boyutpedia Chapter 72 Help
Chapter 72 Help
In the early morning, a thin layer of white mist still covered the sky over Hong Kong, but the Hong Kong docks were already bustling with people, and the whistles of cargo ships echoed far and wide in the morning mist.
Lin Zhou, unusually, didn't sleep in and got up early. After washing up, he took out a thick kraft paper envelope from the drawer in his study. As he ran his fingertips across the envelope, he could feel the sharp edges of the drawings inside—this was the result of his all-night work, finally finalizing all the details in the early hours of the morning.
He went to the living room and made a phone call to Lou Zhenhua's house. A few minutes later, the call was answered by the maid. Lin Zhou asked her to call Lou Zhenhua over to answer the phone. A few minutes later, Lou Zhenhua's slightly hoarse voice came through the receiver. He had obviously just woken up and was still a little sleepy.
"Ah Zhou? Calling so early, is there some progress?" Lou Zhenhua's tone was filled with barely concealed urgency. These days, the steel mill's predicament weighed heavily on his mind like a boulder. Bank loans were pressing for repayment, factory orders were plummeting, raw material prices were rising, and workers' wages were almost unpaid. The factory was in a state of panic, and even he himself was on the verge of collapse. Moreover, he had come from Beijing in a hurry and hadn't brought much capital with him.
"Uncle Lou, things are looking promising." Lin Zhou's voice was steady and strong, carrying a reassuring certainty. "Are you free now? I'd like to go to the factory right now so we can talk in person. There are some things I need to show you and Brother Lou."
"Convenient! So convenient!" Lou Zhenhua immediately perked up, his speech quickening. "I'll go to the factory and wait for you. Jianjun is there too; we'll be waiting for you in the office!"
After hanging up the phone, Lin Zhou tucked the envelope into his pocket, grabbed his coat, draped it over his shoulders, and hurried downstairs. The streets were still quiet in the early morning, with only a few breakfast stalls already open. The rising steam mixed with the aroma of oil wafted through the air, and vendors in short-sleeved shirts and trousers called out their wares, their voices carrying a strong Minnan flavor. Occasionally, a few bicycles would pass by, their bells breaking the silence, and in the distance, the clanging of trams echoed, creating a unique atmosphere reminiscent of a Hong Kong morning in the 60s.
The Kowloon Industrial Zone wasn't too far from where Lin Zhou lived. Since he had gotten up so early that day and hadn't notified his driver to come over, he hailed a taxi and gave them his address. The driver lightly pressed the accelerator, and the taxi nimbly weaved through the streets, leaving the crowds on both sides behind. The buildings along the way changed from residential buildings to low-rise factories, and the smell in the air changed from the aroma of food to a faint smell of coal smoke and machine oil—the unique odor of the industrial zone.
More than half an hour later, the taxi stopped at the entrance of the steel rolling mill. Two large, rusty iron gates were wide open, with a wooden sign that read "Lou's Steel Rolling Mill" hanging beside them. Much of the paint had peeled off, making it look rather dilapidated. The factory was quiet, with only a few windows letting in a sliver of light and the occasional sporadic sounds of machinery. It was a far cry from its usual bustling atmosphere.
Lou Zhenhua and Lou Jianjun were already waiting at the door, their faces showing fatigue, but their eyes were full of anticipation. Seeing Lin Zhou get out of the car, Lou Zhenhua immediately went to greet him, tightly grasping his hand: "A-Zhou, we've been waiting for you!"
Lou Jianjun also stepped forward, his face showing some urgency. His lips moved as if he had a lot to say, but he held it back.
"Uncle Lou, Brother Lou, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting." Lin Zhou nodded with a smile, his gaze sweeping over their haggard faces, a touch of emotion welling up inside him. Was this still the same Lou Bancheng who had boasted to him when he first arrived in Hong Kong? He had changed so much in just over a year. In his previous life, he had seen in a TV drama that Lou Xiao'e had remarried; it must have been a marriage of convenience for this situation. In late 1960s Hong Kong, the manufacturing industry was struggling, and it was already quite remarkable that the Lou family had managed to survive until now.
"Come on, let's go inside the office to talk." Lou Zhenhua led Lin Zhou inside. The cement floor was uneven, and there were piles of rusty steel and discarded parts along the roadside, making it look somewhat messy. After passing through several idle factory buildings, they arrived at a two-story building, where the office was located upstairs.
The office was simply furnished: an old wooden desk, a few chairs, and a metal filing cabinet in the corner, the labels on the cabinet doors already yellowed. A cup of cold tea sat on the desk, probably just brewed by Lou Zhenhua, still steaming.
As soon as they sat down, Lou Jianjun couldn't hold back any longer. He leaned forward and said urgently, "A-Zhou, you said last night that you would go back and think of a solution. What solution is it? Tell me quickly. Our factory really can't afford to delay any longer. If we don't come up with a solution soon, we won't be able to pay next month's wages. The workers are starting to lose morale."
As he spoke, an anxious look appeared on his face, and his hands unconsciously clenched into fists. These days, he had been at the factory every day, watching the machines sit idle and the workers sigh and complain. He was more anxious than anyone else, but he was completely helpless.
Seeing his son's anxious expression, Lou Zhenhua glared at him, his tone slightly reproachful: "What's the rush? A-Zhou just sat down, let him have some water and catch his breath first." Turning to Lin Zhou, his tone softened, filled with apology, "A-Zhou, don't mind him, Jianjun was just confused. You know the situation at the factory, it's really..."
"Uncle Lou, I understand." Lin Zhou waved his hand, not caring. "I understand Brother Lou's feelings. The steel mill is like your life's work. Anyone would be anxious." He picked up the iced tea on the table and took a sip. The cool tea flowed down his throat, dispelling the morning chill and making his mind clearer.
Setting down his teacup, Lin Zhou took out the brown paper envelope from his pocket, placed it on the table, and slowly pushed it towards Lou Zhenhua and Lou Jianjun: "Uncle Lou, Brother Lou, this is the solution I came up with."
Lou Zhenhua and Lou Jianjun exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with curiosity. Lou Zhenhua reached for the envelope and carefully opened it. Inside was a thick stack of blueprints and written materials. He first pulled out the top blueprint, unfolded it on the table, and saw a strangely shaped machine drawn on it, with clear lines and the names and dimensions of each component labeled.
"This is..." Lou Zhenhua frowned, carefully examining the blueprints, becoming increasingly puzzled. "A-Zhou, what kind of machine is this? I've never seen it before!"
Lou Jianjun also came over, staring blankly at the machine on the blueprints: "This thing doesn't look very big, what's it used for? What does it have to do with our steel rolling mill?"
Seeing the two people's astonished expressions, Lin Zhou smiled slightly and slowly said, "This is called a small household lawnmower."
"A lawnmower?" Lou Zhenhua and Lou Jianjun repeated in unison, their faces filled with even greater confusion. In Hong Kong in the 60s, most families either lived in cramped tenement buildings or simple shacks; very few had yards, let alone needed specialized machines for mowing lawns. They simply couldn't understand what market such a machine could have.
"Ah Zhou, I'm not trying to discourage you," Lou Zhenhua said hesitantly, "You know the situation in Hong Kong. Ordinary families don't have that much grass to cut. Even wealthy families with gardens hire people to cut it with sickles. They don't need a machine like this. Will this thing even sell?"
Lou Jianjun nodded in agreement: "Yes, this machine looks quite complicated, and the cost of making it must be high. Who would waste money buying such an impractical thing?"