An Old Model Worker

-by Ye Dachun

From the day he became an apprenti ce until the days preceding his retirement, Lao Mo fed coal to the boiler, for almost forty years. He made the boiler room his first home and seldom took a day off, so his wife deserted him and his daughter did badly at school until she had to drop out, while his son, who was left without guidance, misbehaved and finally ended up in jail.

Lao Mo, though, became a Model Worker of the province, thanks to his devotion to the boiler. His certificates of merit inscribed on boards and in frames covered the walls in his home. His numerous medals of merit crowded the walls of his cupboard behind its glass door. Based on an eight-hour day, somebody added up his unspent holidays and overtime and found that Lao Mo had rendered more than twenty years of extra service.

Shortly before his fortieth anniversary as a boiler feeder, it was rumored that the factory was going bankrupt and would soon be sold to a business owner. The anxious Lao Mo became worried and restless. If he had not been tied to the boiler, he would have gone to his co-workers to find out what was going on days ago. But he was a man with a cool head full of ideas. He knew that the boiler could not operate without him and that the factory would come to a halt without the boiler. If the boiler exploded, it might even cause deaths. Furthermore, he was a Model Worker of the province who could not lower himself to the level of the common workers. “Whatever happens, I should have confidence in the government and the local leadership. I should only help, not meddle.”

Then one day the factory director, who had not shown up for a long time, unexpectedly came into the boiler room, looking wan and sallow. Offering a cigarette to the exhausted old worker covered with black sweat, the factory director felt grieved and guilty.

“Lao Mo, please stop feeding coal to the boiler from today on,” he said slowly. “Take a good rest yourself.” Then he wrote a few lines on the cigarette box and gave it to Lao Mo. “From tomorrow on, the state-owned factory will become a private business. Today is also my last day as the factory director. I haven’t really cared for your well-being throughout the past years. I owe you so much at the personal level. This is also the last time I am exercising my power as factory director. I am granting you a Model Worker subsidy. Please go and get your money without delay.”

La Mo was trembling when he received the thin slip. It showed a sum that was neither big nor small, but enough for his son to start a small business when he came out of prison. As soon as the factory director turned and left, Lao Mo threw it into the fire. “I not only shall share happiness with others, but mishaps as well. Now that the factory is closing down, how could I have the face to go and cash the Model Worker subsidy?”

Lao Mo stopped the fire in the boiler, but he still stayed by the boiler around the clock, for he feared that infuriated workers would do foolish things – they might steal the parts or smash it and sell it as scrap.

It is hard to know people’s hearts when catastrophes are befalling them. In such crises, every character shows his or her true colors. Indeed, in the small hours of one night, several shadows sneaked into his boiler room, waking him up.

“What do you want?” he shouted in a stern voice.

“None of your business. Be a smart man and just go on sleeping,” said one shadow. “Otherwise, we’ll have to tie you up!”

“Don’t you dare to lay your hands on the boiler!” Lao Mo roared in rage. “I’ve been staying with the boiler for so many years and I love it more than my wife. If you dare to smash it, don’t blame me for being rude!” The furious old man swung his sledgehammer in the air, scaring all the shadows away.

After the new factory director assumed office, one way or another, he learned of Lao Mo’s heroic deeds, for which he awarded him a big sum of money. When Lao Mo received it, he gave it to the needy unemployed workers and his sick workmates. One or more of those who benefited were among the shadows that had wanted to smash the boiler.

Lao Mo attended to the boiler as before, still as self-motivated, still working hard and overtime. He just felt dejected – a feeling beyond description – when he thought that in the past he was contributing to the state but that now everything he did was for an individual owner. Though he was much better paid than when the factory was government-owned and his benefits had also improved, he always found an indescribable cloud of melancholy clinging in his mind. As it weighed on him, he would sigh and mumble to his old pal, the boiler, and weep sometimes.

One evening, the new factory director, who took pride in his success, strolled by the boiler and was surprised to see the sweaty Lao Mo covered with coal dust from head to foot. “Why don’t you wear your boiler suit and your gauze mask and gloves?” he asked. “And why didn’t you go and get an electric fan?”

“I’m an uncouth worker. Not that delicate!” chuckled Lao Mo. “Does a boiler man really need any of these? I’ve been working like this for forty years. I’m quite used to it.”

“No. That won’t do. The new factory has its new rules. Our labor laws must be followed strictly. The boiler room is no exception. It must not drag down the whole factory,” said the new factory director. “If I see you working bare backed or without wearing a mask again tomorrow, you will lose your bonus and I will suspend you from work as well.”

Lao Mo was dumbfounded.

“How many people work in the boiler room?” the new director continued.

“Only me,” said Lao Mo.

The factory director was stupefied. “I will send two more people here tomorrow”, he then said.

Sweeping his hand, Lao Mo said, “Don’t send anyone here. I can look after the boiler all by myself. I have been doing this myself for so many years -”

“Nonsense!” The new director became angry now. “You work overtime day after day, year after year, without even taking a day off on festivals and holidays. It’s against the Labor Act. Do you want to get me into legal trouble or topple me?”

Lao Mo felt a shiver in his heart, uncontrollable tears trickling down his old cheeks.

- translated by Harry J. Huang

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