After I Lost My Iron Rice Bowl at the State-Owned Textile Mill

The state-owned textile mill of 1970 stood in a corner of the city, like a vast, sturdy fortress, carrying the dreams and livelihoods of countless people. Its towering chimneys belched smoke day and night, as if telling the sky of the bustle and vitality within. In the factory grounds, the roar of machinery was deafening, like an industrial symphony that never ended, playing the tune of the times. 147. Lin Weiguo, an ordinary worker who had spent more than a decade at the state-owned textile mill, had long since grown accustomed to everything there. Every morning, he would ride his battered bicycle through the bustling streets...