Chapter 388: He Can

Li Zhongfa lit a cigarette and smoked in silence, not speaking for a long, long time.

Director Wang also fell silent alongside Li Zhongfa, staring fixedly at this elder pioneer, hoping to receive the answer he desired.

Since meeting Li Zhongfa, Wang Qingshan had felt this man was a "natural ally" handed to him on a silver platter.

Both were military veterans, both had shed blood and youth for this land, both had lived through the fiery era of rapid development and honorable dedication.

Now both ran enterprises, both had introduced foreign investment nearly simultaneously, and both were troubled by the ideological shock of new overseas values.

From every perspective, Li Zhongfa and he shared the same stance and could support each other as comrades.

But Wang Qingshan had missed one thing: Li Zhongfa had a grandson named Li Ye.

Li Zhongfa slowly finished his cigarette, then spoke slowly: "To be honest, I've been pondering similar questions lately, but couldn't see clearly through the fog, so I set them aside for now."

"But today, seeing the state of Pengcheng Red Bull, I know I can't wait any longer—I can't keep thinking."

Upon hearing this, Director Wang perked up instantly, pulled out a cigarette and offered one to Li Zhongfa, ready to have a deep talk.

"Old Brother Li, I knew you saw it too—we must unite and fight together against the Hong Kong side."

"No."

Li Zhongfa blocked the cigarette Director Wang offered, shook his head solemnly: "What I mean is, if we don't learn from them soon, we won't even have time to think—we're running out of time."

Director Wang froze.

He couldn't understand: Li Zhongfa was over ten years older, had fought in that brutal war, had been a staunch supporter of building New China—how could he now be cowering before foreign ideas?

Director Wang stared at Li Zhongfa for five or six seconds, then suddenly threw his cigarette on the ground and snapped: "Old Li, how have you been blinded by a few bucks?"

What carried us through all these years of hardship? It was the belief in unity—once we adopt their system, everything will be decided by money.

What happens when you have no money?"

Director Wang was clearly furious—he paced back and forth, muttering as he walked: "Do you even know how our factory survived these past two years without funds?"

"We endured it through the spirit of unity and sacrifice."

Director Wang suddenly stopped, gesturing forcefully: "When our efficiency dropped, everyone pooled together to practice frugality—we saved every penny, devised countless ways to cut material waste.

When our cash flow broke down, I went to higher-ups for funds; the workers collectively voted to delay wage payments to ensure normal production."

"When our production targets were slashed, not a single worker slacked off—even without tasks, they stayed at their posts, maintaining equipment as if it were brand new, laying the foundation for our eventual revival."

Director Wang poured out a flood of details about Changbei Machinery, then pointed toward Pengcheng Red Bull: "Old Li, tell me honestly—do they have this spirit?

Can they endure hardships like we did? They can't—they can only go bankrupt. Do you understand 'bankrupt'?"

Li Zhongfa sat calmly, listening quietly until Director Wang finished, then softly said: "They had no choice."

"What?"

Director Wang blinked, clearly not grasping Li Zhongfa's meaning.

"I mean, our workers endure hardship because they have no other option."

Li Zhongfa spoke with heavy tone: "I admit our fine traditions must not be lost; I admit certain spirits must be passed down.

For decades, it was this spirit, this drive, that held up this great nation—but let me ask you one question."

Li Zhongfa pointed toward Pengcheng Red Bull: "If we competed directly with a factory like Pengcheng Red Bull, could you beat them?"

"Forget wages—look at what their workers eat in the canteen, then think of what ours eat. Aren't you ashamed?"

"Our workers push themselves—do theirs not? Hearts are made of flesh—over time, who will outlast whom?"

Director Wang was speechless for a moment, but then, regaining himself, spoke even more passionately: "We won't compete with them—we'll unite to change them.

I came to Pengcheng specifically to talk with Pengcheng Red Bull's mainland manager: we've already let foreign investors profit, but we won't let them corrupt our culture—on our own soil, we must be the ones in charge."

Li Zhongfa didn't seem surprised by Director Wang's words.

These past days, they'd often exchanged ideas; Li Zhongfa had sensed Director Wang's thoughts—after all, tensions between Changbei and the Hong Kong side had long existed.

Negotiating jointly with the Hong Kong side wasn't impossible; mutual exchange leads to mutual progress, doesn't it?

But Pengcheng Red Bull's situation had surprised both men, sparking entirely different thoughts within them.

Li Zhongfa thought a moment, then said: "Culture mustn't rot, but workers aren't soldiers—we can't demand too much, nor should we."

"Old Li—"

Seeing Director Wang about to speak, Li Zhongfa cut in: "Your question is valid, but we still need to reflect, to test it.

But rest assured—we're fundamentally different from Western ideologies; the higher-ups won't let us be swayed by corrupt trends. Also—"

Li Zhongfa paused, then said: "I once heard someone say that as enterprise leaders, we must preserve precious traditional spirit while ensuring workers live well,

we must make workers embrace our spirit of hardship, yet also make them as wealthy as workers in developed nations—that's what we should do."

