Chapter 132: Knocking the Female Accountant Speechless

The big truck took away Director Zhang’s belongings, leaving Li Ye a messy home.

Without needing Li Ye’s instructions, Lao Song, Tan Min, and others immediately began cleaning up.

Despite his limp, Lao Song had sharp eyes—he first tidied up Li Ye’s study, then pulled out his personal thermos and tea set, and soon brewed a pot of tea for Li Ye.

“Try this Zhang Yiyuan tea. Though folks in Beijing rave about it, I think it’s decent.”

Tan Min moved swiftly, filling the yard’s big hole in no time, then fetched water, swept the floor, and scrubbed everything—his efficiency was unmatched.

Let’s be honest, the internal discipline of soldiers is top-notch; no matter their background before enlistment, once they’ve been through training, few remain sloppy.

Wei Jiaxian, meanwhile, carefully examined every piece of furniture in the room.

Li Ye poured a cup of tea and handed it to Wei Jiaxian.

“I’m not thirsty, thank you.”

Wei Jiaxian spoke little, but was always polite.

Li Ye didn’t bother with formalities and asked, “What do you think of these furnishings?”

Wei Jiaxian blurted out, “This set of round-back chairs is from the late Qing Dynasty, but one chair is missing and was later replaced—poorer material and inferior craftsmanship.”

“That bed frame is from the early Republic era; the wood and craftsmanship are excellent, but one leg was broken and later repaired—slightly flawed.”

“The bookshelf in the study was patched together—half old, half new.”

“Cough cough, Jiaxian, Jiaxian, go help Tan Min out.”

Lao Song hobbled over, limping urgently, and shooed Wei Jiaxian out.

Li Ye watched Lao Song with a knowing look, smiling faintly without speaking.

Lao Song grinned, showing his yellow teeth: “He’s just a fool. I brought him here to pick apart the items while we’re collecting them.”

Li Ye chuckled: “Someone who can spot flaws is a real talent. Why are you so nervous?”

Lao Song looked embarrassed: “He’s talented, sure, but he speaks too bluntly, right? Young Master, don’t take offense—antique dealing? Perfect pieces are rare. Yours—”

“I’m not angry,” Li Ye said, nodding toward Wei Jiaxian. “Who taught him? You?”

Lao Song shook his head: “I couldn’t teach him. He inherited the skill. When his father died, he’d already learned four or five tenths of it—everything after was self-taught.”

“Then who’s more skilled—you or him?”

“It depends on what kind of skill.”

Lao Song puffed out his chest: “If it’s about distinguishing real from fake, tracing origins—no, I’m not his match. He has lineage.”

“But when it comes to buying low, selling high, haggling, playing mind games—add his dead father to the mix, and he still can’t match one of my fingers.”

“.”

Li Ye probed: “When someone comes to pawn a cotton-padded coat, you used to shout, ‘Bare lining, no fur, a ragged coat’?”

Lao Song’s eyes lit up: “Young Master, you’re truly learned—know everything!”

“Alright, alright,” Li Ye couldn’t help but sigh. “You’re not humble at all—and you’ve got no shame! Back when you ran the pawnshop, didn’t you just scam people and rack up sins?”

“Young Master treats me with honesty, so I won’t lie to you,”

Lao Song chuckled awkwardly: “I’ve cheated gamblers and thieves, sure—but if it’s a decent family, I always leave them a way out, accumulate some merit. Otherwise, how’d I even have a grandson?”

Li Ye finally understood.

Wei Jiaxian’s grandfather was the owner—sharp-eyed, skilled—but never got his hands dirty. Lao Song had some ability too, but mostly did the dirty work.

One truly “played” antiques; the other just traded them. Their realms differed, but each excelled in their own field—hard to say who was better.

At noon, Hao Jian arrived.

The moment he walked in, he gave Li Ye a genuine surprise.

Crisp trousers, shiny leather shoes, a spotless white shirt, a meticulously combed hairstyle, and a tie neatly knotted.

If he’d added a suit jacket, he could’ve walked any runway of this era.

He’d also brought two others trailing behind him like attendants—had Li Ye not known his background, he’d have believed Hao Jian was some overseas Chinese businessman.

Li Ye circled Hao Jian with interest and smiled: “Impressive, Lao Hao. Shouldn’t I call you Deputy Factory Director now?”

Guo Donglun had finally helped Hao Jian resolve his affiliation issue—though the official title went to someone else, Hao Jian held full authority over operations.

Hao Jian waved his hands nervously: “No, no, no, Brother Li Ye, don’t tease me. These are all our own factory’s products. I’m just following your advice—getting firsthand experience, firsthand experience.”

But Li Ye insisted: “I’m not teasing you. Dress for the job. Keep this look—it’s good.”

