Chapter 351: The Trip to Maoyun (Part 2)

At seven o’clock the next morning, Hou Weidong knew that Secretary Zhu Yan always woke up on time. He drove to Zhu Yan’s residence, arriving at exactly seven fifteen—the usual time for Zhu Yan’s breakfast. From upstairs, Hou Weidong called up.

“Secretary Zhu, what are you having for breakfast? I noticed a Lanzhou noodle shop on the street with a nice atmosphere. Let me treat you to some noodles.”

Back in Yiyang, Zhu Yan usually ate breakfast at home. Once, he had casually remarked, “Drinking milk and porridge every morning is good for health, but sometimes I really crave a bowl of beef noodles on the street. It’s such a pleasure.”

Zhu Yan had held onto that simple wish for a long time, but it was difficult to fulfill in Yiyang. As the County Party Secretary, he appeared on television daily, making him recognizable to almost everyone in the county town. Eating out on the street meant losing his freedom. On two occasions, when he and Hou Weidong ate noodles at a small stall, the vendor had pulled him aside to report local issues, leaving Zhu Yan in an awkward position.

Knowing these details, Hou Weidong had rushed over early in the morning to invite Zhu Yan for Lanzhou noodles.

Since arriving in Maoyun, Zhu Yan had mostly eaten porridge and steamed buns at the Prefectural Reception Center cafeteria. The menu was always the same, offering no variety, and he had grown tired of it. Hearing Hou Weidong’s suggestion, he agreed readily. “Good, let’s go eat noodles on the street.”

As he went downstairs, Zhu Yan thought to himself, “My old secretary is still the best. He understands people, is easy to work with, and gives me peace of mind.”

After arriving in Maoyun, Zhu Yan had found an excuse to change secretaries. Jiang Kun was decent enough, but they were still in a period of adjustment.

By seven thirty, Maoyun was just waking up from the night. Most storefronts remained closed. Only breakfast shops of various sizes were open for business. Sanitation workers were finishing their early morning sweep, but because so many people were eating out, white napkins littered the streets, creating a messy and somewhat jarring sight.

Zhu Yan rolled down his car window and silently watched the city, still drowsy and half-asleep. The scenes from yesterday’s meeting flooded back into his mind. He reflected inwardly, “Zhe Ming and Li Jianlin each hold their own ground, and both have valid points. Zhe Ming emphasizes livelihood, while Li Jianlin emphasizes development. In reality, livelihood and development are interconnected. Without development, citizens’ lives cannot improve. At this stage, where Maoyun is poor and lacks resources, we should prioritize development. Once the government has funds, we can better address livelihood issues.”

Deep down, Zhu Yan agreed with Li Jianlin’s view. The shantytowns in Maoyun could not be touched for now; the new city needed to be developed first. Only when the government had money could it solve the problems of laid-off enterprises. Development was the foundation for improving people’s lives. At the same time, he could understand Zhe Ming’s feelings. As the Prefectural Party Secretary who had worked in Maoyun for twenty years, Zhe Ming could no longer remain indifferent to the poverty, chaos, and even filth of the old industrial areas.

However, the debate between the two during the Standing Committee meeting had quickly spread throughout Maoyun. Zhu Yan had heard a rumor: “Li Jianlin is only interested in vanity projects and doesn’t care about the people’s survival.” Hearing this, and recalling the recent political turbulence in Maoyun, Zhu Yan felt a quiet worry. This worry lacked concrete evidence, like a fog—he could feel it but could not fully see through it.

They entered a bustling Lanzhou noodle shop. The hall was filled with the authentic aroma of noodles, and the sound of slurping—“huchi, huchi”—was constant. Such sounds would be considered rude in a high-end hotel, but in a Lanzhou noodle shop, they felt warm and familiar. Everyone slurped together, eating with gusto, and no one paid attention to table manners.

This was the essence of Chinese dining. Some had proposed reforming Chinese meals by introducing individual servings. While this might be more hygienic than traditional shared dining, it would lose the unique charm of traditional Chinese cuisine.

Zhu Yan enjoyed this traditional atmosphere. As the Deputy Secretary of the Maoyun Prefecture, he appeared frequently on television, but his face had not yet become deeply ingrained in the public consciousness. Therefore, when he sat in the restaurant, no one recognized him.

When the steaming hot Lanzhou noodles were served, he ate heartily, joining in with the “huchi, huchi” slurping sounds. After finishing, Zhu Yan’s forehead was slightly sweaty, and he felt a sense of comfort spreading through every pore.

On the drive back to the Prefectural Reception Center, Zhu Yan said, “From last year to the beginning of this year, several leaders of the Yiyang Prefecture were placed under ‘shuanggui’ investigation. All of it stemmed from the phosphate mine scandal. The waters are deep there, and if things go wrong, more people could be implicated. The new leadership team is not yet well-coordinated, and I am still adapting.”

Although he did not speak too explicitly, these were Zhu Yan’s sincere words. Because Prefectural Party Secretary Zhe Ming managed affairs in great detail, Zhu Yan, as the Deputy Secretary in charge of organization, had little say in major personnel appointments. Zhu Yan was not entirely satisfied with the current situation, but having just arrived in Maoyun, the timing was not ripe. He had to practice the strategy of hiding his strength and biding his time.

Hou Weidong drove while listening attentively.

Although Hou Weidong had not made specific requests during this trip to Maoyun, Zhu Yan understood his intentions. He took the initiative to say, “My suggestion is that you stay in Shazhou for now. I have mentioned your case to Huang Zidi, and he has promised to recommend you at the appropriate time.”

