Chapter 409: Closing In Step by Step

On the morning of the fourth day of the New Year, the Steel Rolling Mill was a little more eerily silent than usual.

When Li Ping'an pushed the cart through the main gate, the guard on duty averted his gaze briefly, gave a hurried salute, and lowered his head.

That gesture carried an indefinable unease.

On the propaganda boards lining both sides of the factory area's main road, the red paper slogans pasted for the Spring Festival were still there, but their corners were curled by the cold wind, drooping listlessly in the morning light.

A few early‑arriving workers gathered in the downstairs smoking area; the smoke condensed into white clumps in the cold air and lingered for a long time.

Upon seeing Li Ping'an, their chatter abruptly stopped.

Someone turned their face away; another forced out a strained smile.

"Chief Li, Happy New Year."

The voice was dry, like sun‑baked straw.

Li Ping'an nodded, pushing the cart toward the Security Department office building.

The wheels rolled over the frozen cement road, producing a monotonous rustle.

He could feel those gazes behind him.

Inquisitive, wary, gloating.

Like countless fine needles stabbing his spine.

In the Security Department office, Wang Dahu was already there.

The furnace hadn't been lit yet; the room was as cold as an ice cellar.

He was squatting in the corner, sorting documents; when the door rang, he looked up, his face showing unmistakable fatigue.

"Chief, you've arrived."

"Why isn't the fire lit?" Li Ping'an took off his cotton gloves.

"Coal… we're short on coal." Wang Dahu stood, rubbing his frozen hands. "The Logistics Department said this month's coal tickets haven't been approved yet, so we have to wait."

Li Ping'an frowned.

The Logistics Department was under Li Huaide's command.

The holdup over such a trivial matter as coal tickets was obvious.

"Use mine first." He pulled several coal tickets from the drawer. "Go get some and light the furnace."

Wang Dahu took the tickets, opened his mouth, then fell silent.

"Anything else?"

"… about Factory Director Yang," Wang Dahu lowered his voice. "Yesterday afternoon, his secretary was transferred to Workshop Three. They said it was a routine reassignment, but everyone knows Workshop Three belongs to Deputy Factory Director Li."

Li Ping'an walked silently to the window.

Outside the window lay the factory area's open square; the red flag on the pole fluttered and snapped in the cold wind.

"Anything more?"

"Old Zhou from the Personnel Department…" Wang Dahu's voice dropped further. "I heard he voluntarily requested a transfer and went to the union. The union chairman is Deputy Factory Director Li's brother‑in‑law."

Names one after another, positions one after another.

Like pieces on a chessboard, moved by an invisible hand.

Yang Weiguo's influence was disintegrating at a visibly rapid pace.

"Got it." Li Ping'an turned, "Go get the coal and light the furnace first."

Wang Dahu opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing, took the coal tickets, and left.

At nine a. m., the factory Party Committee convened.

The small conference room was filled with swirling smoke.

When Li Ping'an pushed the door open, the room was already packed with people.

Yang Weiguo sat at the head seat, his complexion a bit ashen, eye sockets sunken, the cigarette he held burning a long segment, ash trembling as if about to fall.

Li Huaide sat to his left, leaning back slightly, a faint, ambiguous smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Seeing Li Ping'an enter, he nodded.

"Comrade Ping'an, have a seat."

The tone was overly familiar.

Li Ping'an sat near the door.

Next to him was Union Chairman Old Zheng, Li Huaide's brother‑in‑law, his plump face piled with a smile, eyes narrowed into slits.

"Chief Li, is everything at home fine for the New Year?"

"All good." Li Ping'an replied.

The meeting began.

Yang Weiguo cleared his throat, his voice hoarse.

"Today we'll mainly discuss this year's production plan…"

Before he could finish, Li Huaide cut him off.

"Factory Director Yang, the production plan isn't urgent. I think we should first discuss the factory's ideological construction issue."

He pulled a document from his briefcase.

"This is the latest directive from higher‑ups, requiring each unit to strengthen political study and rectify ideological conduct. Our factory owes a lot in this regard."

He pushed the document toward Yang Weiguo.

Yang Weiguo took it, glanced over it, his complexion grew even worse.

"Deputy Factory Director Li, production is a hard metric; ideological construction must align with production reality…"

"If thought is not firm, the ground shakes!" Li Huaide raised his voice. "Those words aren't mine; they're written in the document. Factory Director Yang, do you have objections to the higher‑up's directive?"

His hat was fastened very tightly.

The conference room was dead silent.

Everyone kept their heads down; no one dared to look at Yang Weiguo.

Li Ping'an lifted his teacup and blew away the froth.

The tea had already cooled, but he still took a sip.

Bitter, astringent.

Like the air in the conference room at this moment.

After the meeting adjourned, Li Ping'an was the last to leave.

When he reached the corridor, he heard footsteps behind him.

It was Yang Weiguo.

The old man was alone, carrying an old briefcase, his back slightly hunched.

"Ping'an."

Li Ping'an stopped in his tracks.

"Factory Director Yang."

Yang Weiguo walked to his side and remained silent for a moment.

The window at the end of the corridor was open, cold wind poured in, making the propaganda poster on the wall rustle.

"You... how have you been lately?" Yang Weiguo asked.

"Fine."

