Everyone said that Lin Zhouzhu could not support Qingwu Cotton Mill.
Foreigners said women were in charge of factories. Her uncle banged the table at the shareholders' meeting and said women could not be named in the Lin family's property. The Japanese spread military maps on her table. Three months later, she and her people were buried at the bottom of the Suzhou River.
She only did three things.
Go through the ledgers, check old letters, slap the articles of association on the table.
Two thousand pieces of cotton armor, she stared at the seams with her own hands, pricking her fingers with needles and leaving blood on the cloth.
When her younger brother wanted to join the army, she slapped him in the face at the train station. After the slap, she stuffed her military boots into his arms - you go, I'll guard the chimney.
Later, half of the factory was bombed, and she worked on a sewing machine in the basement for four years.
Each batch of cloth sent out has the same name embroidered on it.
She didn't know if the man was still alive.
But the lights must be on.
He came to see the sycamore tree for her dead eldest brother.
Came once, and again.
Teach her that a thread is a life.
She tells him to come back alive.
Talking at Suzhou River at night, he said: "When you come back from the war, you owe me a bowl of wontons."
Later he went to war.
Her news is a piece of cloth sent out, his news is no news.
She puts a lantern in the river every Mid-Autumn Festival.
Two words: lamp paper.
Someone asked her who she was waiting for.
She said: No one is waiting, the machine is still running.
The chimney was still smoking, and she was still stepping on the sewing machine under the lamp.
I don't know when that person will come back.
But she always remembered the account for that bowl of wontons.
Purpose: Industry to save the country