Now that he was here, he might as well make the best of it.
There was no way out anyway, so Shen Le settled down and looked around:
Inside the factory building, supported by tall crossbeams, stood row upon row of machines, each half a person's height or a full person's height. Shen Le didn't recognize most of them. With his limited knowledge, they were probably machine tools, lathes, machine tools, and lathes...
But every machine looked small and old. They certainly weren't computerized, and their power probably wasn't very high. They wouldn't be able to process particularly large or complicated workpieces.
Still, every one of them had been maintained with great care. The beds, tool rests, and tools were all polished until they gleamed, without a trace of oil or grime.
Some kind of event was apparently being held today. At one end of the factory, an open space had been cleared, and a long red banner had been hung up.
Blocked by the crowd, Shen Le rose onto his toes to get a look. He stretched his neck almost to the breaking point, but could only make out the words "Commendation Meeting."
He edged a few steps closer for a better view and saw a group of young men and women laughing and cheering as they pushed a young man and woman forward.
The young man was the "Ai Jun" Shen Le had seen earlier. He didn't recognize the young woman, but she stood tall, her eyes bright with vitality. She inspired an instant fondness.
Both of them wore identical red sashes, each with a huge cloth flower pinned to the middle.
One wore an "Advanced Producer" medal, the other a "Labor Model" medal. They stood side by side.
As soon as they were in place, the young people around them began shouting one after another:
"Say a few words!"
"Say a few words!"
"Say a few words—"
The young man and woman exchanged a look, their gazes lingering as they politely deferred to each other. They exchanged glances for a while, until the whistles from below nearly brought down the roof. At last, Ai Jun coughed and, bracing himself, began to speak:
"Um... It's a great honor to be named an advanced producer... It's the factory's recognition of me, and I couldn't have done it without my master's training and guidance... I'll keep working hard and do my part to build our country..."
He stumbled through a few sentences. The more he spoke, the redder his face became, and the more sweat beaded on his forehead.
Seeing the factory director, the Party secretary, and his own master standing nearby with smiles on their faces, he somehow found the courage. He reached into his work-clothes pocket and pulled out an Ink Marker, holding it out to the young woman in both hands.
"Chang Hong, I like you! Will you marry me, so we can work together, make progress together, and build socialist New China together?"
That Ink Marker!
The very one that had ended up in his hands, the one he was repairing now!
Shen Le was so excited he was about to step closer for a better look. The next moment, the entire factory fell silent for a beat. Then applause, stomping, laughter, and whistles erupted all at once:
"Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!"
Chang Hong looked at the young man, her expression half delighted, half coy. She didn't say yes, but she didn't say no either. She lowered her head slightly, her lips moving.
The crowd was making too much noise. Only because Shen Le had squeezed through and stood so close to them could he hear what the young woman said:
"If you want to marry me, your skills will have to catch up with mine~~~"
Shen Le couldn't help laughing.
He had seen clearly that the "Advanced Producer" medal on Ai Jun's chest had been awarded by the factory itself, while the Labor Model medal on Chang Hong's chest was a regional-level award.
In other words, Ai Jun's Advanced Producer award probably carried less weight than Chang Hong's Labor Model award. No wonder she wasn't impressed and had made "your skills have to catch up with mine" a condition.
Good for her! That was the spirit! Women could hold up half the sky. A woman worker who wanted to grow and improve alongside her partner ought to have that kind of confidence!
Hearing this, Ai Jun seemed to relax instead of getting nervous. He smiled faintly, then brought his right hand out from beneath the Ink Marker. In it was the Lead Weight, which had been tucked underneath the whole time and attached to the ink line.
Set into the top of the Lead Weight was a three-layer Devil's Work Ball. As his hand shifted, its inner layers spun gently with a soft whir.
Chang Hong's eyes lit up.
She looked at the young man before her in a whole new light. Shy, but without backing down, she nodded.
The light and shadows shifted before his eyes. When they brightened again, Shen Le was back at the worktable in the Old Mansion. His mind was still immersed in the love story he had just witnessed. His smile faded, and he couldn't help letting out a long sigh.
Sigh...
Shen Le sighed again. The Ink Marker's original owners, that old couple, must have loved each other very, very much...
But their child—at least, he assumed it was their child—was now middle-aged. Though the two clearly loved each other, they could still quarrel over the smallest things.
It was upsetting even to watch. How could the old couple rest easy, knowing this from beyond the grave—or, if their spirits lived on in the Ink Marker, how could they possibly be at peace?
Before his sigh had even finished, he felt a weight on his right arm. Little Puppet jumped onto it, hooked her control panel around his arm, and swung back and forth as she looked up at him.
"What's wrong? What's wrong? Why did you suddenly zone out? I called you so many times!"
"Nothing..."
Shen Le freed the little one from his arm and patted her head. Had he really been spacing out for that long?
So when he'd been drawn into the memory from the Copper Fragment, he'd just looked like he was zoning out to anyone else?
Then next time, he'd have to find somewhere safe and quiet. He didn't want to come out of a memory only to discover he'd been taken to the hospital.
"Next time I zone out like that, just leave me alone. Be good and go play outside." He picked up Little Puppet, carried her to the door, then went back to working on the Ink Marker itself.
He had already washed it with a soft cloth and clean water. Now he carefully cleaned it again with detergent, trying to remove every last bit of grime. He picked it up and examined it closely under a flashlight. Some places were still dirty.
Sigh... How am I supposed to clean out the years of grime in these cracks in the wood?
On closer inspection, some of the old grime in the narrow cracks was ink, while some came from years of oil and sludge soaking into the wood. Clean water and detergent couldn't wash away stains like these. He could scrape inside with a small chisel, but that would take away the grime along with the surrounding wood...
That would do too much damage.
Cultural relic restoration was all about preserving as much as possible and damaging as little as possible.
If possible, even the verdigris on bronze artifacts and rust on iron artifacts had to be preserved as much as possible, without damaging the objects themselves or worsening the damage—
After all, they were cultural relics. The traces of corrosion on them also recorded the years they had passed through and everything they had experienced before being excavated, restored, and displayed.
Had they lain buried in the earth?
Or been submerged in a lake or the sea?
Had they been buried in a tomb and placed in a coffin, sinking into the mud as the coffin rotted away, until they stuck together with all kinds of things nearby?
Or had they been sealed in an underground palace, perfectly preserved from beginning to end, only to begin oxidizing rapidly the instant the palace was opened?
Preserving as many of their traces as possible, including the marks left by the corrosion of time, and presenting them to viewers and researchers—that was part of a cultural relic restorer's duty, wasn't it?