Rebirth 04: Starting from Taking an Unconventional Approach

Chapter 181 Hand Grenade

Zhang Huaili looked at Chen Zhengyuan with a puzzled expression.

"Chen Zhengyuan, what exactly is it between you and Wen Shuyan? She's just a student teacher, how is she getting in your way?"

"Old Zhang," Chen Zhengyuan poured tea into his cup, "these aren't things you need to worry about. All you need to know is that your son's easy, lucrative job was given to you by me. Now, it's time for you to repay me. Not 'can you,' but 'must.' Think about your son, and then think about your own position."

"Don't talk to me like that!" Zhang Huaili slammed his fist on the table, making the teapot and cups jump. Several tea drinkers in the distance cast encouraging glances, while a waitress carrying several tea sets passed by, giving him a warning look. Zhang Huaili slumped in his chair, wiped his face, and lowered his voice, saying, "If you want me to agree, you have to tell me the truth first. What do you want? Isn't there some other misunderstanding?"

Chen Zhengyuan raised the cup to his lips and poured the amber liquid into his mouth. "Wen Shuyan is related to Qingniao's system and business. This is called 'besieging Wei to rescue Zhao,' you understand? That's all I can tell you."

Zhang Huaili blinked in surprise: "If you have any ideas about Wangyi and Qingniao, could you approach it from another angle?"

Why jeopardize a young girl's future? You want me, a vice-principal, to block the promotion of a high-performing, dean-approved young teacher? That's against the rules, and it's too obvious! What if she makes a scene, or the media finds out? How am I supposed to explain this? It won't be good for you either."

"I believe you can handle things within the rules, Lao Zhang. You're the vice principal; you understand this kind of personnel flexibility better than I do."

Chen Zhengyuan said, taking another sip.

Zhang Huaili felt anger surge up his neck and back like a hot boiler. He deliberately savored this feeling for a moment, then gritted his teeth.

Guan, however, did not allow himself to say anything rashly driven by emotion, because he knew that provoking the other party would not do him any good.

"Zhengyuan, wake up!" he said. "You saw Han Fei's performance on stage yesterday, and even Director Li Guohua met with him personally afterwards. The Education Commission is very interested in his proposal. Now it's obvious that Han Fei has a special relationship with Wen Shuyan."

"You want me to take action against Wen Shuyan at this critical juncture? What if Han Fei finds out and reports it to the Education Commission and the media? What am I supposed to do then? I can't bear that responsibility! I don't care what you do with Qingniao. But you can't use me as your cannon fodder. I can cooperate with you, but only without attracting the attention of the Education Commission and the media. What you're asking me to do now is to push Han Fei, Wen Shuyan, and that Director Li Guohua together! You're ruining me!"

"Han Fei will never know."

"What?"

Chen Zhengyuan grinned crookedly: "Old Zhang, have you considered that if Wen Shuyan had told Han Fei everything, would he have acted that way when he saw me yesterday? If I hadn't called Han Fei up on stage, we wouldn't have had any interaction yesterday. And even if Han Fei finds out later, what can he do? Tell the media? Does he have any substantial evidence? He can't just rely on Wen Shuyan's side of the story, can he? A shrewd person like Han Fei wouldn't risk his reputation for an accusation without evidence. Report it to the Education Commission? The Education Commission handles the promotion of a trainee teacher? Old Zhang, you should know better than me that the Education Commission has no say in these personnel matters."

Zhang Huaili opened his mouth to speak, but then swallowed his words back. He felt as if all the strength in his body was draining away from every pore.

He knew Chen Zhengyuan was right, but he also knew that once this matter started, there was no turning back.

"Old Zhang, you don't need to talk to me about risks. Your son's situation is the biggest risk. I'll say it again, I'm not begging you, I'm informing you. As for Han Fei and the Education Commission, that's not your concern. You just need to handle your own affairs."

"This is a matter for you. If you don't handle it well, or if you try to please both sides, then tomorrow morning, your son's complete case file and the complaint letter on my desk will both appear on the disciplinary committee's desk. The choice is yours."

Zhang Huaili took a deep breath and closed his eyes: "Chen Zhengyuan, do you know that you are the most arrogant, selfish, and ignorant scoundrel in the world?"

Chen Zhengyuan shrugged and drank the tea in one gulp.