“Thank you, Secretary Zhu, for your concern.”

“The political landscape is ever-changing. Destiny is always in the hands of others. We must all learn to wait.” Zhu Yan said this with a sigh. He was a man who controlled his emotions well and rarely expressed such sentiments to subordinates. But facing Hou Weidong, a special subordinate, he felt relaxed and allowed himself this moment of reflection.

When Zhu Yan returned to his residence, Jiang Kun was already waiting in the courtyard. Seeing Zhu Yan and Hou Weidong leave so early in the morning, Jiang Kun felt a twinge of jealousy. He thought to himself, “The relationship between Hou Weidong and Zhu Yan has gone beyond what is normal between a secretary and a leader. Hou Weidong is truly formidable. I wonder how he managed to achieve this.”

During this trip to Maoyun, Hou Weidong had gained a basic understanding of Zhu Yan’s current situation. He realized that transferring to Maoyun was not suitable in the short term. Like Zhu Yan, he adopted a strategy of hiding his strength and biding his time. The summer of 1998 passed without significant waves.

During this summer, construction began on the agricultural research base under the New Management Committee. Hou Weidong occasionally visited the site, but otherwise, he left everything to Deputy Director Zhou Yongtai. Although Zhou Yongtai had been a deputy director for many years, this was his first time dealing with a construction project of such investment scale. As the entrusted representative of the client, he visited the construction site almost every day, which gave Hou Weidong great peace of mind.

Hou Weidong’s several quarries on Qinglin Mountain were doing well again during this period. The provincial highway from Shazhou to Maoyun had been fully activated. Quarries like Gubeiwan, Yinggang, and Xiaowan were bustling with traffic, like flowing water and dragons of horses. Business was thriving.

Over the past few years, many small quarries had sprung up on Qinglin Mountain. Initially, the Gravel Association had some restraining power, but later, village and community cadres all wanted to run their own quarries. As a result, small quarries proliferated like mushrooms after rain. These small quarries operated irregularly and frequently had accidents. Over the years, at least a company’s worth of able-bodied men in Qinglin had died in safety accidents at quarries and coal mines.

When all was said and done, only the Gubeiwan and Yinggang quarries had never had any fatalities. People in Qinglin said that Hou Weidong must be good at feng shui. The quarries he chose were the best fortune spots in Qinglin—profitable and safe.

Hou Weidong did not explain this rumor, allowing it to circulate and maintaining an air of mystery. In fact, he knew very well that his high investment in quarry equipment and safety, along with the strict implementation of safety regulations, was the key. Most of his employees were veterans who had formed a habit of safe production over the years. When small quarries tried to poach his workers, these employees would shake their heads firmly at the poor working conditions elsewhere and refuse to leave.

Money was important, but life was more important. This was a bloody lesson learned on Qinglin Mountain.

As for the Huofu Coal Mine, because the Maoyun Power Plant paid its funds promptly, and many small coal mines in Quanlingxi had been shut down, the mine had become self-sustaining. It no longer needed to draw funds from the quarries on Qinglin Mountain, which gave Hou Weidong considerable relief.

Now lying low in Yiyang, with a steady stream of cash flow, he felt much more secure. Sometimes he even called himself lucky: “If I had been assigned to a county-level agency back then, I certainly wouldn’t have these quarries. My financial situation would be much worse. If I relied solely on my salary and encountered setbacks in my career, it would have been disastrous.”

There were many “old benches” in county-level agencies—veteran officials who constantly complained and were dissatisfied with the status quo. But if asked to leave the agency, they would absolutely refuse. The reason was simple: “Old benches” were ordinary cadres without real power, relying on a fixed salary. After working for over a decade, they had no capital and no business experience. How could they survive in the market?

Thinking of “old benches” like Old Zhan from the Organization Department, Hou Weidong felt three parts sympathy, three parts understanding, and three parts luck.

As for Yang Liu, at the end of summer, she received an official transfer order, which was even better than expected. She was transferred to the General Affairs Division of the Prefectural Party Committee Office. Before leaving, the mid-level and above officials of the Yiyang County New Management Committee held a farewell dinner for her. Yang Liu showed her bold side, refusing to turn down any drinks, and ended up drinking quite a bit. After returning home, she called Hou Weidong. But when the call connected, she didn’t speak. Hou Weidong asked, “Hello? Hello? Yang Liu, can’t you hear me?” After asking several times, Yang Liu finally said, “Director Hou, I’m going to report for duty in Shazhou tomorrow. Yang Dajin is sending me there.”

Normally, for an ordinary cadre like Yang Liu to change jobs, there would be no need for the Director of the County Party Committee Office to personally escort her. However, since Yang Liu was being transferred to the Municipal Party Committee Office—a critical position—Director Yang Dajin personally saw her off. Having someone from Yiyang working in the core department of the Municipal Party Committee was, of course, a useful resource. At the very least, information would flow more smoothly.

Hou Weidong had experienced this himself. He had a good relationship with Ren Xiaowei. When he started working at the New Management Committee, Ren Xiaowei often tipped him off in advance. Although they were in the same building after he transferred to the Science and Technology Commission, their phone calls decreased somewhat. However, when they met, Ren Xiaowei was still very enthusiastic, much better than those who were overly opportunistic.

“I won’t see you off,” Hou Weidong said, hearing that Yang Liu’s voice sounded unusual. He guessed she might have been drinking. He wanted to give her some instructions, but the words died in his throat. Instead, he said, “Let’s keep in touch when I return to Shazhou.”

“Director Hou, take care.”

After hanging up, Yang Liu sat dazed for a long while before going to wash up.