That afternoon, Li Lianping taught us the factory's broadcast exercises, the same kind of routine performed by middle-school students today.
Anyone who had attended middle school knew how to do them. But Jin Sanling and several others who had only finished primary school—or couldn't read or write at all—had no idea how to follow the movements. Teaching them proved surprisingly difficult. Even when the workday ended, they still hadn't learned the routine.
I heard that from then on, all new employees who had been at the factory for less than a month would have to undergo military-style training and do these exercises every morning. As long as they weren't completely hopeless, everyone would eventually learn.
When the afternoon shift-ending bell rang, everyone let out a long sigh of relief.
My first day at Liangguang Factory was over. Tomorrow, I would officially begin work.
I had no idea what awaited me.
Of the sixteen girls recruited that day, the production department needed fourteen, while the injection-molding department needed only two.
I didn't really understand the difference between the two departments. But a girl named Ke Lanlan and I were assigned to injection molding.
The injection-molding workers lived in a different dormitory from Lijuan. Their rooms were on the fifth floor of the building that housed the cafeteria. A staircase near the cafeteria entrance led directly upstairs. Inside, the beds were arranged just like those in Lijuan's dormitory.
The entire fifth floor was occupied by female injection-molding workers. Rooms 501 through 505 housed the A shift, while rooms 506 through 510 belonged to the B shift.
Ke Lanlan was assigned to Room 502, the A shift, which was currently working days.
I was assigned to Room 506, the B shift, which was on nights.
When I entered the room, the women were all getting up to eat. I put my belongings on the upper bunk of the second bed from the left, then picked up my bowl and chopsticks and headed to the cafeteria.
Lijuan was delighted when she heard I had been assigned to injection molding.
She explained that although the department smelled worse than the others, workers received an extra one yuan a day as a health allowance. They also had to work night shifts, but during the fifteen nights each month, they received an additional two yuan per night. And night-shift workers were given a one-yuan supper ticket as well.
All told, injection-molding workers earned considerably more than those in the production department.
When the girls in Lijuan's workshop heard where I'd been assigned, they all said I was incredibly lucky.
The night shift began at eight. At 7:25, I joined more than sixty female workers and six male technicians at the designated assembly area for the injection-molding department's daily training.
Our night-shift team leader, Zhang Pei, led us through the turns, the factory anthem, and the slogans.
He looked about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, dark-skinned and powerfully built.
Because I wasn't wearing a factory uniform yet, I stood out. When he called my name during roll call, he told a female worker named Wu Shaofen to look after me.
As it happened, Wu Shaofen slept in the bunk directly below mine. She had a fair, delicate face and a sweet smile.
After Zhang Pei finished giving his instructions, the department supervisor, Section Chief Ma, addressed us.
He was a small, thin man, no more than five foot five, and about the same age as Zhang Pei. He spoke Mandarin with a strong rural Hunan accent. He stood as straight as he could, trying to project an air of solemn authority, as though no one could possibly challenge him.
Five minutes before eight, we entered the injection-molding workshop right on schedule.
Before I even stepped inside, a sharp, unpleasant plastic smell hit my nose. It was so overpowering that I nearly threw up the food I'd eaten earlier.
Wu Shaofen told me I'd get used to it.
She pointed out the thirty-eight injection-molding machines arranged in neat rows throughout the workshop. When the day-shift workers saw us arrive, they got up and moved toward a central area filled with long tables and benches.
“They're going to trim the excess plastic,” Wu Shaofen explained.
She led me to a machine and showed me where to sit.
There were more than 130 people in the injection-molding department. Apart from twelve male technicians, the two shift leaders, and Section Chief Ma, nearly everyone was a woman.
All the female workers in the department had one common job title: pi gong.
Strangely, the character pi was not pronounced like the pi in pijiu, or beer. Here, it was pronounced like the bie in biesan, meaning a street thug.
Every so often, a material handler came by to feed the machines with different kinds of tiny plastic pellets and colored dyes.
Our job as pi gong workers was to remove the plastic parts that came out of the machines, sort them, and trim away any excess plastic along the edges. In workshop slang, those rough edges were called pifeng.
