Chapter 437: We All Follow Xiao Ye

"Hurry up and drive the car to your grandfather's factory—running around with a black-plate vehicle, thinking no one will notice how close you are to the Hong Kong side?"

Li Ye, along with his grandmother and younger sister, had just carried the items from the car into the courtyard when his grandmother ordered him to drive the car to Qingshuihe Food Company.

Li Ye asked, puzzled: "So what if I'm close to the Hong Kong side? Besides, it's true our family has ties with them—my grandfather's even a consultant for Hong Kong capital. What's the difference between parking this car at the gate or at the factory?"

"You ask me what's the difference? Is it the difference between a capitalist roader and not?" his grandmother Wu Juying snapped. "Everyone knows Hong Kong capital has money, and since we're close to them, people think we can spend money freely too. You lend them money, fine; if you don't lend them money, they call us capitalist roaders."

"Park this car at the gate, and people will say it's a bribe from Hong Kong capital. A Volga's enough—why bring in an imported car? You're burning money."

What had happened to Li Dayong wasn't an isolated case.

Li Zhongfa finally retired in the second half of this year and became a "consultant" for the Hong Kong side—in reality, he was the manager, just renamed to make it easier for the old workers to accept.

Since the Hong Kong side had money, some people assumed Li Zhongfa now had endless cash.

But Li Ye smiled and said: "Grandma, if lending money turns into a grudge, that's actually good—it helps you see who people really are. Everyone says you can know a person's face but not their heart; lending a few bucks lets you tell who's good and who's bad. That's not a loss, is it?"

But his grandmother Wu Juying didn't argue further—she pointed angrily at his forehead and barked: "Are you going or not? Are you going or not?"

His grandfather added from the side: "Do as you're told. Don't ask questions."

"Fine, fine, I'm going, I'm going."

Li Ye hurried out, got in the car, started the engine, and prepared to deliver the Lu Xun to the instant noodle factory.

His younger sister Li Ying, who had been washing the car, immediately looked up with pleading eyes: "Brother, can we come too?"

Li Ye chuckled: "You can come, but we'll have to walk back after."

Without hesitation, Li Ying scrambled into the front passenger seat: "Yeah, yeah, yeah—we'll walk back if we have to."

Li Juan reacted a second too late and tried to yank her sister out to take the front seat herself, but with her brother present, she didn't dare be so domineering.

Yet once she climbed into the back seat, she imitated Li Ye and fastened her seatbelt, then deliberately coughed twice so Li Ying would notice.

Then, as Li Ying tried to fasten her own seatbelt, she ran into trouble—she couldn't pull it out, and yanking harder only made it worse.

Seatbelts—back in the 1980s, not many kids knew how to use them; even in the 1990s, many people still didn't. Many drivers didn't even wear them.

But Li Juan had learned how to fasten one during Li Yue's wedding, knowing the trick of pulling gently.

"Hmph, uneducated, can't do anything right—still think you can be a driver? Dream on!"

Li Ye was speechless. People always said sisters who fought hard as kids grew closer as adults, but wasn't Li Juan's remark overly insulting?

But Li Ying had no time to bicker with her sister now—she gripped the seatbelt with all her strength, tugging like a little rabbit trying to pull up a carrot, her face turning red.

Li Ye patted Li Ying's shoulder and taught her how to fasten the belt: "Next time, don't rush anything."

"If others can do it easily but you can't, your method's wrong. Think more, ask more. Like now—if you'd just been sweet-talking your sister, wouldn't she have taught you how to do it?"

Li Ye felt he was speaking wisely—after all, sweet-tongued kids never lose out.

But Li Ying stubbornly replied: "A person lives for dignity—I'd beg her? Then she'd ride over me forever. She still owes me twenty-three yuan! If I'm sweet, I'll never get that money back."

"No, you'd have gotten it back sooner if you'd been sweet."

Li Ying slowly turned her head toward Li Ye, eyes watery: "Brother, at first she owed me eight yuan—I got sweet… and now it's twenty-three."

Li Ye turned to look at his sister Li Juan—the little girl's eyes darted away, avoiding his gaze.