Seeing Director Wang stunned, Li Zhongfa softened his tone, speaking earnestly: "As factory directors, shouldn't we first think of our own workers?

Now that we've opened up, look at factories like Pengcheng Red Bull—this is just a joint venture. What if more foreign companies flood in? Can we help our workers earn a living? Can we make them prosperous?"

"We're all running enterprises, using mainland workers—why should we be worse than others? Do foreigners have three noses and six eyes? We must fight them with our own abilities!"

Director Wang was confused—Li Zhongfa's arguments had left him bewildered.

Wasn't he supposed to be convinced by me? How did I end up speechless?

The truth was, someone like Li Zhongfa—who'd survived gunfire and risen to lead a unit—was hardly a soft-headed fool.

What could Director Wang tell him about sacrifice and devotion?

Li Zhongfa had nearly died as a martyr countless times—he understood better than anyone what winds were blowing and what actions to take.

Now the higher-ups demand efficiency and tax revenue; the workers demand food and clothes. As a factory director, if you don't violate principles, shouldn't you first learn to make money?

You can't keep begging the higher-ups for funds, constantly reaching out—no matter how good your superior, he'll grow tired.

It's like the national hero Yue Fei: folk tales portray him as a warrior, one man against a thousand, unmatched in valor.

But according to official records, his ability to raise funds surpassed even his martial prowess—Yue's army ran its own businesses and paid bonuses to its fierce troops.

"Old Brother Li, I'll go get some wine—tonight we must settle this. I still think you're wrong."

Director Wang couldn't shake his thinking—he decided to fight Li Zhongfa head-on.

If our own people can't agree, how can we fight the Hong Kong side for more rights?

But unluckily, just then a phone call came for Li Zhongfa.

"Your mother called you over? Did she say why?"

"Nothing important—just asked you to come for dinner."

"Oh."

Director Wang watched through the window as Li Zhongfa hurried out, puzzled.

"Where's Old Li going? Why so secretive?"

Li Ye drove an unremarkable passenger-van, waiting nearly an hour at Li Zhongfa's lodging before seeing him approach.

Li Ye had Li Zhongfa get in, then asked: "Grandpa, what were you doing? Took you so long?"

Li Zhongfa replied: "Wang Qingshan cornered me and chattered for ages—he's confused, keeps repeating the same tired arguments, stubborn as a mule."

"Confused?" Li Ye smiled as he drove: "What's he confused about? Why workers earn more than him?"

Li Zhongfa looked at Li Ye in surprise—his grandson had hit the nail on the head.

Li Ye said calmly: "Don't look at me like that, Grandpa. Wage disparity is one of the main conflicts between management and frontline workers—it's no surprise he doesn't get it.

Next time he's confused, tell him: when the tide rises, all boats float. The general manager of Pengcheng Red Bull earns six figures—no upper limit."

Li Zhongfa blinked, asking Li Ye: "Your mother earns six figures a year?"

Li Ye smiled: "What's surprising? But Grandpa, understand this: high wages require achieving Pengcheng Red Bull's scale and performance.

If he ran the factory into chronic losses, would he dare take the money?"

For the rest of the ride, Li Zhongfa said nothing.

When they arrived at Fu Guiru's residence, Li Ye said: "Mom's a bit afraid of you, so when you meet her, avoid too much family talk—focus instead on the characteristics and practices of foreign enterprises. Learn from each other."

Li Zhongfa nodded, then suddenly said: "Your mother's afraid of me? I'm afraid of her too. When your father enlisted, it was your mother who pinned the red flower on him, and they fell in love through letters.

So when that letter from overseas was reported, I scolded your father—accused him of being reckless, obsessed only with your mother's beauty.

Those few complaints somehow reached your mother's ears; within days, she filed for divorce.

Honestly, coming to Pengcheng this time, I felt that since your mother's still alive, I, as her father, can't pretend ignorance forever.

Things are too complicated for you siblings to relay—only a face-to-face talk can settle them. But now that it's here, I'm nervous.

If your mother hadn't called me, I wouldn't have known how to begin—after all, I bear responsibility for what happened back then."

Li Ye stared at Li Zhongfa in astonishment: "Grandpa, there's a whole story behind this?"

Li Zhongfa sighed: "This isn't a story—it's a karmic debt."

"Tap-tap-tap."

Li Ye led Li Zhongfa to knock on Fu Guiru's door.

Inside, hurried footsteps sounded, then stopped right by the door.

After several seconds, the door slowly opened.

Fu Guiru stood inside, staring at Li Zhongfa; Li Zhongfa stood outside, studying her.

Both opened their mouths to speak, but seeing the other open theirs, both fell silent, waiting—like two mute fools, painfully awkward.

Li Ye wanted to push his grandfather inside, but felt he shouldn't interfere now.

Long moments passed, then Fu Guiru sniffled, voice thick: "Dad."

"Hmm."

Just that one "Dad," that one "Hmm," made two stubborn souls tear up, both weeping.

(End of Chapter)

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