Chapter 342

Xu Damao walked out of Li Huaide's office, feeling as if he had been refitted with a wound‑up toy frog, able to hop again.

The few words from Factory Director Li—"pay attention to methods" and "identify systemic issues"—kept being reheated in his mind, gaining more flavor the longer he chewed on them. Indeed, what are a single dish or a single meal? The whole logistics "reserved land" is rich in profit, and that's where the hoe should be turned!

This time he had learned the "essence", so he no longer stormed straight for the canteen with fanfare. Logistics management hinges on accounts and procedures. He recalled Old Han, the warehouse manager in the Logistics Department, who is usually listless and wears a forced smile at everyone, seeming like a possible breakthrough. Xu Damao decided to start from the periphery, like a spider weaving a silent web.

However, Xu Damao, this self‑perceived clever "spider", did not know that his every move, even the faint thread behind him, fell within a pair of eyes that were cool to the point of indifference.

The owner of those eyes was not in the plant at that moment.

In Siheyuan No. 95 Xi Kua Yuan, a faint aroma of food drifted out, mingling with the crisp laughter of children. This is Li Ping'an's home.

The living room was spacious yet tidy and neat. Five‑year‑old Li Yaozong stood in horse stance, his little face clenched, practicing the supporting‑hammer posture of Bajiquan on the open floor; although his arms and legs were still juvenile, his movements were precise, already showing a hint of steady composure.

Li Ping'an sat in a rattan chair by the window, cradling a cup of hot tea, his gaze on his son, occasionally speaking to correct his posture: "Sink the waist down, draw power from the ground, don't float."

His voice was not loud, bearing the crisp, calm tone typical of a soldier.

From inside came the babbling sounds of a baby and a woman's gentle humming. Wife Lin Xueqing, who had just finished work, was soothing their one‑year‑old daughter Nuanqing. As a surgeon at Union Hospital, Lin Xueqing always carried a faint scent of disinfectant and an unhurried demeanor; like the steadiness with which she wields a scalpel, she is the family's anchor.

"Ping'an, Pingle just sent a note saying they won't come tonight; the two kids have a bit of an upset stomach," Lin Xueqing said softly as she walked out holding her daughter.

"Hmm, have Jiang He take them to the factory health clinic for a look," Li Ping'an nodded, shifting his gaze from his son, and took the delicately carved daughter from his wife's arms.

Xiao Nuanqing saw her father, opened her toothless mouth in a grin, and reached out a tiny hand to grab his chin. The stern line that usually marked Li Ping'an's face in the plant softened instantly, as if an iceberg met warm sunshine.

This is Li Ping'an's "paradise apart from the world." The overt and covert struggles, the power jockeying within the plant, seemed to be cut off the moment one stepped through the home's door.

His position as Head of the Security Department let him perceive many undercurrents, yet he resembled a calm chess player, or rather a measured observer, rarely making a move, only intervening when necessary to keep the board from tipping.

The dishes were served—simple two meats and a vegetable—but well paired. Lin Xueqing's cooking was as precise and efficient as her surgeries.

"I heard the canteen was lively today?" Lin Xueqing slipped an egg piece to her son and asked casually. She had also caught a faint rumor at the hospital.

Li Ping'an carefully removed the bones from the fish and fed his daughter, then said lightly, "Xu Damao is leaping about, trying to bite Sha Zhu, and broke a tooth." Concise yet it captured the essence.

"Master He is straightforward, but he knows his limits when he works," Lin Xueqing remarked. She had seen Sha Zhu a few times and thought him decent.

Li Yaozong ate his rice, lifted his little face curiously and asked, "Dad, is Xu Damao a bad person? Is Uncle Sha Zhu a good person?"

Li Ping'an looked at his son's clear eyes, paused, and said, "Matters in the plant can't always be labeled simply as good or bad. Xu Damao wants to ride the momentum to climb up, but his method is wrong. Sha Zhu sticks to his duty at the Stove, yet his temper is hot, making him easy to be used as a weapon." He tried to explain the complex interpersonal game in terms a child could understand.

"It's like practicing martial arts," Li Ping'an put down his chopsticks, gesturing, "some people train to strengthen the body and uphold the right path; others only learn a few moves and think about showing off, fighting ruthlessly, and bullying others. The fist itself isn't good or bad; it depends on whether the practitioner's heart is righteous."

Li Yaozong nodded as if half‑understanding, and kept eating earnestly.

Li Ping'an knew in his heart that the canteen uproar was only surface. Xu Damao was not a serious threat, but behind him, Li Huaide, using the ostensibly legitimate pretext of "strengthening logistics management," was extending his hand toward the canteen and the entire logistics supply system—that was the real key.

And his Security Department's duty was to maintain plant security and production order. In theory, as long as there was no theft, sabotage, or major violation, these "business entanglements" and "methodological disputes" among management did not require his direct involvement. Yet if an eye of the storm formed, it would be hard not to affect the whole plant.

He recalled a subtle piece of information from the afternoon: Xu Damao had been lingering near the Logistics Department warehouse and had "accidentally" run into the warehouse manager Old Han, chatting for quite a while.

Old Han… In Li Ping'an's mind, that face always wearing a humble smile but with eyes that flickered appeared. The warehouse accounts were probably not that clean. Not a huge issue, but they couldn't withstand a diligent person scrutinizing them with a magnifying glass.

If Xu Damao truly opened a loophole in the warehouse accounts, even if only trivial "irregularities," it could spark a wave of "rectification," and at that point Yang Weiguo would be forced into a passive role.

"What are you thinking? The soup is getting cold," Lin Xueqing's voice pulled him back to reality.

Li Ping'an lifted the soup bowl and took a sip. The warmth and solidity of home contrasted sharply with the chill of the plant's invisible battlefield. He needed that contrast to stay clear‑headed.

"Nothing much," he smiled at his wife, "just some trivial matters at the plant. Yaozong, after you finish eating, go through the 'small frame' you were taught this afternoon once more for me to see."

"Yes, Dad!" Li Yaozong answered brightly, and ate even faster.

It was late at night; the child and his wife were already asleep. Li Ping'an stood on the small balcony, gazing at the faint lights of the distant plant and the few silent smokestacks. The early‑spring night wind carried a chill, brushing his motionless silhouette.

He was like a sword sheathed, its edge hidden, yet constantly sensing every subtle movement around him. Xu Damao's skullduggery, Li Huaide's scheming, Yang Weiguo's response, and even Sha Zhu's steadfastness beneath his hot temper… all fell within his calm observation.

"Logistics management…" he muttered softly, a faint, almost imperceptible curl at the corner of his mouth. This pool is indeed deep. If Xu Damao wants to wade in, let him first test the water temperature. Perhaps it will also let him see more stones beneath the surface.

He turned back into the house, gently closed the balcony door, sealing the cold night outside. Inside, the steady breaths of his wife and child were the warmest anchor in the chilly night.

And he, the Head of the Security Department who holds the plant's safety gate, while enjoying this peace, still has his mind working silently, like the fist principle he taught his son—stillness is fine, but when moving it must be with thunderous force, striking the true vital point.

The drama in the plant is still being performed. As a special audience member, he sees it more clearly than some onstage.