Chapter Fifty-Two: Stirring Up Trouble for No Reason

Other people need two days to finish the work, but Cui Yue, diligent as he is, completes it in just one day. If this goes on for so long, how can anyone else survive? If you work hard, that’s your business, but if you threaten everyone’s livelihood, you’ve committed a grave taboo.

These few would love nothing more than for Cui Yue to suffer a great misfortune, to see him become a laughingstock. Ideally, it would be a clash of titans, so they could sit on the banks, sipping tea and eating sunflower seeds, watching the spectacle.

The fertilizer factory, following tradition, would halt production for a day on the twelfth of each month for comprehensive maintenance. All machines would stop running, everyone would set aside their usual tasks, and carry out a series of safety inspections, parts replacements, gear maintenance, circuit checks, and so on—discovering problems, searching for faults, eliminating hazards, ensuring production safety.

On this day, Master Qin and Cui Yue, along with the others, were busy beyond measure, dismantling the machines as they replaced the gears on the drive shaft.

“Master Qin, come over here! The camshaft on Number Seven is busted—come take a look!”

“All right, I’m coming.” Master Qin paused, handed his open-ended wrench to Feng Tao behind him, and said, “Little Feng, there’s an issue over there, I’ll go check it out. The gears here are already installed, you and Cui Yue fix the drum cover and the drainage pump.”

“No problem, got it. Just leave it to us.” Feng Tao pushed his cap back, stood at attention, and thumped his chest in assurance.

“Always fooling around!” Old Qin shot him a glare before walking off.

Feng Tao, wrench in hand, tapped the drum cover casually, making a metallic clanging sound, his eyes glinting mischievously as he watched Cui Yue.

“Hey, look at us—production workers are way better than being a watchdog. At least we’re skilled labor, not stuck at the factory gates every day sunbathing.”

This remark made Cui Yue’s anger flare; he snorted coldly. “Watch your mouth. Who are you calling a dog?”

Feng Tao feigned fear, sneering, “Oh dear, oh dear, someone’s angry—scares me so much! Hahaha.”

Cui Yue’s face darkened, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked.

Feng Tao said nothing more, turned away, and set the drum cover onto the machine. One hand twisted the wrench, the other pointed at Cui Yue. “Hey, stop standing there like an idiot. Come over here and help me put this on—I’ve got plenty more to do.”

Cui Yue shot Feng Tao a hateful look, picked up a socket wrench, fitted it over the nut, and tightened it with both hands, his voice icy. “Hurry up and screw it in.”

Feng Tao watched Cui Yue, smirking, and blew into his palm before calling out, “Yeah, tighten it up. Don’t let it slip.”

Just as he spoke, a sly smile crept onto Feng Tao’s lips. He twisted hard, and the wrench slipped off the nut, smashing down on Cui Yue’s hand.

“Ah!” Unprepared, Cui Yue received the blow—his hand burned with sharp pain, and he cried out, springing up from the ground, eyes glaring fiercely at Feng Tao.

Feng Tao wore an exaggerated look of surprise, his voice shrill. “Oh my, I’m so sorry, really—used too much force, it slipped, truly slipped.”

Cui Yue’s eyes nearly blazed with fury. The workers at the neighboring station heard the commotion and looked over, thinking something serious had happened. Cui Yue didn’t want to escalate things or have an unpleasant incident with this scoundrel in the workshop, so he forced himself to swallow his anger.

Feng Tao, unconcerned, picked up the wrench. “No problem, no problem. Let’s keep going. If there’s an issue, just speak up.”

Cui Yue didn’t want to explode, nor did he care to interact with such a scheming character. He simply stood by the machine, silently refastening the socket.

Feng Tao eyed Cui Yue, grinning wickedly, feeling delighted. He raised the wrench again, shaking it. In his mind, he thought, “You little brat, dare to oppose your Uncle Feng? I’ll make sure you regret it.”

He curled his lip, deliberately angling his hand to repeat the trick.

Cui Yue, seeing Feng Tao’s intentions, was ready this time. When he saw Feng Tao preparing to strike, he dropped his hands an inch and pushed back with his feet, retreating from beneath the machine.

With a clang, Feng Tao’s wrench struck the socket, hitting nothing.

“Feng Tao! You’re like a tiger in the temple—up to no good. If you want a fight, do it openly. There’s no need for sneaky tricks.”

Feng Tao spat on the ground, sneering, “So what? You don’t like it? I’ll do whatever I please. Just because Zhang Hu’s got your back doesn’t mean I won’t touch you.”

“Fine, let’s do it face to face. Stop acting spineless, always playing dirty.”

Cui Yue shot back.

Feng Tao’s eyes narrowed; suddenly, he attacked, swinging the wrench at Cui Yue’s head.

Having experienced Feng Tao’s tricks, Cui Yue was alert. As he spoke, he caught sight of Feng Tao’s hand moving. He knew a strike was coming.

He ducked, dodging the wrench, and punched Feng Tao hard in the chest.

Feng Tao hadn’t expected Cui Yue to be prepared and so quick; as soon as he moved, his chest received a heavy blow.

Coughing, Feng Tao clutched his chest, his body stiffening. “Damn it, I’ll kill you!”

No sooner had he spoken than he lunged, brandishing the wrench, wild and furious.

Cui Yue grabbed an empty tool bag at his feet, dodging and counterattacking.

Within moments, fists and feet flew, bodies tangled. Neither gained the upper hand; both sported bruised faces.

The nearby coworkers were astonished—the two were truly fighting in the workshop. No one expected the unremarkable Cui Yue to go toe-to-toe with the factory’s notorious scoundrel, Feng Tao. They couldn’t help but see him in a new light.

It took several workers considerable effort to separate them. Both emerged red-faced, necks bulging, sporting minor injuries, but luckily nothing serious.

Zhang Dehua and Master Qin, called by the commotion, took the two to the supervisor’s office for disciplinary action.

Feng Tao remained unfazed, acting as if nothing could bother him.

Zhang Dehua, furious, slammed the table and shouted, “What do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to overturn the world?”

Feng Tao, eyes sly, played the villain who complains first. “Supervisor Zhang, I was following Master Qin’s orders, had the drum cover all set up—a loyal heart, clear as the sun and moon. But Cui Yue said my wrench hit his hand and tried to make trouble for me.”

Cui Yue, hearing this, cursed the shamelessness—an evil man blaming others first. He didn’t bother to argue, nor did he think it worth talking to such a person, merely snorting coldly.