Chapter 392: Old Song Isn

"Is this Zhongyingjie? Why does it feel like our county's big market day?"

"Lots of people mean good goods! Keep an eye out for me while I go buy some nice stuff."

"What nice stuff are you buying?"

"Can't say, can't say—my wife asked me to get it. Women's things, don't go asking."

"Bullshit, I can guess even if you don't tell me—either stockings or underwear. At thirty-five or forty, still so flashy."

"If it's this good, I'll buy a few pieces for my wife too."

"You're thirty-nine already—don't you think that's flashy?"

"Men are flowers at forty-one—I'd be weird if I didn't be flashy!"

On the fourth day of the inspection team's visit to Pengcheng, Li Ye, at the request of Li Zhongfa and others, had Hao Jian arrange their tour permits to Zhongyingjie and led them over for a quick stroll.

Zhongyingjie was even more famous now than two years ago; many felt visiting it was like traveling abroad, and since they'd come all the way to Pengcheng, not seeing it felt like an incomplete trip.

At first, the group didn't notice much, but once they saw the goods and asked prices, they couldn't stop themselves—everything looked good, everything looked cheap.

But today, a few fewer people came to Zhongyingjie—Director Wang had left early with several attendants the night before.

The reason: the technical upgrade team at Changbei Machinery Company had made a "major technological breakthrough," and called to report the good news to Director Wang, who rushed back to take charge.

After arriving at Zhongyingjie, Li Zhongfa found a quiet moment to ask Li Ye: "Xiao Ye, do you think that 'major technological breakthrough' is real?"

"It's definitely fake," Li Ye said firmly. "You've seen that upgrade team Wang set up—surely your eyes can tell how much real skill they've got."

A few days ago, Li Zhongfa had brought the Qingshui Food Company inspection team to visit Changbei, and Director Wang had specifically shown them the upgrade team.

Half the workshop was scattered with random parts; the technicians' hands and clothes were spotless—clearly a face-saving stunt.

"Yeah, though I don't understand machinery well, I still felt it was all show—those technicians clearly weren't the type to dig deep into their work."

"But Wang Qianshan isn't the type to talk empty words. If the breakthrough's fake, he probably just bought ready-made tech and partnered with that Zhongai Company."

Li Zhongfa glanced at Li Ye, then suddenly smiled: "But it's strange—Tang Mingtai was furious when he heard about cooperating with the Japanese, but after last night's news, he's quiet as a well-behaved wife. Did you two cook up something?"

Li Ye said in surprise: "Grandpa, you figured that out too?"

Li Zhongfa scowled, laughing and scolding: "I don't even need to see—I can guess. Over the past two years, have you ever willingly taken a loss? The calmer you are, the worse the scheme you're hiding."

"Grandpa, you're amazing—you guessed half right."

Li Ye said, half-complimenting, half-flattering, then added: "We're not hiding anything bad—we're preparing to compete head-on with Zhongai Machinery Company."

"You're going to compete directly with the Japanese?"

Li Zhongfa grew serious, his voice low: "Though I'm not afraid of them on the battlefield, when it comes to machinery and technology, the Japanese are truly skilled—you must be careful."

Li Ye looked at Li Zhongfa, deeply respectful.

He didn't spout empty slogans like "Overcome difficulties and win!" or say "Can you even do it?"—he simply said, "Be careful."

That meant Li Zhongfa had never doubted it in his heart—he subconsciously believed they should face Zhongai head-on, fight them straight on.

Li Ye said calmly: "Grandpa, you don't need to remind me—I know the gap between our mainland and Japan in precision machining. They're ahead by ten, even thirty years."

"If this is a direct comparison like the 2188 TV—fully imported, original equipment—we can't compete. Honestly, we can't. Their multi-axis machine tools are far ahead."

Li Ye paused, then suddenly smiled: "But Zhongai Machinery is in Pengcheng—so why should we fear?"

Li Zhongfa didn't understand, so he asked: "What does it matter that they're in Pengcheng? Are you going to have Hao Jian sabotage them? Some tactics aren't above board."

"We won't use any tactics—they've tripped themselves up. Zhongai is in Pengcheng, so they're on the same starting line as us."

Li Ye explained: "We on the mainland need to import machinery materials at high prices—but so do they."

"If their core components are processed overseas, we can use Hong Kong to do the same. Sure, costs are higher now, but the Japanese are shrewd—they'll raise prices eventually. Let's see who outlasts whom."

"If they process locally, they can get advanced machine tools in Pengcheng—we just need to spend big, and we can get them too."

