Chapter Forty: The Old Cadre

Qihuanchang, flustered and furious, cursed, “Jiangxiwen, what nonsense are you spouting? How could you say that…” As he spoke, his plump body quivered incessantly, the display appearing somewhat exaggerated. Compared to his eloquence at the beginning of the meeting, the naturalness of his gestures now had diminished, and Jiangxiwen, worried that Fan Qiang might see through their act, hurriedly said, “Fat Qi, I call you teacher out of respect, but you treat me like this. I don’t want to argue with you; let’s wait for Chairman Tian’s investigation to settle things!”

Fan Qiang quickly shot Tian Weidong a look, and Tian Weidong gave a heavy grunt: “Xiao Fan, find out what’s going on and report back to me!” With that, he swept his sleeve and strode off.

Qihuanchang glanced at Fan Qiang, who spread his hands in an expression of helplessness, one that was shrewdly played. To Jiangxiwen, it signified resignation at a friend reaping what he’d sown; to Qihuanchang, it represented the frustration of their scheme to embezzle the software’s proceeds being exposed.

After this exchange, Fan Qiang and Jiangxiwen called out, then led Qihuanchang away from the school. After all, he’d coaxed Qihuanchang over the phone to collaborate in a money-making ruse; if Qihuanchang spilled the beans, Jiangxiwen would be implicated. In that case, no matter what, he would lose Jiangxiwen’s trust.

At five that afternoon, Qihuanchang called Jiangxiwen, asking with a laugh how his acting had been. Jiangxiwen replied, “The first half was flawless—masterful, really.”

Qihuanchang chuckled, “Of course! Haven’t you seen where I, Fat Qi, used to hang out?”

“Where?” Jiangxiwen asked absently.

“Uh, just boasting!” Qihuanchang seemed eager to change the subject and quickly said, “I feel like Tian Weidong isn’t an entrepreneur at all—more like a programmer.”

Jiangxiwen, troubled about how to explain recognizing Tian Weidong, followed Qihuanchang’s lead: “Yes, I feel the same. Could it be that Fan Qiang was audacious enough to find an imposter?”

On the other end, Qihuanchang slapped his forehead and exclaimed, “That’s right, it’s entirely possible. I’ll go dig up some old newspapers to see what Tian Weidong actually looks like.” He hung up the phone right after.

Jiang Hong was away on a business trip, and his mother was still at work. Jiangxiwen had already told Wang Yanan that he’d be dining at a classmate’s house tonight; Wang Yanan didn’t ask further, knowing his son wouldn’t get up to any mischief.

He boarded the bus, and after a quarter hour, it stopped at the entrance to the Medical University. Another fifteen minutes’ walk brought him to the municipal government residential compound. Jiangxiwen was no stranger to this place: though Jiang Hong’s official position wasn’t high, he worked at the municipal committee, and when Jiangxiwen was younger, he’d lived here.

Passing the lotus pond and circling a patch of lush woodland, he arrived at Building Seven in the compound. This building was set apart, surrounded on all sides by flowers and greenery. Building Seven itself was wrapped in blooms; it had four floors and three units, each unit housing two families. The lower two floors belonged to one household, while the upper two, plus a platform, belonged to another.

A rare duplex in 1993.

As Jiangxiwen approached the courtyard, a uniformed guard at the gate asked politely yet firmly, “Young man, who are you looking for?”

“Zhang Ya.” Jiangxiwen was quite pleased with the guard’s manner; after all, this was where senior municipal leaders lived, and the guards were leagues above those at the Zhenxing Teahouse.

“Oh, I see. Wait a moment.” The guard pressed a button on the door, and an elderly voice came through: “What is it?”

“Sir, a student is here to see your granddaughter.”

“Alright, let him in.” The elder’s voice carried a hint of authority.

Jiangxiwen suddenly sensed something amiss. The guard’s posture and the elder’s tone made it seem less like the residence of current municipal leaders, and more like the home of a retired official. He feigned innocence and asked, “Uncle, do all the residents here serve as mayors?”

“Young man, I can’t say. If you want to know, ask your classmate,” the guard replied, then gazed forward in silence.

Jiangxiwen could only shrug and enter the compound, heading toward Zhang Ya’s house.

“Jiangxiwen, you’re here!” Before he even reached the stairs, a lovely girl darted out from the second unit’s entrance, clad in a yellow-patterned jacket and a pink scarf, clearly dressed with care.

“Zhang Ya, no way! Changed your style—dressing up for your husband?” Jiangxiwen teased without filter, when another voice rang out from the stairwell: “You’re Xiao Ya’s savior, so of course she has to look her best.”

Jiangxiwen turned to see Deputy Mayor Zhang Yong. Most children would be flustered meeting such an official, especially after joking about the mayor’s daughter.

But Jiangxiwen was no ordinary child. He smiled and replied, “Savior is overstating it. Having you, Uncle Zhang, personally receive me is already quite an honor. Just think, when I go out, I can say the deputy mayor invited me to dinner and received me himself—what prestige!”

Zhang Yong laughed, finding Jiangxiwen quite unique. “Jiangxiwen, let’s not stand here chatting. Come inside, it’s cold.”

This deputy mayor had no airs, his speech friendly and relaxed, not at all like what Jiangxiwen had seen on TV or during their last hospital meeting. Jiangxiwen was surprised—perhaps it was because he’d saved Zhang Ya.

In his memory, leaders always wore stern expressions; Jiangxiwen called these faces the “six-party look.” In his previous life, he believed his father, Jiang Hong, never advanced because he hadn’t cultivated such a face.

Zhang Ya’s home was spacious. The first floor was a reception hall, with redwood chairs and furniture, all in an antique style, dignified and elegant.

An elderly man with snowy hair sat in an armchair reading the newspaper. Seeing Jiangxiwen enter, he set aside his magazine and asked, “Hmm, are you Jiangxiwen?”

“Yes, Grandpa,” Jiangxiwen nodded with a smile. From his voice, Jiangxiwen recognized him as the one who’d spoken to the guard earlier. He seemed every bit the high-ranking official, though Jiangxiwen found such old-school dignitaries dull—all sharing the same face.

“Good, sit down!” The old man nodded and resumed reading his magazine. Jiangxiwen was familiar with this publication; his father, Jiang Hong, was its editor-in-chief.