Chapter Ninety: A New Official Takes Office

Three months later, the workers’ auditorium of the fertilizer plant was noisy with uproar.

Inside the hall, Liu Laisheng was bustling about with uncommon zeal, arranging the venue one moment and checking the sound system the next, leaving nothing overlooked.

Down below, Sister Gao cracked sunflower seeds and teased Widow Chen beside her.

“Hey there, Little Chen, just look at your man. He looks as if he wants two more wheels of wind and fire strapped to his legs—does he think he’s the real Nezha? Anyone who doesn’t know better would think it’s Liu Laisheng who’s about to turn the world upside down now that Feng Tao’s father is going to be the plant director.”

Widow Chen heard this and instantly bristled. Gao was always making jokes at her expense with Liu Laisheng, and she was not about to sit there and take it.

“Sister Gao, there’s a time to eat and a time to keep your mouth shut. Director Liu and I have nothing whatsoever to do with each other. Besides, with that fat, overfed look of his, I couldn’t digest him if I tried. He’s nowhere near your man. I like my Brother Zhang—understanding, and, on top of that, an honest man.”

Widow Chen was famous for the force of her voice, and her words drew the eyes of the people in the front rows. When they saw it was her, they all pressed their lips together, secretly amused.

“Spare me,” Sister Gao laughed. “What sort of thing are you, anyway? Neither fish nor fowl. I ought to spit a face full of melon seed shells at you.”

“My man wouldn’t even be worthy of your sharp eye. I say you’d do better to climb straight onto Plant Director Feng’s high branch. By then, even that little whelp Feng Tao would have to call you Mom when he sees you.”

“All right then, Sister Gao. When that day comes, I’ll make sure my Brother Zhang becomes deputy factory director. He’s been wronged for so many years—he deserves at least one chance to hold his head high.”

After all these years of bantering with Widow Chen, Sister Gao had never once won. Laughing and cursing, she gave Widow Chen a few playful thumps. You little minx.

Zhang Hao, Cui Yue, and the others looked listless, all but nodding off.

“Well, fellows, what do you think? Did Section Chief Zhang call it or what? That old Feng really has become the top man. Director Chen has truly let his last season be tarnished—why on earth did he choose someone like that as his successor?”

Da Zhuang knew nothing of official intrigues and could not make sense of the hidden currents. Hearing Zhang Hao say this, he nodded in strong agreement and turned an inquiring look toward Cui Yue.

“What’s so strange about that? Some things aren’t for Director Chen to decide. Sure, a recommendation matters, but the real key, plain and simple, is having someone behind you. Without that, everything else is just empty talk.”

Zhang Hao deflated at once. For men like them, without money and without connections, ordinary as dust, they were unlikely ever in this lifetime to sit at the speaking dais in a meeting hall.

Better yet, they might end up standing there to make a self-criticism.

“Fellows, don’t you think our prospects look grim? Now that Feng Tao’s got the upper hand, are we still going to have any good days ahead?”

Zhang Hao sighed.

Cui Yue, however, looked utterly unconcerned. He did not put that brat Feng Tao in his eyes at all. Soldier against soldier, water against earth—Cui Yue had stubbornness baked into his bones, and he would rather die than admit defeat.

Liu Laisheng was drenched in sweat. He had no time at all to wipe the beads from his forehead as he bent toward the microphone and said, “Ahem, ahem, hello, hello. Everyone, please quiet down for a moment and observe the discipline of the hall. The leaders are about to enter…”

After that, the leadership procession formally took their seats.

To put it plainly, the meeting’s theme was nothing more than Director Chen’s honorable retirement and Plant Director Feng’s official assumption of office as the fertilizer plant’s new chief. Though the people below whispered among themselves, they had no real objection to the organization’s appointment. Each of them was busy thinking only of the little patch of ground beneath their own feet. Perhaps personnel would soon be shuffled again; why make trouble for themselves now? The wisest course was to stand aside and choose the proper camp. Liu Laisheng, with his keen political nose, had already attached himself to Plant Director Feng long ago.

