Chapter 30

Zhu Dayong laughed and said, “Old Wang, you done with work already? Taking me for a joke?”

Wang Wanli grew anxious: “Don’t you dare doubt it—this liquor is called Jiangzhou Imperial Tribute. Yesterday, a VIP from Jingcheng came to the guesthouse for a meal and drank this exact brand. The empty bottles and packaging are still here—I’ll send someone to deliver them to you right away.”

“Dududu…”

A busy tone came through the receiver. Zhu Dayong set the phone down, frowning. He knew exactly what was going on at the Jiangzhou Distillery—last month, Zhang Deyou had come to him personally, begging to offload the massive surplus of Da Gaoliang. Because they’d always gotten along, he’d had to give face, so even though Da Gaoliang wasn’t selling, he still bought two hundred cases.

If this Jiangzhou Imperial Tribute liquor was real, even if the distillery was bleeding red, the Jiangzhou finance bureau would absolutely ensure its normal operation. Zhang Deyou wouldn’t stoop to begging everyone he knew just to sell a few bottles and pay the workers’ wages to keep his chair warm.

Just as Zhu Dayong was baffled, someone knocked on his office door. A young man in his twenties walked in, carrying a large black plastic bag.

“Director, this was delivered to you by Manager Wang from the guesthouse.”

“Put it here,” Zhu Dayong tapped his desk.

The young man set the bag on the desk, turned, and left, gently closing the door behind him.

Zhu Dayong stared at the liquor box. His first impression: premium, luxurious. His second: this liquor must be expensive. He studied it carefully before opening the box, pulling open the red silk drawstring, and took out the empty bottle.

“Hmm?” Zhu Dayong knew Da Gaoliang inside out. He sniffed the bottle: “This smells just like Da Gaoliang—and the bottle looks exactly like Da Gaoliang’s.”

“Dingling…”

The phone rang. Zhu Dayong picked it up. Wang Wanli’s voice came through: “See it yet?”

Zhu Dayong said, “I see it. I’m calling Jiangzhou Distillery right now to ask what’s going on.”

At home, Zhang Deyou had just picked up a box of tea, preparing to deliver it to the old factory director Gao Qingkui, when his desk phone rang.

“Hello, this is Zhang Deyou.”

“Director Zhang, this is Zhu Dayong.”

“Director Zhu!” Zhang Deyou asked, “I just got to my office and you call—what’s up?”

Zhu Dayong said, “Nothing urgent. Just wondering—does your factory have a liquor called Jiangzhou Imperial Tribute?”

Zhang Deyou paused, then burst out laughing: “How did you hear about that?”

Zhu Dayong said, “So it’s real?”

Zhang Deyou said, “That damn Jiangzhou Imperial Tribute? Yeah, it exists—but it’s not real. Let me tell you straight: it’s Gu Bings’s reform project. It’s just old Da Gaoliang with a fancy new package.”

Zhu Dayong fell silent for a moment: “You’re not lying to me?”

Zhang Deyou said, “Why would I lie to you?”

Zhu Dayong chuckled: “Your Gu Secretary really knows how to play games. Alright, let’s leave it at that.”

“Reform? I’ll make sure you sell not a single bottle,” Zhang Deyou snorted, hung up, picked up the tea, and walked out to the old factory director Gao Qingkui’s office.

“Old Director, try my tea—top-grade Maojian. I don’t even drink it myself.”

Gao Qingkui was reading the newspaper. He looked up, smiling: “What’s got you so happy?”

Zhang Deyou told him about Zhu Dayong’s call.

Gao Qingkui said, “Gu Bing’s faking it like this will cause trouble. So no matter who comes asking, we won’t sell this liquor—not even one bottle from our hands.”

“But!” Gao Qingkui smiled, continuing, “Gu Bing’s reform actually saved you.”

“Saved me?” Zhang Deyou said. “Saved me from what?”

Gao Qingkui said, “New Year’s coming. If we can’t pay wages and the workers riot, how long will your position as acting director last? Now, with Gu Bing’s reform, all the blame’s on him. When wages don’t get paid, it’s not your fault. The workers’ anger has nothing to do with you.”

Earlier, Zhang Deyou had begged everyone he knew, running around trying to sell the eighty tons of stockpiled liquor, terrified of wage arrears and worker uprisings threatening his chair.

Except for Zhu Dayong at Hu Yang Supply and Marketing Cooperative—who, out of friendship, took two hundred cases—he hadn’t sold a single extra case. His hair was nearly white from worry.

Back when Da Gaoliang was popular, every supply and marketing cooperative and independent dealer treated him like family, bowed and scraped, showered him with cigarettes and gifts—now everyone avoided him. Every time, he flew into a rage and cursed.

“I never thought that far,” Zhang Deyou smiled. “I’ll have to thank Gu Secretary in person.”

Gao Qingkui looked at Zhang Deyou. Zhang Deyou winked back. Both men burst into laughter.

At that moment, Wang Wanli was on the phone with Zhu Dayong. His expression shifted between fury and disbelief. His breathing grew heavier, then he slammed the phone down.

“Fuck, you little shit—you dared to trick me? Don’t let me run into you again.”

Around two in the afternoon, Gu Bing returned, dusty and tired. He didn’t go to his office—he went straight to the packaging workshop. As soon as he entered, he saw Zhou Andong loitering inside.

“Zhou Andong!” Gu Bing called out.

Zhou Andong turned, grinned wide: “Secretary, I’ve missed you so much!”

Gu Bing rolled his eyes: “How’s your family?”

Zhou Andong said, “Fine. How’d your mission go?”

Gu Bing nodded: “Tomorrow, the seventh, we’ll visit grassroots cadres and war heroes. Our liquor has been added to the list of comfort items.”

“Snap!” Zhou Andong snapped his fingers. “Perfect! I just wonder when it’ll hit the papers.”

Gu Bing said, “Probably around the ninth or tenth.”

Zhou Andong turned to leave: “I’ll go find Yao Army. Tomorrow we move to the next step.”

Gu Bing nodded: “Go ahead. I’ll rest in my office. Let’s go out for drinks tonight.”

Zhou Andong didn’t find Yao Army in Workshop Two. Outside, he ran into Liu Zhiguang and Qian Wei.

“Oh, college grad, what are you doing loitering here?” Qian Wei sneered. “Measuring the distance from Workshop Two to the gate? Figuring out how long it’ll take you to crawl?”

Liu Zhiguang smirked darkly: “By the way, I heard you’re sleeping with Wang Ruomei—and your wife caught you in bed. That’s why she’s divorcing you. Come on, tell us—is it true? The whole factory’s talking. Wang Ruomei hasn’t shown up for two days, yet you’re acting like nothing happened?”