Chapter 10: The Great Conman Zhou Andong

Zhou Andong stepped out of the broadcast station, pulled his thick cotton coat tighter, muttered something, and ran toward the factory office.

He entered the factory office, went straight to the third floor, stood in front of the Party Secretary’s office door, and knocked.

“Come in!” came a lazy, listless voice from inside.

Gu Bing, thirty-two, had a cigarette dangling from his lips, his feet propped on the desk, staring blankly at the ceiling as he rocked back and forth on his chair.

Zhou Andong pushed the door open and smiled at Gu Bing—this was the Party Secretary, well-connected and arrogant, yet completely sidelined.

“I’m Zhou Andong from the broadcast station.”

Gu Bing lowered his feet from the desk and crushed his cigarette in the ashtray: “You’re that college kid from our factory?”

“That’s right!” Zhou Andong sat down on the sofa near the door.

“What do you want?”

Gu Bing looked puzzled. In over a year since taking office, he’d been completely sidelined—no matter how big or small the issue, he couldn’t get a word in. Few workers came to him for help, and he couldn’t help anyway, because no one listened to him.

Zhou Andong leaned back, crossed his legs, and slowly pulled out a cigarette, lit it.

Gu Bing’s facial muscles twitched. Sure, I’m just a figurehead as Party Secretary—but I’m still factory leadership. Can’t you show a little respect? Act a little nervous, a little deferential—give me some dignity.

Zhou Andong exhaled a slow smoke ring, then launched into his big con: “Secretary, our factory is at a critical juncture of survival or demise. If we don’t reform, it’s a dead end… When that day comes and over a thousand workers lose their livelihoods, you, as Party Secretary, bear undeniable responsibility.”

Gu Bing was dumbfounded. I’ve been here over a year—my words only echo in this room; no one outside listens. If the factory collapses and workers starve, what’s that got to do with me? And reform? I can’t even decide whether to put toilet paper in the restroom. How could I possibly decide something this big?

“Sigh!”

Zhou Andong sighed: “I know your situation here. In one sentence: born great, living miserable.”

Fuck, Gu Bing cursed inwardly. Can’t you just not be so blunt? Everyone in the factory knows I’m miserable—but no one dares say it to my face. Give me a little face, will you?

Zhou Andong studied Gu Bing. He’d heard this guy had powerful connections, a second-generation. But now he looked… stupid. Still, that’s good—he’ll be easier to con.

“The pricing of Da Gaoliang no longer fits the market. Six bottles isn’t expensive, but those with money or status look down on it, while ordinary folks can’t afford to spend it. So Da Gaoliang needs a new positioning—either slash the price, or rebrand for the mid-to-high end.”

“Stop, stop, stop!”

Gu Bing finally spoke: “You know I was born great but live miserable. This Party Secretary role? A figurehead. Talking to me about this is pointless—you need to go to the old factory director or Zhang Deyou.”

Zhou Andong took a slow drag: “The old director retires in two or three months—he wants a smooth exit, not messy reforms. And I’m nobody; he won’t listen to me. As for Zhang Deyou… you know why I was moved from Quality Control to the broadcast station? Because I saw him sneaking around with a female worker in the warehouse.”

Gu Bing perked up, intrigued: “Who with?”

Zhou Andong’s face darkened: “Secretary, your focus should be on reform, not this petty affair.”

Gu Bing sat up straight, solemn: “Comrade Zhou Andong, that’s wrong thinking. I’m the Party Secretary—if a scandal like this happens, how can I ignore it?”

Zhou Andong sneered: “Can you actually control it?”

“Uh!”

Gu Bing nearly choked on Zhou Andong’s retort: “Well… what you said makes sense, but slashing prices is impossible. Rebranding for the mid-to-high end isn’t just words. And you know our factory’s situation—we don’t have money for reform.”

Zhou Andong smiled: “Use the eighty tons of liquor in storage as a test. That’s roughly the funding we need. I’m sure the factory can spare that much.”

Gu Bing slumped back in his chair, feet back on the desk: “After the New Year, I’m applying for a transfer. If the factory collapses and workers starve, it’s got nothing to do with me.”

Zhou Andong, cigarette dangling, leaned forward, continuing his con: “Think about it—when the factory collapses and workers go hungry, all the other leaders are useless, clueless. But you step forward, defy the crowd, push for reform, and save the factory from ruin. Workers get fed, higher-ups take notice. This is your chance to write a brilliant chapter in your life story—never again will such an opportunity come.”

Gu Bing was swayed. His so-called friends were thriving, while he was stuck in this small distillery, crushed and mocked endlessly. If he could actually achieve something, he could look those bastards in the eye and say: I’m not just a nobody.

“How?”

Zhou Andong smiled, took one last drag, crushed the cigarette hard in the ashtray, and kept conning—half an hour passed.

Gu Bing asked skeptically: “Will this even work?”

Zhou Andong said: “Don’t doubt. Believe in yourself to dare try, to accept the challenge. Put simply—can the outcome be worse than our current situation?”

Gu Bing chewed his lip. He felt this guy was conning him… yet why did his blood feel like it was boiling?

“What are you hesitating for?” Zhou Andong stood, walked to the window, gazed at the blue sky outside, and declared loudly: “If we don’t want the world to change us, let’s change the world together. Let those who look down on us and mock us shut their mouths.”

“Bang!”

Gu Bing’s blood fully ignited—he slammed his fist on the desk and leapt to his feet, excited:

“Fuck it, let’s do it. For over a year I’ve let them walk all over me—if they still refuse over this, don’t blame me for going off the rails.”

This guy finally showed his fangs, revealing the sharp edge of a second-generation.

“Wait here. I’ll call a meeting.”

Watching Gu Bing leave the office, Zhou Andong shook his head and sighed: “Young people in this era are still so easy to con.”