Damn, so true—the people who lend money shouldn't be too nice, or the debt just keeps growing.

Li Ye drove the car to Qingshuihe Food Company, told the security department it was a joint venture's shared vehicle, and warned them not to let anyone touch it.

The security guards recognized Li Ye—they lent him their bicycle and promised enthusiastically, slapping their chests: "We guarantee not a single pane of glass gets broken."

Li Ye found that odd. Outside, he asked his two sisters: "What does 'guarantee not a single pane of glass gets broken' mean?"

Only then did Li Juan tell him: after their grandfather Li Zhongfa became a Hong Kong consultant, someone once smashed the glass on his car when it was parked at the gate—now drivers always pick it up early and drop it off late.

Li Ye finally understood why his grandmother Wu Juying and grandfather Li Zhongfa had insisted he park the car at the factory—they were afraid someone would smash the glass at night.

But Li Ye still didn't understand one thing.

His grandfather was a brute, his grandmother a guerrilla fighter—why were they suddenly acting so timid?

But soon Li Ye realized: people like Li Zhongfa and Wu Juying never actually backed down—they just pretended to, and there was a reason for it.

"Xiao Ye, Xiao Ye, wake up, get up quick."

In the middle of the night, Li Ye was sound asleep when his grandfather yanked him out of bed.

"Hey, Grandpa, are you training me?"

As a child, Li Ye had been rigorously trained by his grandfather—midnight emergency drills weren't unfamiliar.

"Get up. No talking."

"Okay, okay."

Li Ye quickly dressed, but when he stepped out, he saw his father Li Kaibian already fully dressed—and his uncle-in-law Zhao Yuanchao.

Li Ye was startled: "Uncle-in-law, why are you here? What's happened?"

Zhao Yuanchao, having performed well during the 1983–84 crackdown, had been promoted to deputy director of the county bureau.

A deputy director showing up at this hour meant something was wrong.

Li Kaibian kicked Li Ye: "Shut up. Follow us."

Fine. In front of these three, Li Ye had no rights—he could only obey, obey, obey.

They got in the car and drove quickly to the back gate of the instant noodle factory, slipping inside quietly.

At this point, Li Ye had a pretty good idea what was going on.

He whispered: "Grandpa, you deliberately left the car at the factory, waiting for that guy who smashed it last time to strike again, right?"

Li Kaibian grunted: "Hmph. Smart kid."

Li Ye added: "But how can you be sure he'll come? It's winter—we're not going to stand here all night for nothing, are we?"

Then his grandfather Li Zhongfa spoke.

"No solid intelligence, no victory. I've already scouted—he'll strike soon. Stay quiet, follow your father, don't scare off the enemy."

Li Ye followed behind Li Kaibian, creeping toward the Lu Xun.

Li Kaibian, in his forties, moved with surprising agility—no wonder he'd been a border reconnaissance soldier.

Aren't you three ex-soldiers overreacting, treating a petty vandal who smashed a car like a major threat?

At the ambush site, the four quickly took cover, waiting for the vandal to appear.

Li Kaibian whispered: "Xiao Ye, you're fastest—when he moves, jump out and pin him down. Don't let him actually break the car."

But Li Ye glanced at his father and shook his head: "If we don't break it, how do we make a big deal out of it? From now on, everyone follows my orders."

Zhao Yuanchao looked at his father-in-law, waiting for his command.

If it were a Shanghai sedan or a 212 Jeep, smashing a window wouldn't bother Zhao Yuanchao—but this car clearly cost a fortune. Breaking its glass made him wince.

Men love cars. Put yourself in his shoes: a car worth eighty years of your salary gets its window smashed—could you really not care?

Li Zhongfa thought for a moment and asked: "Xiao Ye, how much is that Jeep you drove back worth?"

Li Ye thought and replied: "I'm not sure exactly—it was bought with foreign exchange. Converted at the official rate, maybe one or two hundred thousand, but on the open market, thirty or forty thousand would still be snapped up."

Zhao Yuanchao sucked in a sharp breath: "My god, it's worth that much?"

(End of Chapter)

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