Chapter 90: Zhou Andong Gets Taken Advantage Of

“Slow down!” Zhou Andong was immensely relieved he hadn’t sat in the front passenger seat—Gu Bing was acting like a madman; the car’s wheels were nearly lifting off the ground. “What’s wrong? Did your wife cheat on you? Are you rushing to catch them in the act, or chasing after her runaway lover?”

Gu Bing scowled. “Can’t you ever wish me well?”

Zhou Andong ignored him, turning his head to watch the scenery blur past outside.

“I’m a little sleepy—let me borrow your shoulder.” Jian Qiu wrapped her arm around Yang Luo’s, resting her head against Zhou Andong’s shoulder.

A faint, sweet fragrance drifted into his nose, making him inhale deeply. He subtly shifted his neck; Jian Qiu’s disheveled strands brushed lightly against his cheek, tickling him.

Lately, Jian Qiu had often made ambiguous gestures toward him—but always when no one else was around. Now there were more than just the two of them; Gu Bing was right up front.

Gu Bing glanced in the rearview mirror, his lips twitching. He wanted to tell Jian Qiu: Girl, can’t you show a little restraint? With your looks, how could you possibly fail to find a man?

There were no highways yet. Covering over 230 kilometers took more than four hours; they finally arrived at the heavily guarded compound at three in the afternoon.

“Stop.” A fully armed guard stood at the gate, raising a hand in a stop signal, then saluting.

Gu Bing rolled down his window. “Comrade, please contact Secretary Qiu. Tell him Zhou Andong has arrived.”

Jian Qiu opened her eyes. She had truly fallen asleep, and resting against Zhou Andong’s shoulder, she’d slept soundly.

“We’re here?” Jian Qiu didn’t release her grip on Zhou Andong’s arm, lifting her head to glance out the window. Her voice was slightly hoarse from sleep.

Zhou Andong grumbled, “How would I know if we’ve arrived?”

Watching Zhou Andong pout like a child, she adored him even more. She didn’t even know when her heart had become entirely filled with him.

The guard returned to the guardhouse, picked up the internal phone, dialed a number, confirmed the details, then opened the gate.

Gu Bing drove into the compound and soon pulled up before a three-story building. The middle-aged soldier was already waiting at the door.

“Get out,” Gu Bing said.

Zhou Andong didn’t move. He frowned. “What’s going on? You’d better tell me now.”

“A big figure wants to meet you. I don’t know the reason myself. Whether it’s fortune or misfortune, you’ll have to handle it carefully—we can’t help you.”

Gu Bing refused to say who wanted to see Zhou Andong, imagining how the old man’s visit would terrify Zhou Andong into trembling legs—his heart was bursting with amusement. But he forgot there was a woman whose head was clouded by love.

Jian Qiu leaned close to Zhou Andong’s ear and explained the situation.

Zhou Andong was first surprised, then excited, then calmed down. He was just an ordinary, utterly insignificant nobody. The old man suddenly wanting to see him could only mean one thing: the recent People’s Daily article on core socialist values. Now that he knew why the old man wanted to meet him, he had nothing to fear.

“Aren’t you nervous?” Jian Qiu asked, watching Zhou Andong’s relaxed expression.

“Why be nervous? The old man doesn’t eat people.” Zhou Andong remained calm, then glanced regretfully at his clothes. “I just wish I’d changed into something nicer.”

They got out of the car. Jian Qiu carefully adjusted Zhou Andong’s collar. “Are you stupid? Meeting the old man—you’re best off wearing your work uniform.”

The middle-aged soldier stared at Jian Qiu, tenderly fixing Zhou Andong’s clothes, his expression bewildered. Clearly, he recognized Jian Qiu.

Gu Bing felt deeply annoyed. Can’t you two behave? Fine elsewhere—but do you have any idea where you are?

“Secretary Qiu!” Gu Bing greeted the soldier. “Long time no see.”

Qiu Zhiwu smiled. “The old man praised your reforms in Jiangzhou.”

“What?” Gu Bing couldn’t believe it. The old man praised him?

“Secretary Qiu!” Jian Qiu no longer cared about propriety. She grabbed Zhou Andong’s hand and led him to Qiu Zhiwu. “This is Zhou Andong. I’m handing him over to you—don’t you dare mistreat him.”

Qiu Zhiwu smiled. “Who would dare mistreat someone the old man wants to meet?”

The old man was reading the investigation report on Jiangzhou Distillery’s reform in his study. Even the preliminary stages of the upcoming short story contest were documented, with details so precise even Zhou Andong had forgotten them.

“Tap-tap-tap…”

The study door was gently knocked. The old man didn’t look up. “Come in.”

Qiu Zhiwu carefully opened the door, stepped inside, and stood silently, not daring to interrupt.

After a moment, the old man looked up. “Are they here?”

Qiu Zhiwu nodded. “They’ve arrived.”

The old man smiled. “Bring them in.”

Zhou Andong entered. Qiu Zhiwu poured him a cup of tea, then withdrew.

The old man looked at Zhou Andong and smiled. “Sit down.”

Zhou Andong sat on the sofa, calm and composed, showing no sign of nervousness. After all, he’d lived two lives and died once already—what was there left to fear?

Yet this only deepened the old man’s admiration. This young man looked ordinary, but he carried profound depth. Especially for having distilled the theory of socialist core values—his insight and foresight surpassed every other youth of his generation.

If Zhou Andong knew this evaluation, he’d probably fly with excitement.

The old man picked up a cigarette. “Do you smoke?”

Zhou Andong wanted to say no, but remembered the old man was famously addicted to cigarettes, so he nodded. “Yes.”

The old man chuckled. “Let’s have one together, grandpa and grandson.”

Zhou Andong smiled too. He hadn’t expected the old man to be so kind and gentle. Talking with him felt even more comforting than talking with his own grandfather.

“Thank you,” Zhou Andong rose to take the cigarette. Panda brand—the packaging looked identical to the ones he bought in stores—but the cigarette itself was different: a golden thread ran along the filter.

Zhou Andong pulled out his lighter, lit the old man’s cigarette first, then his own.

The old man drew in smoke. “Do you know why I wanted to meet you?”

Zhou Andong nodded. “Probably because of that People’s Daily article.”

The old man nodded. “Can you tell me about it in detail?”

Again? Zhou Andong inwardly groaned, but dared not refuse. He racked his brain, desperately recalling news reports from his past life. He spoke for over an hour.

At this point, the old man’s feelings toward Zhou Andong went far beyond mere admiration—he had already formed an idea: “I’ve looked into Jiangzhou Distillery’s reform. It’s been very successful, but highly limited—not suitable for all enterprises.”

The old man lit another cigarette. “Many state-owned enterprises are now sick—seriously so. Reform is no longer optional; failure could bring even worse consequences. Do you have any good suggestions? Tell me.”