Chapter 35: Those with Hidden Motives

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Seeing Jiang Fan grimacing in pain, still finding the energy to argue with the doctor, and recalling how he had unhesitatingly carried two trays of food for someone with whom he had no personal connection, Vice President Tang felt his appreciation for Jiang Fan deepen even further. After the bandaging was done, he kindly asked Jiang Fan if he wanted something to eat before returning to the factory.

Jiang Fan, still unsatisfied after mocking the doctor, thought of the way the doctor had tried to ingratiate himself with Vice President Tang and bluntly refused, saying, “You people of such high standing offering me a meal—I'm afraid if I eat, you'll throw a javelin at me. As for the 137 yuan for medical expenses, I'll pay you back as soon as I get my salary.”

Once again met with a cold shoulder after his warm offer, Vice President Tang said nothing more. He escorted Jiang Fan back to the factory and then returned alone to his rented apartment outside.

With his hand in bandages and the wound throbbing, Jiang Fan found it hard to get comfortable. He didn’t fall asleep until the latter half of the night.

The next morning, a little after ten, just as he was sleeping soundly, someone knocked on the door of his dorm room. Reluctantly, Jiang Fan got up and opened the door to find the team leader, his left cheek still swollen, standing awkwardly at the threshold. Unable to restrain himself, Jiang Fan snapped, “Are you sick or something? Why are you here so early at my door?”

At the sight of Jiang Fan's menacing glare, the team leader instinctively covered his swollen face and stammered several times before finally managing to say, “The boss asked me to come and see what you’d like for lunch.”

“‘The boss, the boss, the boss,’” Jiang Fan mimicked sarcastically, “Is the boss your ancestor or something? You mutt, you can’t even speak clearly when you mention him!”

With that, he slammed the door shut.

Having come to carry out his mission, and now certain he wouldn’t be physically assaulted again, the team leader raised his voice a little and called out, “Deputy Manager Jiang: The boss wants to know what you’d like for lunch.”

Jiang Fan, thoroughly impatient, mocked, “Abalone and lobster—do you have any? Now get lost and stop disturbing my rest.” With that, he lay down, pulled the covers over his entire body, even shrouding his head, and went back to sleep.

“This bastard really is hurt,” the team leader muttered to himself with a hint of glee as he left the dormitory building.

Arriving at Chen Anlong’s office, he found Vice President Tang there as well. The team leader reported respectfully, “Boss: Deputy Manager Jiang says he wants abalone and lobster, and sneered that the factory doesn’t have them. He also mocked you as my ancestor and told me to get lost and stop bothering his rest.”

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From the team leader’s tone, Vice President Tang could tell he still harbored ulterior motives. He shot him a look of disdain, gave a cold laugh, and said nothing.

Chen Anlong was no fool. Seeing that the team leader was still trying to put Jiang Fan down, he glared at him and said, “If you can’t even handle such a simple task, I wonder how you were ever chosen as team leader. Get out.”

After the team leader left, Chen Anlong got up from his desk and moved to sit beside Vice President Tang at the coffee table. He gave a wry smile and said, “That troublemaker’s temper may be stubborn, but in a crisis he doesn’t back down. Facing two big thugs with machetes, he fought without hesitation. I still don’t know how he managed to escape when he was surrounded. A talent like that—if only his temperament were less wild.”

“If he weren’t so proud, you might not have seen his courage last night,” Vice President Tang replied. He hesitated, and decided not to say everything that was on his mind.

Chen Anlong, considering giving Jiang Fan a reward for his bravery, sounded him out: “He’s such a good fighter. What do you think about having him double as a team leader?”

“Others might covet that position, but he may not care for it,” Vice President Tang said, recalling how Jiang Fan had repeatedly rebuffed his own gestures of goodwill the day before.

“That’s true. The man is too proud. He deliberately violated factory rules as Deputy Manager. If he becomes team leader, we’ll be using up several extra tons of rice every month.”

Chen Anlong, who had intended to reward Jiang Fan, now let his own petty thoughts intrude, recalling how Jiang Fan had carried food for the workers.

“A few tons of rice are nothing compared to the human heart. People matter more than money, and talents hidden among these migrant workers are rare indeed,” Vice President Tang said, speaking with double meaning, though he offered no direct suggestion.

“How about inviting him to have lunch with us at noon? He’s just been injured and could use the nutrition.”

Vice President Tang waved a hand. “You do as you see fit, but I don’t think he’ll sit at the same table with us now. That’s my view.”

Seeing Chen Anlong’s hesitation about promoting Jiang Fan, Vice President Tang said nothing more and returned to his own office.

Seated at his desk, Vice President Tang bit the gold-plated pen he used for signing documents and fell into deep thought.

After a long while, he phoned the HR manager. “Go and discreetly find out which factory worker the little girl Deputy Manager Jiang took away yesterday is connected to. Try to get the information before noon.”

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“She’s the younger sister of A-Zhen from Sewing Line A. In fact, Deputy Manager Jiang went looking for her as soon as he came back to the factory yesterday afternoon,” the HR manager answered without hesitation, not questioning why Vice President Tang cared about this.

News of Jiang Fan’s altercation with the team leader at noon yesterday, which had not resulted in his dismissal and even led to Vice President Tang personally intervening to retain him, had spread rapidly through the factory. That afternoon, upon his return, every move he made drew the attention of those with their own agendas.

The HR manager was among these, which was why he was so well informed about Jiang Fan’s activities.

“Go find her now and tell her I have work matters to discuss with her. And remember to keep your mouth shut,” Vice President Tang instructed curtly—so gentle with Jiang Fan, yet showing no such warmth to the HR manager.

Jiang Fan, unable to get back to sleep after being awakened by the team leader, went to the cafeteria before the end of the workday.

Usually, the cafeteria didn't serve anyone before the official break. Unaware of the rules, Jiang Fan simply picked up a metal tray and served himself.

With his left hand in a sling, carrying food was inconvenient, but the cafeteria staff didn’t dare stop him. They even helped by carrying his meal to the table.

After eating, Jiang Fan sat in the dining hall to rest for a while, waiting until the shift ended.

In the monotony of factory life, the end of the workday was the happiest hour for the workers. The sight of so many youthful, smiling faces was, in itself, a beautiful scene.

Only when the crowd surged in did Jiang Fan leave the staff cafeteria, wandering idly to the factory gate.

With more than fifty thousand employees at Da Feng, and only a few hundred men among them, Jiang Fan’s favorite pastime was to stand at the gate during shift change, watching the pretty girls come and go, occasionally rating their looks in his mind.

Now, injured, he no longer felt like admiring the women. Though he appeared aimless as he ambled to the gate, his real purpose was to cover for those trying to sneak food out.

The security guards at the gate, seeing Jiang Fan deliberately lingering there and recalling how he had beaten up the team leader over carrying food the day before, had no wish to invite trouble. Even when they spotted employees’ lunch boxes poking out from under their uniforms, they didn’t interfere.