Chapter 76

Li Xuewu withdrew his hand from Secretary Yang’s grip, sat up straight, and said, “Certainly. I will regularly report my ideological developments to the organization.”

The deputy factory director turned to Fu Bin sitting behind him and said, “Young people are full of energy, understand political orientation, and are ideologically advanced. Your Security Department must have the courage to promote them and quickly change the old ways of the Security Department.”

This amounted to criticism from factory leadership toward the Security Department’s work.

Fu Bin nodded in agreement, bent over, leaned close to Deputy Factory Director and Secretary Yang, and whispered, “Dear leaders, I’m preparing to recommend Li Xuewu as Head of the Security Section. Do you think it’s appropriate?”

Secretary Yang paused for a moment and said, “Appointing young people must be handled with caution—it’s about protecting them. But our revolutionary work demands young cadres who are ideologically mature, politically steadfast, and possess a tough and resolute style to serve as vanguards in the youth shock brigades.”

Deputy Factory Director knew this was Secretary Yang’s approval. Since he oversaw the Security Department, he’d handle it himself, so he turned to Fu Bin and said, “Submit the report before Monday’s office meeting.”

Fu Bin replied, “Yes.”

He then sat down and continued listening as Deputy Factory Director and Secretary Yang chatted.

Li Xuewu had excellent hearing and heard every subtle move by Fu Bin and the others, but pretended not to, focusing his attention on the crowd around him.

The conversation between Deputy Factory Director and Secretary Yang often included Li Xuewu.

Li Xuewu’s speech had been refined through countless trials and shaped by the post-era environment; even a simple remark could make the two burst into laughter while prompting deep thought.

Dong Wenhua sat in the third row with a deputy section chief, watching his disciple salute him and receive favor from Deputy Factory Director and others, feeling deeply satisfied.

Thinking of the recent investigation and Wang Yimin’s afternoon report, he grew more and more pleased with Li Xuewu, more and more convinced his judgment and recommendation were right.

Dong Wenhua also noticed Fu Bin’s subtle actions. Though he didn’t know what was said, he saw Secretary Yang glance at Li Xuewu—clearly it had something to do with him.

The only position currently tied to Li Xuewu was Head of the Security Section. It seemed his student was about to rise rapidly.

Li Xuewu, Li Huai, and the others were chatting merrily, while in front, Qin Jingru was whispering to Qin Huaiju.

Qin Jingru tilted her head and asked her cousin, “Who’s that guy behind us?”

Qin Huaiju naturally knew who she meant and whispered, “Lower your voice. The older ones are factory leaders. The young man is the Head of the Factory Security Squad—police.”

Qin Jingru didn’t know how high a “squad head” rank was, but she knew “police,” so she shrank back, embarrassed.

Qin Huaiju herself had only a vague understanding of the Security Squad—it was economic police, not regular police, and held no great authority.

She brushed off her sister and remembered that Banggeng had arrived so early—he surely hadn’t done his homework.

“Banggeng, have you done your homework?”

Banggeng sounded almost indignant, shouting back at Qin Huaiju, “Mom, it’s not that I didn’t write it—our Chinese teacher assigned an essay titled ‘Twilight.’ I wrote four hundred words, but I can’t finish the ending right. The teacher told me to revise it.”

Qin Huaiju’s education level was severely limited, so she gently guided her son: “Every time you go out to play, don’t you stay out until the sun sets? You’ve watched twilight so many times—how can you still not write about it?”

The conversation between Banggeng and Qin Huaiju reached the ears of Deputy Factory Director and the others.

They were seated close by, and Banggeng’s voice was loud.

Secretary Yang, eager to join in, asked Li Xuewu sitting in the same row, “Xuewu, I hear you graduated from high school. How would you describe ‘twilight’?”

Hearing this, Qin Huaiju’s family turned around. The section chiefs behind them all strained to listen. Workers nearby stared in curiosity.

Dong Wenhua had high hopes for this disciple and wanted to hear what Li Xuewu would say.

Li Xuewu smiled at the turning Banggeng, thinking: You really know how to time it—you sit down beside me and immediately throw me a challenge.

Li Xuewu told Secretary Yang, “Twilight differs in every season, each with its own hue. Now it’s late autumn—write: ‘The sun sets, falling into the glittering starry wilds; the world suddenly grows late, the mountains and rivers already autumn.’”

Dong Wenhua silently praised—Li Xuewu had passed Secretary Yang’s test.

Secretary Yang nodded and said, “Xuewu’s cultural level is sufficient. Very good.”

Deputy Factory Director also nodded with a smile.

This remark—“cultural level is sufficient”—was recognition of Li Xuewu’s progress. Without culture, without advancement, one could not become a cadre.

The workers around didn’t understand, but since the leaders praised it, it must be excellent.

Banggeng understood Li Xuewu’s words.

After all, he was in fourth grade. He silently memorized Li Xuewu’s phrase and told Qin Huaiju, “I’ll tell our Chinese teacher.”

He then dashed off.

Banggeng’s Chinese teacher had come to the factory to watch the movie—seeing a film was so rare now that everyone nearby came.

Soon after, Banggeng trudged back, head drooping.

Seeing her son’s unhappiness, Qin Huaiju was puzzled—had Li Xuewu’s words been bad? Had Secretary Yang and the others not appreciated them?

The Chinese teacher was a professional—he must have recognized the twilight description as poor.

Qin Huaiju gently touched Banggeng’s shoulder and asked, “What’s wrong? Didn’t you use that line about stars and autumn?”

Banggeng, feeling wronged, told her, “I used it... the Chinese teacher said my essay is a golden-rimmed shit bowl.”

Everyone around burst into laughter.

Deputy Factory Director had just taken a sip of water from his secretary’s hand. Hearing the boy’s words, he spat it out instantly, choking and coughing.

Rebirth: Challenging the Great Era

Qin Huaiju, furious at her son being mocked, snapped, “Who’s your Chinese teacher? I’m going to find him!”

Banggeng mumbled, “Third Uncle from our courtyard.”

Qin Huaiju cursed loudly, “Third Uncle is such a no-good!”

The sky gradually darkened. The movie began. Everyone fell silent, watching.

The film’s picture quality and color were deeply moving. Though the plot wasn’t well structured, the actors’ skills were solid, the performers were beautiful, and the ethnic minority love story greatly enhanced the female lead’s appeal.

As the film played, Li Xuewu watched it in full for the first time.

This film was currently shown internally—a privilege granted to factory workers.

In Azhidi, Yunnan, there lived a Yi girl named Ashima, wise and beautiful, in love with a brave, simple young man named Ahei.

After the flood, Ahei cried out in despair for her name, but Ashima had transformed into a beautiful stone statue, eternally standing in the Stone Forest, enduring for millennia, forever remaining among mortals.

To Li Xuewu, the film felt confusing, chaotic.

It was normal. This was a film adapted from an ethnic minority mythic epic—myths often contain irrational elements, and it emphasized ethnic songs. For someone who’d seen post-era films with advanced special effects and decades of refinement, Li Xuewu’s confusion was natural.

In fact, this film was officially released in 1982. The female lead had also starred in Five Golden Flowers and was then considered the most beautiful actress in the film studio. She lived a good life in her later years.

Thinking of this, Li Xuewu reminded himself: Be humble, cautious, speak little, act prudently.