Hao Jian chuckled twice and quickly introduced: “This is the accountant I told you about, Zhou Lijuan. I brought her to Beijing to meet you.”

The two people Hao Jian brought were Ma Qianshan and a new female accountant, Zhou Lijuan.

Zhou Lijuan had previously worked as an accountant at a large enterprise in Yangcheng, but took the blame for someone else, which landed her in Hao Jian’s hands.

It wasn’t surprising Hao Jian didn’t pick and choose—by 1982, who was just sitting around waiting to be hired?

Any university graduate had to accept an assignment. If you refused, your school and neighborhood committee would come to your home to pressure you.

Li Ye nodded politely to Zhou Lijuan.

He didn’t look down on her—he was open to anyone with talent. Grab them first, sort it out later.

After a welcome dinner, Hao Jian voluntarily pulled out an account book.

“Here’s the ledger for the past two months. Brother Xiao, take a look.”

Li Ye opened it and saw it was far more organized—everything he wanted was clearly recorded, unlike before, when he’d had to guess and estimate from a mess.

And the money had grown significantly.

The expanded secondary wholesale model was already paying off, growing faster and larger by the day, with no end in sight.

Looking at the current cash surplus, Li Ye calculated—and confirmed he had truly become a millionaire.

“Ge, go get Dayong. We’ll meet tonight.”

“Hao Jian, bring Zhou Lijuan in.”

Li Ye sent Jin Peng to find Li Dayong, then summoned Zhou Lijuan alone to the study.

“Sit. Want tea?”

“No, thank you!”

Zhou Lijuan sat nervously across from Li Ye, staring at the young man, momentarily lost in thought.

Though Hao Jian had told her about Li Ye beforehand, meeting him in person still hit her hard.

He was too young—but his demeanor lacked the usual youthful restlessness. It was strange.

“Accountant Zhou, how many years did you work at your previous unit?”

“Eleven.”

“Were you the chief accountant?”

“Yes. I served as chief accountant for three years.”

“Accountant Zhou, I won’t waste time with formalities. Tell me your difficulties first, then I’ll explain my financial requirements.”

Li Ye didn’t put on airs or beat around the bush. Zhou Lijuan had worked in a large enterprise—she’d seen plenty of people who played games. He’d rather be direct.

Someone who rose to chief accountant in a ten-thousand-person company wasn’t simple. Playing mind games with her might just make him look foolish.

“I have no difficulties. I’ll do my job well.”

Zhou Lijuan answered stiffly—she had no other options.

After leaving the factory, she felt the world had collapsed.

Li Ye had given her shelter, a place to stand—how could she dare complain?

“Alright, I’ll state my requirements.”

Li Ye’s smile vanished. He spoke formally: “First, I demand clean books—truly clean. Can you understand?”

Zhou Lijuan blinked, then quickly replied: “I understand. I can do it.”

She prayed he’d demand exactly this!

Li Ye continued: “Second, you must clearly know who’s in charge.”

Zhou Lijuan immediately said: “I know—you’re the real boss. All accounts will be regularly submitted for your review.”

Li Ye nodded inwardly—Hao Jian still knew his place.

This was precisely why Li Ye had to meet Zhou Lijuan.

Li Ye operated behind the scenes—he could avoid direct involvement in everything else, but finances had to be under his direct control.

For example, for a long time, many organizations in Shenzhou had two “final authorities”—sometimes one dominated, sometimes the other.

If subordinates couldn’t tell who held real power, just look at the finances.

Whoever controlled the finances was the king.

“Third, whether you recruit or train, build a financial team as soon as possible—set up the financial structure in Beijing, Yangcheng, and Pengcheng. Conduct regular audits and strict oversight.”

Zhou Lijuan asked in shock: “So I’ll still have to travel between Yangcheng and Beijing?”

Li Ye nodded: “Absolutely.”

Zhou Lijuan fell silent for several seconds, then whispered: “I have children. My elderly parents aren’t well.”

Li Ye’s expression didn’t change. He spoke firmly: “Heavy responsibility means high pay. I’ll give you one percent of the position’s profit share.”

“Position profit share? You mean one percent of the profits?”

Zhou Lijuan instantly understood—and stared at Li Ye in disbelief, even using the honorific “you.”

“Yes. You get the share while you’re on the job. No job, no share.”

Li Ye smiled and explained further—and Zhou Lijuan was utterly stunned.

As an eleven-year veteran accountant, she didn’t need to check the books or pick up a pen—she could already roughly calculate how much she’d earn.

In later years, high-level executives receiving stock options and profit shares was normal—but in 1982, giving an accountant such a massive position-based profit share was like detonating a nuclear bomb inside her head.

It completely stunned her.

This young man is far more impressive than Director Hao!

(End of chapter)