Chapter 4: 003 City Management Youth

The young man also noticed Fang Qingye nearby and walked over with a smile to greet him.

“Ye Zi, off duty?”

“Yeah, Da Hai, still working?” Fang Qingye replied with a smile.

“I can’t compare to you guys at the bank—clean uniforms, surrounded by beautiful girls. We’re stuck with endless messes, sometimes even getting pointed at and cursed behind our backs.” The young man named Da Hai sighed.

“Nonsense, you brought it on yourself! Your dad got you a good job, but you refused it—you had to become a city management officer!” Fang Qingye shot back without mercy.

“Hehe… I like it!”

This young man named Da Hai’s full name was Song Da Hai, Fang Qingye’s childhood friend—they’d grown up together and were inseparable buddies.

He also held another identity—the second son of Song Qingdong, the so-called richest man in Nanxin.

To be fair, Song Da Hai was a real oddball: he did poorly in school, dropped out of high school, and his dad used connections to get him enlisted. He didn’t go to some cushy unit—he insisted on joining the Xinjiang field army!

After serving several years, he was discharged and returned to the county, where government policy assigned him a job.

With his father’s influence, he could’ve chosen any position—Personnel Bureau, Urban Construction Bureau, Water Resources Bureau—but he refused them all and specifically joined the City Management Team.

In his own words: “I’m too wild to sit in an office. I just love wandering around outside all day.”

His father was furious, ashamed of the disgrace, and told him outright: don’t come to work—and don’t even step foot in his company, for fear he’d ruin it.

“Just stay home! I’ll support you, isn’t that enough?!”

He refused. “I’m young, healthy, and have both hands and feet—why should I leech off my parents? I want to contribute to society!”

His father nearly had a heart attack from rage and gave up entirely: “Fine, do whatever you want.”

So Song Da Hai drove his brand-new BMW X5 straight to the City Management Team. He got along well with his colleagues, but his 2,000-yuan monthly salary didn’t even cover his fuel costs…

Fang Qingye saw Song Da Hai was working and didn’t want to disturb him, so he said a few words and turned to leave—but Song Da Hai stopped him.

“Hey, grab hot pot after work? There’s a new place on Jinhua Road called Chongqing Courtyard—tastes great. Let’s go try it? My treat!” Song Da Hai said.

“Sure, I’ve got nothing planned tonight.” Fang Qingye agreed readily.

“Bring two pretty girls from the bank—can Chen Meimei come? Invite her.” Song Da Hai grinned.

“Why should I invite her?… Da Hai, you’re not into her, are you?” Fang Qingye asked sharply.

“No way!” Song Da Hai quickly denied it. “I already told you—your bank’s got tons of beautiful girls. Chen Meimei’s especially stunning. Meanwhile, our City Management Team? Mostly big guys. The few women? More like dinosaurs.”

“Chen Meimei’s probably busy—she’s been seconded to the municipal investigation team.” Fang Qingye replied honestly.

“The municipal investigation team? The one looking into the Tenglong Industries deposit theft case?” Song Da Hai lowered his voice.

This time, Fang Qingye was stunned.

“How did this even get to you?”

“Heh… Nanxin’s a tiny place. A whisper spreads through the whole city.” Song Da Hai wore an expression that said, “You’ve never seen the world.”

“My dad heard the rumor last night and immediately called the company’s CFO to check if our own accounts were affected. Twenty million—that’s no small sum.”

“That’s true…” Fang Qingye nodded.

“How could this happen? Is there a mole in your bank?” Song Da Hai put on a Sherlock Holmes expression.

“Hey, don’t talk nonsense—there’s an investigation going on right now!” Fang Qingye snapped back.

“Fine, I won’t say more. I’ve got work to do… Go ahead and grab a table. I’ll join you after work—don’t forget.”

As Song Da Hai turned to leave, Fang Qingye hurriedly asked: “Bring Liu Dong?”

“He’s been swamped lately—writing day and night. Probably no time.”

Fang Qingye was surprised: “He’s a cadre at the Aging Committee—what’s there to write? Are they making him read to old folks?”

“You didn’t know? He was seconded to the County Propaganda Department last week. He’s busy drafting news and publicity materials.”

So that’s why!

Song Da Hai said something and walked off, shouting at the old man selling strawberries: “Old man, no more chit-chat. You say strawberries don’t sell well elsewhere? Fine—I’ll buy them all! Take your money and go home! Clear this spot!”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.

Holy shit…

Definitely a rich kid.

Fang Qingye muttered under his breath, then rode off on his scooter.

Liu Dong was another one of his buddies.

Unlike Song Da Hai, who’d been in elementary school with him, Liu Dong came from the countryside and only transferred to the county middle school in junior high, sitting next to Song Da Hai—the three became close.

He got into Jinling Normal University, originally planning to become a teacher, but later passed the civil service exam and was assigned to the County Civil Affairs Bureau, then sent to its subordinate unit—the Aging Committee.

It was a quiet place with nothing to do. Liu Dong joked that his whole life would be spent with old folks.

Liu Dong was a romantic literary youth—he loved writing and had real talent. In his spare time, he submitted articles to the Jinghai Daily, and several got published, catching the attention of the Propaganda Department, who then dragged him into writing news and publicity pieces.

Of course, being in the Propaganda Department offered far more prospects than the Aging Committee.

When he got home, neither his father nor mother had returned.

His father, Fang Jianwen, was probably out networking.

Chengguan Middle School was only a junior high, but it was a long-established school in Nanxin County with outstanding teaching quality—the top choice for parents sending kids to middle school.

Though regulations officially banned key classes, every region secretly concentrated top teachers into a few classes to boost admission rates—key classes in all but name.

Chengguan Middle School had two such classes each year, making parents scramble to get their kids in.

How to get into a key class?

Principal Fang Jianwen held decisive power.

So Fang Jianwen had many social engagements, especially during the critical period each year when students transitioned from elementary to middle school—his phone rang nonstop, with endless people begging for favors. Fang Qingye remembered that every summer in August, his father would take his mother on a “vacation” to escape the pressure.

There was no choice: too many requests, only a hundred or so spots in two classes—they couldn’t give them all to connections.

So Fang Qingye was used to his father rarely being home for meals.

His mother, Zhang Meili, was a regular elementary school teacher with few social obligations, but now teachers had to attend endless training sessions, meetings, and Party activities—she usually got home past six.

Fang Qingye was used to it.

Back in his room, he took off his bank uniform, changed into a jacket and jeans, slipped on sneakers, wrote a note on the living room coffee table saying he wouldn’t be home for dinner, then headed downstairs and rode his scooter straight to Jinhua Road.

He found the “Chongqing Courtyard” hot pot restaurant—decorated nicely, newly opened, with 88% discounts on dishes, so it was packed today.

They didn’t need a private room; Fang Qingye grabbed a table in the main hall, ordered a split pot, a few dishes, and brewed a pot of tea while waiting for Song Da Hai.

A few minutes past six, Fang Qingye saw a white BMW speed up and stop outside the restaurant. Song Da Hai got out—still wearing his City Management uniform, holding a plastic bag in his hand.

Seeing him enter, Fang Qingye waved. Song Da Hai walked over, plopped down across from him, and set the plastic bag on the table.

Inside were strawberries.