhua Machinery, due to its quality failure rate exceeding 30% for three consecutive years, has had its supplier qualification permanently revoked. This decision will not change."

She paused. "If you believe this decision is illegal, you can follow legal procedures. If the court rules that we are wrong, we will accept it. But until then, blocking the gate, making trouble, and making threats—it's useless."

"I have already taken photos and collected evidence of the six vehicles blocking the gate today." Lin Wan held up her phone. "It is now 12:20 PM. Before work starts at 2:00 PM, if the vehicles are still blocking the gate, we will report it to the police for 'disrupting the order of production and operation' and pursue the legal responsibility of the relevant personnel."

These words were very firm. The crowd below fell completely silent.

"The third red line is the **Personnel Fairness Red Line**."

Lin Wan switched the PPT to show a new institutional framework—the "Skill Level Assessment Management Measures."

"I know many Old Master Craftsmen dislike writing daily reports and filling out forms." She looked at Zhou Jianguo in the crowd. "I'm saying here today: if you don't want to write them, that's fine. But your skill and your contribution must be proven in other ways."

She explained in detail: "Starting next month, we will implement a 'Skill Level Assessment.' Regardless of age or years of service, we will only look at true ability. Lathe operators, milling machine operators, fitters, electricians... for each trade, there will be nine levels. The salary for the highest level will be benchmarked against the director level."

A buzz of discussion rose from the crowd.

"The head of the assessment panel will be the eighth-grade fitter you all know—Master Liu Jianguo." Lin Wan turned slightly, gesturing toward Liu Jianguo on the stage.

Liu Jianguo stood up and bowed to the crowd.

"The members of the assessment panel will be half technical experts from Xingchen and half Old Master Craftsmen from Shenyang," Lin Wan continued. "The assessment method: theory exams account for 30%, and practical skills assessments account for 70%. What will be tested? Exactly what you are best at—turning a high-precision shaft, milling a complex curved surface, assembling a machine tool..."

She raised her voice: "Those who pass the assessment will receive a salary increase of at least 30%. For the highest level, it can increase by 300%!"

"Whoosh—"

The crowd erupted.

300%! This meant that a common technician, if they reached the highest level, could have a monthly salary of over ten thousand! In Shenyang, this was a figure one wouldn't even dare to imagine.

"But the prerequisite is—" Lin Wan waited for the discussion to die down slightly, "you must truly have the ability. Those just idling through the days, relying on connections, or relying on seniority—that path won't work."

Final Words

Lin Wan turned off the projection and walked to the front of the stage. Under the scorching sun, fine beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, but her posture was ramrod straight.

"I know many people are waiting to see us fail," her voice suddenly softened. "Thinking that we, coming from the south, don't understand the Northeast, don't understand Shenyang Machine Tool, and don't understand you Old Master Craftsmen."

She paused, her gaze sweeping across the more than three thousand faces below:

"But I want to say—I do understand the glory of Shenyang Machine Tool."

"I've read in history books about how this factory was built in 1953 and produced the first lathe of New China."

"I've read in news reports about how you developed the first CNC milling machine in 1978, breaking the foreign monopoly."

"In the 1990s, when your machine tools were exported to more than twenty countries and became a national hallmark, I was proud of you."

Below, the eyes of many old workers turned red.

"The glory of this factory wasn't built by writing summaries, nor was it maintained through connections." Lin Wan's voice carried a hint of a choke. "It was forged through one solid machine after another, through pairs of hands covered in calluses, through the lifeblood of generation after generation of Old Master Craftsmen!"

She took a deep breath. "We understand this principle."

"And you," she looked at the crowd, "understand it even better."

Silence.

A silence that lasted for ten seconds.

Then, Liu Jianguo was the first to raise his hand and start clapping.

The applause was solitary at first, but soon, a second, a third... a tenth, a hundredth... the applause spread across the plaza like a rolling snowball.

It wasn't enthusiastic, excited applause, but heavy, powerful, rhythmic applause.

Like a hammer striking an anvil.

Like a machine tool cutting through steel.

Like the heavy and arduous heartbeat of this old factory.

1:50 PM.

At the factory gate, the six Jinbei vans started up silently and slowly drove away.

Before getting into the vehicles, one of the young men in black looked back at the administrative building. Behind the window upstairs, Lin Wan stood there, quietly watching them leave.

There was no smile of victory, no relief of a burden lifted.

Only calmness.

She knew that the three red lines drawn today were only the beginning. The true integration and the true change had only just begun.

But at least today, at this July noon, on the plaza of this old factory area, she had let everyone see—

The rules had been established.

And only where rules are established can hope grow.