"Are you sure Han Fei and the Education Commission won't find out if we do this? What if something goes wrong... I can't handle it," Zhang Huaili said.

Chen Zhengyuan poured more tea.

Zhang Huaili sighed: "What exactly do you want me to do?"

Chen Zhengyuan stood up and looked at Zhang Huaili: "I just need to let Wen Shuyan know that her future is in my hands. How exactly to do it is up to you."

Zhang Huaili sat at the table until Chen Zhengyuan left the tea room. He glanced around cautiously, then carefully took the small Sony pocket tape recorder from his coat pocket and pressed the red stop button on the side with trembling fingers. The recorder clicked, as if foreshadowing an ominous event. He opened the tape compartment cover, took out the miniature MC-60 tape, wrapped it in a handkerchief, and then placed it in his inner coat pocket, close to his chest.

He put away the tape recorder, leaned back in his chair, and let out a long sigh.

This was a hand grenade with the pin not pulled. If it detonated, it might only result in a loss for Chen Zhengyuan, but for him personally...

But it will certainly be destruction. Therefore, this cannot win him. Of course not. But if that day really comes, at least he won't lose too badly.

Old Gu's left ear is almost deaf, a result of being vibrated by a centrifuge in a chemical plant years ago. But his right ear works better than most people's, so when he talks to someone, he always unconsciously tilts his head and points his right ear towards the other person, as if he is eavesdropping on some secret.

At that moment, he was tilting his head, facing an old man.

The old man stood outside the counter of Old Gu's agricultural supplies store. The store faced Caohe Street in Zhujiajiao Town. The stone steps at the entrance were over a century old, worn smooth by countless footsteps, making them incredibly slippery after rain. The store counter, inherited from Old Gu's father, had a frame made of elm wood, its surface stained with white patches from acid and alkali burns, resembling vitiligo. On the counter, year-round sat an old-fashioned reddish-brown platform scale, a stack of curled-edge "Pesticide Use Manuals," and an enamel mug, its inner walls thick with tea stains so thick you could scrape them off to pickle vegetables.

"Good morning," Old Gu said with a smile. This was a greeting passed down from his father, and he had to use a different greeting each day to greet guests with a smile, depending on the time of day. Four hours later, he would say "Good afternoon," two hours later, he would say "Good evening." After get off work, when he got home, he hoped someone would say "Good night" to him.

"I want to buy some medicine."

Old Gu looked at the old man's wet coat shoulders. Outside, the rain was pouring down. A single raindrop dangled from the brim of the old man's hat, trembling.

"Do you want to buy some medicine?"

Old Gu still kept his right ear turned towards the old man, a smile on his face, unchanged. He remembered his father's teachings, adhering to the service principle: everyone must be treated as a guest until it was proven that the other party had absolutely no intention of spending money there. But he also knew what kind of person was standing in front of him this time: a well-educated old man from the city. Although the old man's hands on the counter were rough, with indelible black stains under his fingernails, and his index and middle fingers yellowed from smoke, those weren't from farm work, but from writing. Old Gu could tell at a glance. He had worked in a chemical plant for twenty years and then run a shop on Caohe Street for five years, seeing thousands of hands. Some hands were only fit to carry cement, some hands were fit to hold a pen.

"What kind of medicine do you want?" the old consultant asked. "Rat poison or industrial raw materials?" He didn't mention the pesticides and fertilizers his shop sold. A cultured person would never come here early Sunday morning in the rain just to buy those two things.

"That one," the old man said, pointing to the glass cabinet behind Old Gu, "that white one."

Old Gu turned his head and looked at the glass cabinet. DDT, 666 powder. Not those two. White powder. He opened the cabinet and took out the bottle of white powder from the third shelf. This stuff only sells two or three times a year; the label on the bottle was almost peeling off, and the words on it were handwritten by him: Sodium nitrite.

"What is it for?"

"Cured meat," the old man said.

"Three yuan for one ounce, five yuan for two ounces. How much do you want?"

"Four ounces."

"Four ounces?" Old Gu looked at him in surprise. "Does your family own a restaurant?"

The old man shook his head.

Old Gu took a notebook from under the counter, flipped to the latest page, and picked up a pen. This was a requirement from the town's police station; they said the sale of hazardous chemicals needed to be registered. He used to think it was unnecessary—who cared if he had to register selling rat poison? But the police said if he didn't register, they'd shut him down. So he had no choice but to comply.