"Even if they bring in craftsmen from Japan—our mainland master craftsmen aren't inferior!"

"So what's left to compare? Isn't it just technology?"

Li Ye said confidently: "Grandpa, we're behind now, but we have the tradition of pooling resources to accomplish big things."

"Zhongai isn't some giant corporation—how many PhDs can they hire? How many professors?"

Li Ye took a breath, calm on the surface but utterly resolute: "Pei Wencong has already returned to Hong Kong to inspect the new machine tools. Tang Mingtai has gone back to Beijing to recruit talent. Now it's all about skill."

"The Japanese aren't just dealing with Changbei Machinery—they want to use their slight technological edge to win big. We'll let them fly for now; when the time's right, we'll charge with bayonets."

"If we win, we'll raise a glass to celebrate."

"If we lose, we admit we're outclassed, dust ourselves off, and fight another round."

Li Zhongfa, weathered by decades of hardship, stood silent for a long time, his teeth clenched.

He understood Li Ye's logic—he agreed with competing—but the key issue was "money."

Every single thing Li Ye described required money.

With money, every point sounds reasonable; without it, you're just talking nonsense—who else could do what you're doing?

Others import advanced production lines using massive foreign exchange—what's the point if you don't have it?

Even if you have foreign exchange—

Grandson, our tradition of pooling resources uses public funds. But you're spending your own money to compete—doesn't that hurt?

Of course it hurts—but somehow, it also feels kind of thrilling.

"Xiao Ye! I don't fully understand what you're doing, but it sounds exciting. Go ahead—lose your pants, I'll buy you new ones."

Li Zhongfa wasn't one to dither. Though he clenched his teeth, he still gave Li Ye full, righteous encouragement.

What the grandson does, you support.

Li Ye smiled: "Grandpa, that sounds… exciting, huh?"

Li Ye stopped mid-sentence, suddenly frozen—he'd spotted someone "striking" through Li Zhongfa's shoulder, amid the crowd.

In 1984, Zhongyingjie was packed: merchants hauling big bags to stock up, fashionable tourists with cameras scanning left and right, pickpockets and swindlers with furtive eyes.

So seeing anyone here wasn't surprising.

Old Song wore a sun hat that clearly cost a fortune, and a pair of expensive sunglasses, and spun two iron balls in his hands—ding-ding-dong, never stopping.

If it were just his outfit, it wouldn't be strange enough for Li Ye to give him a second glance—and certainly not recognize the man half-hidden behind the glasses.

What made Old Song stand out was his slow walk.

Most people at Zhongyingjie moved briskly, glancing at shops and stalls—but Old Song took slow, steady, measured steps, like an old cadre taking a leisurely stroll.

People like him were rare on Zhongyingjie.

Yet no one who didn't know him could tell he was lame.

Li Ye, trailing behind, had observed Old Song for a while and, through sharp observation, confirmed: Old Song was struggling to walk.

Could a lame man disguise himself as normal without great effort?

So why hide he was lame? He'd been lame for years—it wasn't shameful.

Li Ye followed him awhile, saw no one he was hiding his lameness from—but since he knew Old Song's secret, there had to be something hidden.

After careful observation, scrutiny, and comparison, Li Ye finally locked onto one person.

He was a tall man, over fifty, walking slowly along the street, carrying nothing.

Old Song's gaze drifted casually left and right, never fixed on anyone—but he kept a steady, unchanging distance from that man.

Li Ye studied the man's face, and something clicked.

The man bore a resemblance to Uncle Guan Ciyin. Recalling what Old Song had told him, Li Ye guessed this man might be Guan Ciyin's older brother, Guan Cihui.

Guan Cihui's younger brother, Guan Ciyin, knew Old Song—was he avoiding him?

In the scorching summer sun of Pengcheng, Li Ye followed Old Song and the suspected Guan Cihui for half the day.

Just as he considered sneaking up to pull Old Song aside and demand answers, Guan Cihui ahead stopped.

And Old Song suddenly froze, like he'd been turned to stone—his earlier calm gone.

Li Ye followed their gaze to where four eyes met: an old man.

His hair was mostly white, his face speckled with age spots, but his posture was rigidly straight, his eyes sharp, utterly free of the dull haze of old age.

He stood on the Hong Kong side of Zhongyingjie, quietly watching Guan Cihui on the other side—unaware of Old Song behind him.

"Ding-ding-ding-ding."

Old Song's iron balls clinked faintly as his wrist trembled, revealing his inner agitation.

(End of Chapter)