Chapter 8

After leaving the gate, turning the corner at the intersection, and walking a few more minutes, Zhao Wenjun stopped in front of a restaurant.

“Here it is. The exterior isn’t impressive, but the food’s good—especially our Nanxin specialties. Sometimes I just come here for one dish and a couple of drinks.” With that, Zhao Wenjun stepped inside the restaurant.

A woman in her thirties, clearly the owner, immediately came forward. She recognized Zhao Wenjun and greeted him with a smile: “Director Zhao, here for a meal? The usual three dishes?”

“Yes. Add two more dishes. I have a colleague with me. Book a private room.”

“Got it…”

The owner led the two into a private room, then went off to attend to other business.

The dishes arrived quickly: stir-fried clams, head cabbage, jellyfish with edamame, braised Langshan chicken, and slow-cooked bamboo clams from the local harbor. The last two dishes were clearly last-minute additions. Of course, there was also the local favorite: Hualu liquor.

As they ate and chatted, after a few cups, Zhao Wenjun refilled Fang Qingye’s glass and suddenly said:

“Little Fang, you’re impressive—you saw right through the mystery of the Tenglong Industries theft case at a glance.”

“Director Zhao, what do you mean?” Fang Qingye put down his chopsticks, looking stunned. “I don’t know anything about the whole affair.”

“Let’s cut the crap. Xia He reported to Secretary Liu that night—you gave an example… and that example matched the Tenglong case exactly. Do you still call that just an example?!” Zhao Wenjun sneered.

Fang Qingye only smiled, picked up his chopsticks, and took a bite.

“Little Fang, why are you helping Xia He? I don’t think it’s just because you’re alumni, right?” Zhao Wenjun asked again.

Fang Qingye remained silent.

Zhao Wenjun didn’t press further. He lifted his cup and drained it in one gulp, then suddenly opened the private room door and shouted toward the counter: “Owner, do you have a Xinhua Dictionary?”

The owner clearly didn’t understand why he wanted a dictionary. She paused, then smiled and replied: “I think we have one. I’ll get it for you.”

A few minutes later, she returned and handed Zhao Wenjun an old-looking dictionary.

“I couldn’t find a child’s edition, so I dug up the one I used back in school. It’s a bit worn out—will this do, Director Zhao?”

“Perfect. If it were new, I probably couldn’t do it.” Zhao Wenjun smiled, took the dictionary, and passed it to Fang Qingye.

Fang Qingye was baffled—he had no idea what the man was up to.

“Let’s play a little game—with a stake, how about it?”

“What game?” Fang Qingye was internally wary, but his expression remained calm.

“Open this dictionary to any page at random. Tell me the page number and the position of a character—say, the first one on the left side—and I’ll tell you exactly what character it is.”

Huh?

Fang Qingye suddenly recalled the scene in the movie “Chinese Partners,” where Cheng Dongqing memorized the entire English dictionary on a plane and turned the negotiation around. He’d been stunned watching it.

Could Zhao Wenjun really have that ability?

“Then what’s the stake?” Fang Qingye asked cautiously.

“If I win, you treat me to this meal.”

“And if I win?” Fang Qingye asked.

“Then I’ll tell Xia He a secret no one else knows.” Zhao Wenjun smiled mysteriously.

“Alright.” Fang Qingye picked up the dictionary, flipped to a random page, and asked: “Page 120, first character on the upper left.”

“E, as in ‘sepals’—the green ring of small leaves beneath the petals.”

Correct!

Fang Qingye flipped a few pages further: “Page 147, right side, third character from the bottom.”

Zhao Wenjun thought for a moment, then answered: “Gan—‘gan’ as in ‘after bitterness comes sweetness.’”

“Impressive! I lose!” Fang Qingye put down the dictionary and gave a thumbs-up. “Director Zhao, memorizing dictionaries is your specialty—your skill runs deep!”

“Heh, just hard work. I’m from the 1960s, grew up in the countryside. Back then, my family was poor—I only got a few years of school. After reform and opening, I went to the city to work for a while, stoking boilers. No entertainment, couldn’t afford books, but I happened to pick up a dictionary and started reading it whenever I had time.” Zhao Wenjun took another sip of wine and slowly recounted his past.

“I spent all day stoking boilers. At night, when the boiler room had electricity, I read it day and night… I was just a peasant kid—no connections, no background. If I wanted to amount to something, how else could I do it but read?”

“Later, the bank hired temporary workers. I thought stoking boilers had no future, so I took the exam—and somehow passed. But I got assigned to sweep floors at the bank.”

“I saw the tellers there, in their uniforms, working in a clean environment, earning high salaries—I was envious. So I studied hard: accounting, abacus, everything. Eventually, I became a teller, then went for further training, step by step, until I reached this position.”

Fang Qingye had never heard these stories before. Hearing them now, he was genuinely surprised and said sincerely:

“Director Zhao, you’re truly inspiring. I admire you.”

Zhao Wenjun smiled and continued:

“I know I’m just a country kid—I don’t ask for much. Becoming a branch manager is already glory enough for my ancestors. The old manager is about to retire; this position should’ve been mine. Just one step away—and then suddenly, Xia He is transferred in, clearly aiming to take over. I kept my face calm, but inside, I resented it.”

“Is it because she’s a graduate, young, beautiful, and has powerful connections, while I only finished elementary school, with no background or education, that I’m supposed to be pushed aside? Little Fang, you can go ask around the bank—or even in the city—how good is my work performance? Am I worse than Xia He?!”

Zhao Wenjun’s voice rose, drawing the owner’s attention. She peeked in, then quietly withdrew.

Fang Qingye spoke slowly: “You can compete fairly with Director Xia.”

“Fair competition?” Zhao Wenjun sneered. “Little Fang, you’re too naive.

“Do you know? When Xia He first arrived, she was ranked below me. But soon after, the old manager suddenly applied to the higher-ups, claiming poor health and requesting to retire for treatment. They approved it immediately—and put Xia He in charge! Tell me—how am I supposed to compete fairly?!”

Fang Qingye said nothing, falling into silence.

“That’s when I knew I had to use extreme measures to reach my goal.” Zhao Wenjun’s eyes flickered with ruthlessness.

“So you used the Tenglong Industries deposit theft case to secretly stir things up and escalate it?”

“Exactly. The bigger the scandal, the more vulnerable Xia He becomes—and the better my chances.” Zhao Wenjun smiled.

“Actually, I discovered the irregularities in the Tenglong case three months ago. I knew it was an inside job. So I thought: use this to set a trap.”

“But it was still too early. If I exposed it too soon and the truth was uncovered, it’d be meaningless. So I pretended ignorance and waited. I even approached Qian, the boss of Tenglong, to help me muddy the waters further and make the investigation harder.”

A hint of pride appeared on Zhao Wenjun’s face.

“Qian listens to you?” Fang Qingye interjected.

“Qian is my friend—we drink together often. Besides, if he doesn’t listen, does he still expect a loan?” Zhao Wenjun replied coolly.

Fang Qingye silently lifted his cup and took a sip.

“But just as I was about to succeed, you stepped in and ruined everything. Tell me—what did Xia He give you?!”