Chapter 816

“Old Gu wants to borrow a phone?”

“Yes, I need to discuss some matters about project acquisition with the ministry—it seems quite important.”

Hearing Gu Secretary casually ask to borrow his phone, Li Ye paused, surprised.

He was astonished at how brazen the man was.

Just moments ago, the man was badmouthing him at the stairwell, and now he comes to borrow a phone?

But before Li Ye could speak, Professor Zhao muttered as if unconsciously: “Why call the ministry at this hour? They’ve all gone home.”

“Someone in the ministry works overtime.”

Gu Secretary felt embarrassed—people say you see through something but don’t say it aloud; how clueless is this old man?

Old Gu is Li Ye’s superior; helping him is a sign of favor.

Li Ye smiled and pulled out his phone: “All for the project, I understand. Do you know how to use this? First press the number, then this call button.”

Gu Secretary hurried to memorize the procedure, but Li Ye spoke too fast—he had to ask again: “Deputy Factory Director Li, could you repeat that for me?”

Li Ye cheerfully said: “Don’t go through all that trouble. Just tell me the number—I’ll dial it for you, then hand it to Old Gu.”

Gu Secretary’s expression flickered with unease: “I don’t know the number! I’ll just take it and try—then I’ll call you if it doesn’t work.”

Li Ye handed the phone over without hesitation: “Alright, go ahead and try. If there’s any problem, call me.”

Gu Secretary took the phone and left, delighted.

But when Li Ye turned back, he noticed Professor Zhao frowning, as if wanting to speak but holding back.

Li Ye teased: “What’s wrong, Professor Zhao? Are you unwell?”

Professor Zhao sighed: “Even if this phone belongs to your Japanese friend, don’t be so careless. If you rack up a huge phone bill, they’ll think you’re Li Ye—greedy and lacking restraint.”

Professor Zhao was right—long-distance calls in 1987 were expensive, international calls even more so, and with mobile communication surcharges, a minute could cost a regular worker half a month’s salary.

But Li Ye brushed it off: “Hey, they said it’s all for the project’s smooth introduction!”

Professor Zhao sneered: “Pfft. If it were really about the project, why not use the hotel phone? He’s probably calling for personal business, taking advantage of your youth and reluctance to refuse.”

“Hehehe~”

“Laugh all you want! If he keeps it all night and doesn’t return it, you’ll be crying too late.”

“Hahahaha~”

Li Ye laughed heartily, playing the role of a naive young man perfectly.

But was he really that naïve?

Were Old Gu, Professor Zhao, and the others the ones who were “too young”?

Gu Secretary’s reaction just now clearly showed he didn’t want Li Ye to know who the call was to.

The more he tried to hide it, the more interested Li Ye became.

Times progress, technology advances—and the elderly are always slow to accept new things.

In 1987, mainland China’s telephone system had just begun digital upgrades; many places still relied on human operators saying, “Hello, where would you like to connect?”

This backward system had one advantage: unless you had powerful connections, you couldn’t check a phone’s call records.

“You want call records? Show me your letter of introduction. Don’t come here with some unit letter—need an upper-level one.”

But in Japan?

Even if you made a hundred calls, Li Ye could just ask A Min to check with the telecom company—and get every detail clear.

So Gu Secretary and the others had no idea about overseas telecom service standards—or Japanese customer service. Otherwise, they’d never have dared borrow it.

The next day, the inspection team began concrete negotiations with Mitsubishi, covering delivery methods for complete production molds, technical documentation, and technical guidance fees.

According to Ma Zhaoxian’s plan, after Factory One received the full set of molds, he hoped Mitsubishi would send personnel to guide installation on-site—but the cost was included in the five million U.S. dollars.

But Mitsubishi flatly refused, quoting a fee Ma Zhaoxian found utterly unacceptable.

Ma Zhaoxian, having discussed overseas tech firms’ practices with Li Ye multiple times, was prepared—but Old Gu was displeased.

“Charging by the hour, demanding foreign currency payment, and forbidding mainland workers from observing the debugging process—are we paying for a father?”

“And you want payment before delivery? What if we ship back a pile of junk? Didn’t the Fourth Machinery Ministry suffer that exact loss? We can’t ignore the lesson.”

“Exactly! Though the five million came from Factory One, we’re all connected by bone and sinew—if this project fails, the entire unit will suffer losses. Why not go back and hold a factory-wide meeting to discuss?”

A chorus of naysayers chattered endlessly—each one hoping to avoid blame rather than seek success. Ma Zhaoxian nearly lost his temper before finally silencing them.

But after this disruption, Mitsubishi likely sensed something, and the day’s talks progressed slowly—by the end, only one-third of the original plan was settled.

“Though the headquarters has oversight rights, this project is under my leadership. Tomorrow, I won’t bring those people along. If I get punished later, I’ll take full responsibility—otherwise, this will never end.”

Back at the hotel, Ma Zhaoxian, Lu Zhizhang, and Liu Muhan found Li Ye to discuss excluding those men from tomorrow’s talks—even if responsibility came later, Ma Zhaoxian would shoulder it alone.

But Li Ye lazily replied: “Why rush? They’re ministry experts sent to oversee us. Let them talk for two days—give them face. If it still doesn’t work, we can sideline them later.”

Ma Zhaoxian and Lu Zhizhang were anxious; Liu Muhan was even more so: “Big nephew, why are you dragging your feet now? Tomorrow’s Friday—they rest on Saturday. If we don’t finish, we lose another week.”

“So what if it’s next week?”

Li Ye smiled faintly: “Let’s hold out till Tuesday. On Tuesday, I’ll be the bad guy—and shut them all up.”

“.”

Ma Zhaoxian and Lu Zhizhang exchanged glances and reluctantly accepted Li Ye’s plan—they knew who truly called the shots on this project.

But Liu Muhan still worried, whispering: “Yesterday, when I went out with you for takeout, Old Gu asked Xiao Hu to make a call back to the mainland. Xiao Hu said he didn’t handle funds, and long-distance calls at the hotel required cash—so they couldn’t make it.”

“Li Ye, think—if they’d made that call and exaggerated the situation to the ministry, [57] and the ministry suddenly issued an order, would we really dare to say, ‘The general in the field ignores the emperor’s decree’?”

The department head got hot-headed and gave us an order—does that mean we really have to play the game of ‘the general abroad ignores the sovereign’s command’?”

“Hehe, no, I trust my judgment. They just want to stay longer in Japan.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“I’m guessing.”

Was Li Ye guessing?

Of course not.

He already held a call log proving Old Gu had dialed a private number yesterday—and Li Ye recognized it: He Xue, Du Ye’s wife.

When Li Ye captured Cui Aiguo, he’d contacted her and knew she still handled foreign exchange transactions with Japan.

And last night, Old Gu made another call to a Japanese number Li Ye didn’t recognize—but he’d already sent Lao Song to investigate it.

After all, Du Ye and Chu Yunling were on the same line. If Old Gu was here for “quick wealth,” he’d likely end up in Chu Yunling’s hands—and Lao Song could uncover more details.

Why did Li Ye say they’d wait until Tuesday?

Because America’s Black Monday was Japan’s Tuesday.

When that day came, unless you avoided stocks and futures entirely, once you touched them, you’d have no mind left for anything else.