Chang Jinzhong arrived at the machinery factory at 6:30 this morning. He had tossed and turned last night, unable to sleep, with his mind fully occupied by that diminutive device not even half a meter big.
He one moment felt confident that Old Rongzi would handle it without a problem, and the next, he doubted the contraption just by looking at it—corn isn't rice or wheat; can it really be so easy to thresh with a machine?
So, he came to the factory early in the morning, anxiously waiting.
In the meantime, he felt some resentment—why couldn't the cafeteria just prepare some corn cobs? Then he would have known the outcome last night!
Chang Jinzhong wandered around the factory, irritable. Nothing looked right to him, and though he wanted to find fault, he felt unjustified in doing so. He swallowed his words and held it all in.
He had been wandering around for quite a while before he saw Rong Zhiguo, with a cigarette in his mouth, nonchalantly biking towards the workshop.