"That's good then." Yang Weiguo nodded and fell silent again.

After a long while, he finally spoke slowly.

"You've seen what's happening in the factory. Some people... can't wait any longer."

He spoke very slowly, each word seeming to be forced out of his chest.

"I'm old, can't keep up with the situation. But this factory... is the livelihood of thousands of workers; it can't be messed with."

Li Ping'an gave no reply.

He knew what Yang Weiguo wanted to say.

He wanted him to pick a side, to lend his support.

But he couldn't.

At least not now.

"Factory Director Yang," Li Ping'an chose his words carefully, "I am the Head of the Security Department; my duty is to maintain safety and stability in the factory. The rest... is beyond my jurisdiction."

His words were smooth, yet they drew a clear line.

Yang Weiguo looked at him, his eyes complex.

There was disappointment, there was understanding, and also... relief.

"Alright, alright." He nodded, "Doing your primary duties well is also good."

After speaking, he turned and left.

His silhouette in the empty corridor appeared especially lonely.

In the afternoon, Li Ping'an went to the Logistics Department to handle affairs.

Li Huaide's office door was open, and laughter and chatter drifted out.

Several mid‑level cadres gathered around him, some handing out cigarettes, others pouring tea.

"Factory Director Li, what do you think of this personnel adjustment..."

"Don't worry, everything's arranged," Li Huaide said in a resonant voice, "Our factory needs fresh blood. Some old comrades have rigid thinking and can't keep up with the times."

Someone echoed, "Exactly! It should have been changed a long time ago!"

Li Ping'an paused at the doorway and knocked.

The laughter and chatter abruptly stopped.

Li Huaide saw him, his eyes brightening.

"Comrade Ping'an! Come, come, come in and sit."

He greeted him warmly and poured tea himself.

"Taste it, this is this year's new tea, a friend brought it from the south."

The teacup was handed over, the tea leaves unfurling in the hot water, a fresh fragrance filling the nose.

Li Ping'an took it and said thank you.

"Ping'an," Li Huaide patted his shoulder, "You are the young backbone of our factory, cultured and capable. From now on, take on more responsibilities."

His words were very straightforward.

The surrounding cadres exchanged glances, understanding without words.

Li Ping'an set down the teacup.

"Factory Director Li, I am the Head of the Security Department; my primary duties aren't finished yet, I dare not think of anything else."

"Hey, you can't put it that way," Li Huaide laughed, "Young people should have ambition. Rest assured, with me here, talent won't be buried."

He said some more formalities.

Li Ping'an listened quietly, nodding occasionally, but gave no reply.

When he emerged from the Logistics Department, dusk had already fallen.

Lights lit up in the factory area, and the Workshop's machines were still roaring.

The workers left in small groups, their faces bearing a day's fatigue.

Li Ping'an pushed the cart and walked out slowly.

When passing the factory office building, I saw that the light in Yang Weiguo's office was still on.

In the window, the hunched back of an old man was projected, slumped over the desk, motionless.

Like a statue.

Returning to the Siheyuan, the sky was already completely dark.

The scent of rice drifted from the Xi Kua Yuan.

Lin Xueqing was stir‑frying in the kitchen, while two children crouched at the table doing homework.

"Dad!" Li Yaozong looked up, "Today in our class, Wang Xiaojun said his father got a promotion."

Li Ping'an's hand paused as he took off his coat.

"What position?"

"I don't know, they just said he was transferred to the factory office," the child thought for a moment, "Wang Xiaojun also said his family will be able to eat meat every day from now on."

Lin Xueqing came out of the kitchen and wiped her hands.

"Let's eat first."

Dinner was simple: stewed cabbage with vermicelli, and flatbread.

Li Ping'an ate absentmindedly.

Lin Xueqing glanced at him a few times, saying nothing.

After the children fell asleep, she whispered, "Did something happen at the factory...?"

Li Ping'an set down his bowl.

"Factory Director Yang might be about to fall."

Lin Xueqing was stunned.

"Then... then you..."

"I haven't taken sides yet," Li Ping'an said, "but Li Huaide is courting me."

"Did you agree?"

"No," Li Ping'an shook his head, "but I didn't refuse either."

He stood up and walked to the window.

Outside the window, the night was heavy, with only a few scattered lights.

"Factory Director Yang is an old revolutionary, with merits and hardships. But he... is so upright that he doesn't understand flexibility."

"What about Li Huaide?"

"He knows how to maneuver within the camp, has connections, and has a group under his command," Li Ping'an turned, "The most important thing is that he has someone above him."

Lin Xueqing was silent for a long time.

"Then... what do you plan to do?"

"Wait," Li Ping'an said, "wait until the situation becomes clearer. Jumping out now is too early."

He walked to his wife's side and took her hand.

"Don't worry, I have a sense of proportion. I know how this game should be played in my mind."

Lin Xueqing nodded, leaning on his shoulder.

Outside the house, the cold wind howled.

Inside, the stove fire burned brightly.

But Li Ping'an knew that this warmth was temporary.

The factory's struggles, the Siheyuan's scheming, the tide of the times...

All were quietly brewing on this cold early spring night.

And he must, in this game, find the safest spot to place his move.

Not hurried, not restless.

Neither biased nor leaning.

Just as he has always done over the years.