Cui Yue and the others had lost all interest. They yawned over and over, while Feng Tao’s crowd, by contrast, was in rare high spirits that day. The smug satisfaction on their faces made it seem as though the one receiving the organization’s appointment was not Feng Tao’s father at all, but Feng Tao himself.

Then Zhang Hu came over and said quietly to Da Zhuang, “Da Zhuang, it’s your mother on the phone. Hurry to the guard room. Sounds like it’s urgent.”

Da Zhuang sprang up and ran for the guard room at once. Cui Yue and Zhang Hao followed him; the auditorium had become unbearable anyway. The atmosphere inside made everyone feel uneasy all over.

When Da Zhuang answered the call from his mother, he learned that his maternal uncle had suffered a sudden calamity and was lying in critical condition at the county hospital.

Hearing this, Cui Yue and the others hurried onto the old Forever bicycle and rushed toward the hospital as fast as they could. Even so, after all that frantic riding, they were still too late. Da Zhuang’s maternal uncle had been gravely wounded, and the doctors were powerless to save him.

By the time Da Zhuang arrived at the hospital in a dead run, his uncle’s body was already covered with a white sheet and sent to the mortuary. He had not even managed one last glance.

His uncle’s household was small and sparsely peopled, with only a daughter. Fortunately, Da Zhuang and the others were there. They helped handle the paperwork, kept busy with the arrangements, and took care of the funeral. In the end, the old custom was that when a person died, he should return to his native soil; otherwise, the soul would have nowhere to go.

At a time like this, when a good brother needed help, Cui Yue and Zhang Hao naturally did not hesitate. That very night, they accompanied Da Zhuang in escorting his uncle’s body back to his hometown, Shangwan Village.

Shangwan Village had once been a low-lying tract of land, set in the rear mountains of Longyan, one bend among the rugged seven twists and eighteen turns. A river wound through the center and the village was built on both banks. The people were simple and honest, and from ancient times they had lived a life of quiet seclusion, free from contention.

Da Zhuang and the others traveled all the way there before finally reaching the old family courtyard where his uncle had lived. Death, it is said, ennobles a man, and once the villagers heard what had happened, relatives and neighbors alike came to help. Before nightfall, the mourning hall had already been erected.

The old four-sided courtyard of blue brick had been draped with white cloth and black gauze. Inside the mourning hall, lanterns burned brightly, solemn and grave, while the occasional sound of weeping drifted out clear and unmistakable.

The rural banquet feast, with its eight dishes and eight bowls, had long since been laid out on the tables, steaming hot. After a full day of travel, Cui Yue and the others were already so hungry they felt hollow right through. They ate like wolves and at last filled their bellies.

“Cui Yue, I’ve got to say, this food really is good! Try that little hen stewed over firewood—man, the taste is absolutely on point.”

Zhang Hao smacked his lips, still lingering in satisfaction.

Cui Yue glanced at the chicken bones on the table and shot him a look. “Try it? I didn’t even get to taste the hen’s feathers before you cleared the whole pot.”

“Uh… uh, did I? I was hungry too, so I wasn’t paying attention, not really. I was still thinking of you in my heart, you know.”

“Oh, sure. Since when have you ever shared food? When have you ever remembered me?”

Cui Yue could not be bothered to argue with him further. He had eaten too fast just now, and now his stomach felt tight and bloated. Since there was nothing else to do, he went out for a wander, treating it as a little digestive stroll.

The sky had not yet fully darkened. In the distance, the mountains rose in layer upon layer, thick with dark, vivid color. The scent of the forest was fresh and clean, refreshing the spirit.

Between two peaks, a river wound sinuously toward the horizon. Jagged rocks stood in clusters among the mountains, as though an iron axe had cleaved heaven and earth apart, making the slopes even steeper. Mist surged through the heights, and hidden currents swelled below.

“What a masterpiece of ink and wash! The scenery here is even more beautiful than before.”

At that moment, Cui Yue too was moved by the wondrous landscape of the mountains, and he spoke from the heart with a deep sigh of admiration.