Chapter 45

Gu Bing lit a cigarette and continued, “To be honest, I have no big ambitions—or rather, no ambitions at all. I came here just to go through the motions; I could be transferred out anytime. If the factory goes under, it has nothing to do with me. But seeing over a thousand workers here on the verge of starvation, my heart grows heavier by the day.”

I can’t stand by and let over a thousand workers starve—that would haunt me for the rest of my life. So I proposed reforms to save the factory at the lowest possible cost. But I never expected these reforms would trigger a reaction from certain people, who, ignoring the fate of over a thousand workers, used every underhanded trick to suppress and block the sale of the liquor.”

“Sigh!” Gu Bing sighed, clapped Yan Guohai on the shoulder, and made the old man jump.

“Water can carry a boat, but it can also capsize it. Going against the tide and opposing over a thousand starving workers won’t end well for you.”

Gu Bing pushed open the office door: “Tonight I’m going out to dinner with Director Jian and Comrade Zhou Andong—you should come too, have a drink with us. If you don’t show up, I won’t mind bringing back those twenty-odd private merchants and holding a full-factory workers’ meeting.”

The final remark was a blatant threat. Yan Guohai was speechless with despair—truly, gods were fighting, and he, a mere mortal, was suffering. And Gu Bing’s sudden assertiveness left him deeply unsettled.

No matter how he thought about it, he was now on the fire, and whether he went or not, the consequences would be severe.

If he didn’t go, Zhou Andong would immediately summon a full-factory workers’ meeting, expose his actions, and with the private merchants testifying, he’d have no way to defend himself—he’d be torn apart by furious workers.

If he went, Gao Qingkui and Zhang Deyou wouldn’t let him off either, but being held accountable was a matter for later—right now, he’d be safe. Thinking this, Yan Guohai gritted his teeth: whether he died early or late, who wouldn’t want to live a couple more days?

Zhou Andong sat on the sofa smoking, while Jian Qiu and Jiang Yuyue played cards. When they saw Gu Bing return, they all looked up and, seeing his smug expression, knew the outcome.

“Let’s go, I’m hungry—let’s eat,” Zhou Andong rose and headed for the door.

“Hey hey hey!” Gu Bing grabbed Zhou Andong’s arm, “Aren’t you going to ask me how it went?”

Zhou Andong rolled his eyes: “No matter the outcome, we still have to eat.”

Jian Qiu tossed down the cards and called to Jiang Yuyue: “Yuyue, let’s go eat.”

Watching the three leave the office, Gu Bing felt suffocated—he’d wanted to show off, but these three hadn’t even listened. The words were right on his tongue, yet no one heard, leaving him agonizingly oppressed.

“Who the hell did I piss off in my last life?” Gu Bing muttered, then hurried out after them.

Just as the four stepped out of the factory gate, Yan Guohai rode up on his bicycle: “Secretary Gu, Director Jian.”

Gu Bing gave a slight nod. Yan Guohai dismounted: “Where are we eating?”

Gu Bing said: “Same place as yesterday—the hotpot was good.”

“Alright!” Yan Guohai said, “I’ll go ahead and tell them to start preparing. By the time you get there, it’ll be ready.”

Gu Bing waved him off: “Go ahead.”

Watching Yan Guohai leave, the four exchanged glances. Zhou Andong chuckled: “Looks like I’m saving dinner money tonight.”

Jian Qiu snorted: “You saved it today—you’ll spend it tomorrow.”

After playing cards all morning, Zhou Andong won again—this time, he won everything. Jian Qiu lost the most, over two hundred yuan by herself.

The drinking lasted until past seven that evening. Zhou Andong saw Jiang Yuyue onto the bus; by the time he got home, it was nearly nine.

“Dong Ge!” As Zhou Andong lit the stove, Yao Jun pulled back the curtain and walked in.

“Why are you here so late? Something wrong?”

Yao Jun pulled a thick stack of cash from his pocket: “This is the money from Wu Cheng and the others selling the wall calendars—over nine thousand six hundred.”

Zhou Andong said: “That much?”

“No!” Yao Jun said, “They sold the liquor at all sorts of prices. This afternoon I went to Finance and settled accounts at factory price—so this includes the liquor profits.”

Zhou Andong smiled: “Where are Wu Cheng and the others? How much did you give them?”

Yao Jun said: “Two hundred each.”

Zhou Andong nodded: “Good. Count out half—this year we’ll have a decent New Year.”

This time Yao Jun didn’t refuse—he counted out the money and handed it over: “Here. I’ll keep the rest.”

Zhou Andong took the cash: “Hold onto it—we’ll use it for business after the New Year.”

Yao Jun paused, curious: “What kind of business?”

Zhou Andong said: “Not decided yet. We’ll see after we sell the liquor and get the bonus. This amount’s a bit low—not enough to work with.”

Yao Jun nodded. He didn’t go home that night but stayed at Zhou Andong’s. They talked until late into the night, dreaming of the future.

January 10th—the sky finally cleared. Morning sunlight carried warmth, and the streets seemed busier than the past two days.

At nine a.m., the municipal guesthouse conference room held thirty or forty people—all enterprise managers from Jiangzhou. But these enterprises were all insolvent, teetering on bankruptcy.

At 9:10, Gao Qingkui walked in carrying a bag. Everyone in the room greeted him.

“Manager Gao, your Jiangzhou Imperial Tribute Liquor is great—when can I get a few bottles? Wonder if it’s better than Da Gaoliang.”

“Yeah yeah, Old Gao, give me a few bottles too. Your wall calendar ads were really good.”

“Manager Gao, you’re handing out calendars everywhere—why not send a few thousand to our sister units? And give your workers some benefits? That’s not very brotherly.”

“Exactly! You’re giving them to anyone—why not us?”

They all knew the liquor factory’s situation—and that Jiangzhou Imperial Tribute Liquor was just Da Gaoliang. Their tone was mocking, making Gao Qingkui’s face darken.

“Oh my, Old Gao, why so glum? Feeling unwell?”

The speaker was Liu Qingjun, formerly vice-manager of the liquor factory, crushed by Gao Qingkui and Zhang Deyou’s collusion, forced to transfer to an electronic equipment factory. Their feud had only deepened.

Gao Qingkui sneered: “I’m in perfect health. You’ll die before I do.”

“Not necessarily!” Liu Qingjun chuckled. “You’re over sixty—I’m only forty-something. I’ll definitely outlive you.”