Chapter 337 - 231: A Crying Child Gets Milk (Part 2)

Chapter 337: Chapter 231: A Crying Child Gets Milk (Part 2)

An old model worker from the First Textile Mill sat beside him. His hair was gray, and he wore a crisp worker’s uniform, sitting ramrod straight. Seeing Zhao Wendong’s posture, he couldn’t help but nudge him with his elbow and whisper a reminder, "Young man, sit up straight. The leaders are all up front. Show some decorum!"

Zhao Wendong lifted his eyelids and quirked the corner of his mouth. His voice was neither loud nor soft, just enough for the few people nearby to hear. "Uncle, what’s the rush? We’re getting an award, not standing trial. Can’t a guy sit comfortably?"

With that, he leaned back even further into his chair, making the old man beside him sigh in exasperation and turn away. To the old man, it was clear: this "model worker," Zhao Wendong, had only gotten the title because of the Elder’s calligraphy. It was all pure luck, with nothing to do with actual ability. And this was the impression most people who didn’t know Zhao Wendong had of him now.

"All rise for the national anthem!"

Everyone rose at the command. The assembly began with the majestic national anthem. Once the song was over, the crowd sat down. Special Commissioner Wei picked up the microphone and began the first speech, his voice booming. The content was nothing out of the ordinary: praising the exemplary, encouraging everyone to keep working hard, to produce more grain and steel for the country, and to make greater contributions. His tone was rousing and inspiring, and the audience below applauded periodically, their claps uniform and loud.

Zhao Wendong clapped along, though he wasn’t really listening. He went through the large motions of clapping but made sure his palms never connected to make a sound. It was his first time attending such a solemn assembly, yet he felt no excitement, only a profound sense of boredom. ’This is taking forever.’ If he weren’t hoping to get something out of it, he would have thought nothing of skipping the whole affair.

After what felt like an eternity of going through the motions of clapping, the leaders’ speeches finally ended. Next came the reading of the list of this year’s Model Worker award recipients. The one reading the list was a leader from the regional labor union. His voice was solemn and deep. The very first name he called was Zhao Wendong.

"Comrade Zhao Wendong, captain of the militia in Dragon King Pond Village, Qianjin Commune! During a famine year with insufficient grain, he used his ingenuity to find an opportunity. He dared to challenge the great sea and succeeded in a single voyage, bringing in a haul of over four thousand jin! He achieved a new breakthrough in offshore production capacity and even received encouragement from the higher-ups. Let us once again give a warm round of applause to welcome the man who embodies ’Man Can Conquer Nature,’ Zhao Wendong!"

CLAP CLAP CLAP—!

The hall erupted in thunderous applause. Zhao Wendong, wearing his tattered cotton-padded jacket with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, ambled onto the stage. Four more names were called. With each name, another wave of enthusiastic applause swept the audience. Each model worker whose name was called would stand up excitedly, straighten their clothes, and walk briskly onto the stage to stand beside Zhao Wendong.

Then came the presentation of the medals, certificates, and prizes. The other recipients all bowed deeply to the leaders, murmuring things like, "Thank you, leaders. Thank you, organization," their faces filled with honor and humility. Only Zhao Wendong was busy carefully examining his award and prizes, which drew a ripple of laughter from many in the audience.

The model worker medal was made of bronze. On the front, the words "Model Worker" were inscribed in large, red-lacquered characters, flanked by patterns of a gear and wheat sheaves. It was attached to a bright red silk ribbon and looked quite handsome when worn on the chest. The certificate had a hard cardboard cover with gold-stamped lettering. While the others held theirs reverently to their chests, Zhao Wendong just dangled his casually from his hand.

The prizes were an enamel mug printed with the red-lacquered words "Model Worker" and a white towel—both practical items for the era. After the awards were all handed out, the other recipients left the stage, but Zhao Wendong was asked to stay behind to give a speech.

He carefully placed his prizes on the table, then leaned toward the microphone, putting on a simple, goofy look.

"The region offered to prepare a script for me, but I’m just a big ol’ country bumpkin. I can barely even read my own name, so what’s the use of a script? They asked me to share my thoughts, but I don’t know what to say. So, I’ll just speak from the heart."

Zhao Wendong didn’t read word-for-word from a script. There were no thank yous to the organization, no promises to "stay true to the original mission" or "continue to strive." No endless clichés. He just stood there on the stage, leaning casually, his expression and tone just like he was chatting with folks back in the village—direct and down-to-earth. This, unexpectedly, won everyone over. Thunderous applause immediately erupted.

"I’m not educated and don’t know any fancy words, so I’ll just say a couple of honest things."

Zhao Wendong’s voice, clear and strong, carried through the microphone. The auditorium fell silent in an instant. All eyes were on him.

"The reason I got this Model Worker award isn’t because I’m so amazing. It’s because I was starving and had no other choice. I went out to sea to take a gamble, and I got lucky and ran into a huge school of fish. I never expected that the Elder would eat my fish and even give me a piece of calligraphy. I still feel like I’m dreaming every day. Since it’s come to this, what else can I do? I’ll definitely work my butt off from now on, go out to sea as much as I can, catch more fish, and live up to the Elder’s expectations."

CLAP CLAP CLAP—!

An even more enthusiastic round of applause erupted, but many people started to feel a little anxious for Zhao Wendong. ’He got lucky and found a school of fish before,’ they thought. ’But now that he’s famous, what’s he going to do in the future?’

"In the future, I won’t get a big head or throw my weight around just because I got this medal. I’ll keep doing what I’m supposed to do: take everyone out to sea more often, catch more fish, and make our lives better and better. That’s how I’ll be worthy of the ’Model Worker’ title the region gave me, and the ’Man Can Conquer Nature’ calligraphy the Elder gave me!"

Once the applause died down, Zhao Wendong’s tone shifted.

"But... the one boat our production team has is out of gasoline. The engine is broken, and the hull is damaged. I can’t go out to sea even if I want to. I’m really worried! Things are tough in the village. If anyone can help me, help our production team, I’ll thank their ancestors for eight generations."