Wu Shaofen wrapped medical tape around my right thumb and index finger. Then she handed me a small razor blade with transparent tape wound around it for a grip.
That was how my life as an injection-molding worker began.
When the little plastic parts emerged from the machines, they looked like fruit growing along the branches of a tree.
Most were black, though I could see other machines producing parts in different colors. They were surprisingly cute.
Some of these little “fruits” fell off their branches by themselves. Others had to be plucked off by hand.
We sorted the finished pieces into separate containers and tossed the plastic branches into a large plastic basket.
Only later did I learn that these branches were called shui kou liao, or sprue material. They could be recycled and used again.
The freshly molded parts were scalding hot, so we had to wait before removing them.
Sometimes, because a machine malfunctioned or for some other reason, the plastic branches wouldn't come out properly. Then we had to reach inside the machine to retrieve them.
Apart from the heat, the work didn't seem particularly dangerous.
Because I had no experience, however, I kept burning my hands.
The most annoying task was trimming the excess plastic.
At first, I thought it was rather fun. But after doing it for a long time, my right thumb and index finger began to ache from holding the little blade.
I looked at Wu Shaofen's right hand. The skin was split in several places, and patches of it had peeled away. Her hands were rougher than my mother's.
“Does it ever bleed?” I asked.
She smiled.
“It did at first. The skin there is delicate. But after a while, you get used to it.”
With little else to do, we chatted as we worked.
That's when I learned that her boyfriend was in our shift too. His name was Lu Meng, and he worked as a material handler. Sometimes he came over to replenish the machines.
Just then, Lu Meng appeared carrying a bag of plastic pellets.
He had thick eyebrows, large eyes, and a very handsome face.
He smiled warmly at me, then secretly slipped a handful of sunflower seeds to Wu Shaofen.
Gradually, my nose grew accustomed to the plastic smell, and my hands became more practiced at the work.
Time no longer seemed quite so unbearable.
At eleven-thirty, each of us received a supper ticket worth one yuan. It could be exchanged for a bowl of rice noodles in broth.
Since the injection-molding machines couldn't be stopped, Wu Shaofen and I took turns going to eat. I went first, gulped down my noodles as quickly as I could, then hurried back so she could take her turn.
Otherwise, the parts would pile up on the table in front of the machine.
After eating, however, sleepiness began to creep over me.
I was so drowsy I could hardly keep my eyes open. All I wanted was to lie down and sleep.
Of course, that was impossible. Even resting my head on the table would have earned me a fine.
By two or three in the morning, the exhaustion had become almost unbearable.
To fight off sleep, I pinched the skin on my arms as hard as I could, hoping the pain would keep me awake.
But my skin, usually so sensitive, had grown numb with fatigue. No matter how hard I pinched, I could barely feel anything.
All I could do was stare at the clock on the wall, willing the hours to pass faster.
But the three hands seemed to have fallen asleep too. They barely moved.
At that moment, I wished time would flow like a river.
In the end, I couldn't take it anymore.
I made an excuse to go to the toilet, then crouched there and closed my eyes for a little while.
The first time, I rested for about five minutes.
The second time, ten.
When I tried to go again for a third time, Wu Shaofen had had enough.
She snapped at me.
“You're a new employee. Having to share a machine with you is already a disadvantage for me. Just look at all the parts piling up on the table! If you keep running off to the toilet, we'll still be here working until ten tomorrow night and won't finish the order.”
Zhang Pei, who had been walking around the workshop inspecting the workers, heard the commotion and came over.
“What’s going on?”
I was so frightened that I hardly dared to breathe.
Wu Shaofen shot me a cold look.
“What do you think? Someone's slacking off and keeps running to the toilet!”
Zhang Pei turned on me.
“Yang Haiyan! What's going on here?”
I was mortified. Lowering my head, I stammered,
“I… this is my first night shift. I'm just so sleepy.”
Zhang Pei scolded me sharply.
“You're here to work, not to sleep! I'll let it go this time. Don't do it again!”
With that, he stormed off in anger.
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