"Did you bring your ID card?" Old Gu asked, flashing his brightest smile, a smile usually reserved only for regular customers.

The old man didn't answer, still wearing his soaking wet hat. In the ensuing silence, Old Gu heard the sound of a raindrop hitting the concrete. The old man took a plastic-covered ID card from his pocket and handed it to him. Old Gu opened it and saw it was Chen Dajian. He examined the photo carefully; it was taken at least ten years ago. Back then, the old man's face wasn't so thin, his cheekbones weren't so high, and his eyes were brighter. But it was clear it was the same person.

He copied the information from the ID card into his notebook, writing down the date, product name, quantity, and purpose, and then handed the ID card back to the old man. He then put away the notebook, scooped four spoonfuls of white powder from a wide-mouthed jar, wrapped it in kraft paper to make a neat little square packet, tied it twice with cotton thread, and made a tight knot.

"Four ounces..." Old Gu said, pushing the paper package across the counter. "This doesn't seem like the amount for cured meat."

The old man looked up, puzzled. Old Gu then realized the implication of his words. He could have added: "Please, whatever you do, don't use this thing for anything else."

Old Gu tried to smile: "This stuff looks like salt, but it's not salt. Someone in town bought it and used it as salt, and the whole family ended up in the hospital. For curing meat, a fingernail-sized amount is enough. Use it carefully; this stuff is no joke."

The old man scrutinized Old Gu's face, but he was clearly preoccupied with something else.

"Really?" After a while, the old man said, "This stuff looks so much like salt. If you put it in the wrong container and eat it, what will happen?"

"If you put it in the wrong place, it's almost as bad as arsenic," Old Gu said.

"Arsenic? What would happen?"

"It will kick the bucket."

"Fart?"

Old Gu glanced quickly at the old man. Could this old man be a little senile?

"What I mean is," Old Gu said, "it's over, completely gone. If someone ingests it..." He gestured to illustrate what would happen to someone who had ingested sodium nitrite.

"So this is what you call 'hitting the ground'?" The old man rubbed his chin. Did Old Gu see a hint of a smile beneath the old man's wrinkles? "Isn't it just death? I think I read about it in a book, saying that when this stuff gets into the bloodstream, it locks in hemoglobin, causing oxygen deprivation. Is that true?"

"Yes," Old Gu said firmly, "this stuff can be deadly. That's why I'm warning you to be extremely careful when using it, and not to use it as salt for cooking."

"Of course," the old man chuckled, "thank you for reminding me, Mr. Gu."

Old Gu was startled when the old man called him by his surname. The old man obviously knew his surname from the business license above the glass cabinet, which showed that his eyesight—at least with glasses—was perfectly fine. The name on the business license was as small as the font on the medicine labels in the cabinet. He pretended to steal a glance at the clock.

"Oh, right," the old man said, "you said there used to be a family in town who used sodium nitrite as salt, and the whole family ended up in the hospital."

What happened to that family afterwards?

"That family... a family of four. I only heard the details from others. They say the first one to complain was the youngest grandson, only six years old, who thought the vegetables were bitter. The adults didn't take it seriously and even scolded the child for being picky. About ten minutes later, the daughter-in-law started feeling dizzy..."

He was nauseous, his face turned purple, and his lips were the color of an eggplant. Only then did they panic. They took him to the town clinic, but the doctors immediately said he was no good and rushed him to the county hospital. The old man died on the way. When the other three arrived at the emergency room, their lips were purplish-black, and their blood was the color of soy sauce. The grandson and daughter-in-law were resuscitated all night and had their stomachs pumped; they were alright. The old man's son had eaten the most; although he didn't die, he suffered from prolonged oxygen deprivation and became mentally impaired.

"Who bought that thing?"

"My daughter-in-law bought it," Old Gu said. "She said it was for marinating pig's head. She just put it on the stove, next to the salt shaker, and there wasn't a single word on the packaging. The old man's eyesight isn't good, so he grabs a handful every time he cooks... Sigh."

Take it home and store it carefully; don't put it with the salt. It's best to find a lockable cabinet and lock it after use.

The old man nodded, took out his wallet from his side pocket, took out a twenty-yuan note, and placed it on the counter.

"Keep the change, please."