That Year He Touched the Bottom of the World

Zhang Zhisheng has been repairing cars for forty years. I didn't get promoted as an engineer, I didn't become a workshop director, and no one even remembered to hold a farewell party on the day I retired. He patted the old milling machine from 1963, turned around and left. Then his hand changed. When he comes into contact with machinery, he can "feel" things that others cannot see - which axis has hidden damage, which gear has stolen material, which production line is slowly committing suicide. When exposed to well-operated machines, those old cold legs, presbyopia, and forty years of strain are smoothed away little by little. The factory said that Lao opened his eyes. Lao Zhang said: "It's just the feel." The touch allowed him to see clearly the flaws in an engine, the hidden dangers in a production line, and the flaws in an industry - it also allowed him to see clearly that some people were worse than scrapped parts. From a bicycle stall to the board of directors, from a wrench to an order of 100 million, he has never studied an MBA or read a financial report. He has used his craftsmanship that has not been discounted for 40 years and the saying "cars don't lie" to find a way in the meat grinder of business war, capital and stock market. But the feel doesn't come for free. The rust marks will fade, the palms will ache, and the metallic lines will crawl from the tiger's mouth to the fingertips. He knew he was borrowing time - something he would have to pay back sooner or later. It doesn't matter. "I've been repairing cars all my life, and I've never seen a car run faster with a film. The chassis is stable, and everything else is easy to say." ——A retired car repairman, with his hands, touches the chassis of the world.