Chapter Nineteen: The Security Department

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Liu Laisheng took the form from Chen Changping’s hands, glanced over it and muttered, “Cui Yue?” Wasn’t that the third son of Old Cui’s family? So he’s part of this recruitment, too.

Cui Yue had finally written his name on the recruitment form—not wanting to disappoint his mother, and, besides, he had no idea what else to do. The future was a blank, a fog.

But above all, he feared being beaten to a pulp by his father, locked inside with no way out. His father’s words echoed: “Waiting for death at home is still better than running wild on the street.” If he dared refuse to take the job, his father would starve him without hesitation. After a night of pondering, he filled out the form and fell asleep, thinking perhaps this was fate.

That same evening, Liu Laisheng arrived at Cui Yuanjun’s door with the appointment slip, exchanged the obligatory pleasantries, congratulating the Cui family’s third son on securing an iron rice bowl, ready now to contribute to the country.

Big-mouthed Liu brought Cui Yue’s work uniform, gave him a few reminders, and imparted advice as someone with experience. In summary, the third son of the Cui family would surely make them proud; the Party and the People had placed a heavy burden on his shoulders—responsibility weightier than Mount Tai.

Listening to Liu’s words, Cui Yue felt he’d be better off reading two more books. He nodded and shook his head vacantly, his mind already wandering far beyond the conversation.

Early next morning, dressed neatly, Cui Yue gazed at his reflection in the mirror, uncertain before the crisp new uniform. He thought, “From today, I suppose I’ll have a career of my own.”

“Dad, I’m off to work.”

“Hmph.”

Cui Yuanjun replied with a grunt through his nose.

Cui Yue glanced at his father, said nothing more, hurriedly ate a few bites of bread, and rode out like the wind on his old bicycle.

Cui Yuanjun stood by the window, watching his son’s figure recede into the distance, muttering to himself, “That rascal finally looks like something.”

County Fertilizer Factory, Administration Building.

Liu Laisheng looked up and saw a young man standing nervously in a brand-new work uniform, trembling slightly as he held the appointment slip.

“Cui Yue, come in, don’t stand out there.”

“Uncle Liu, I’m here to report for duty today.”

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“All right, I’ll take you down now. You’ll intern for six months, rotating through different departments to get familiar with the factory, then you’ll be assigned officially. The other departments are fully staffed, so you’ll start in the Security Section. The Security Section is the pride of the whole factory…”

Liu Laisheng chattered nonstop as he led Cui Yue along, nearly driving him mad, though Cui Yue felt too awkward to complain. Whatever excitement he’d felt was worn away by Liu Laisheng’s endless barrage of words.

Finally, after the handover in the Security Section, Cui Yue felt as if centuries had passed. At last, he escaped the fiery enthusiasm of Director Liu.

Section Chief Zhang Hu, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, sized up the slender, unremarkable youth before him and said,

“So, Old Cui’s boy, you’ve grown up. Good. Stick with your Uncle Zhang and you’ll go far.”

Zhang Hu’s booming voice thundered in Cui Yue’s ears, echoing like muffled explosions, making his eardrums ache. The tone was less like a security chief and more like a gang boss.

He slapped Cui Yue’s shoulder so hard that it nearly knocked him over.

Cui Yue winced inwardly, rubbing his sore shoulder, and mumbled,

“Yes, Chief Zhang, I’ll work hard and do my best in this promising career.”

“Come on, I’ll show you around. I’ve got the night shift tonight, you’ll tag along, get familiar with the place.”

Without waiting for a reply, Zhang Hu grabbed Cui Yue like a chick and dragged him all over the factory, not missing a single nook or cranny. Zhang Hu knew every corner as if it were his own home, and Cui Yue learned a lot. The first day felt pretty good—he consoled himself.

As dusk fell, Cui Yue stood with Zhang Hu at the factory gate, watching workers come and go. At first, it felt novel, but boredom soon set in, along with a growing sense of awkwardness. Zhang Hu, arms akimbo and voice booming, resembled the puppet soldiers at the city gate, chatting and greeting all sorts of people.

“Hey, Ma Cannon, eat less, your damned belly’s hanging down to your crotch.”

“Old Zhang, let’s grab a drink after work.”

“No way, I’m on night shift. With your pathetic drinking, you dare call it a drink? One sneeze and I’d knock you right onto the table.”

“Hahaha…”

...

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“Hey, Old Zhang, you’ve got a new recruit under your wing, and he’s quite handsome,” teased a big aunt in blue cotton clothes, eyeing Cui Yue.

“Bigfoot Zhao, stop chasing young men. Go cool off somewhere. This is Old Cui’s Cui Yue.”

“Oh? Is that so? He’s grown so much, come here, let Auntie have a look.”

Bigfoot Zhao reached out, trying to pinch Cui Yue’s cheek.

Cui Yue wished he could sprout wings and fly away, his face flushed with embarrassment as he dodged, cheeks burning.

“Go home, freshen up, and find your old Xu. I saw old Xu sneak out before his shift ended, probably already warming your bed.”

Zhang Hu quickly pulled Cui Yue behind him, rescuing him from the ordeal. Cui Yue looked at Zhang Hu gratefully, at a loss for words.

“Bah, your Xu is nowhere near as eager as you. We’ll see about that next time.”

“You wish,” Zhang Hu retorted.

After a few more rounds of banter, Bigfoot Zhao sashayed away.

Watching her leave, Cui Yue tugged at his uniform, finally breathing easier. Standing at the gate, he felt all kinds of awkward—the constant flow of people seemed to stare at him. His skin was too thin; he wondered when he’d ever be as tough as Section Chief Zhang. Imagining himself ten years on as a puppet soldier boss like Zhang Hu, he shivered—the thought was too strange to contemplate. In wuxia tales, heroes roam the world with swords; here he was, standing at a factory gate with a stick. The gap between dreams and reality was staggering.

Unnoticed, night deepened. Most workers had finished their shifts and gone. Just as Cui Yue was about to lock the gate, he saw a girl in a red dress walking from afar—long hair, about seventeen or eighteen, her face beautiful and delicate, with willows and mist in her eyes. He found himself staring, entranced.

Zhang Hu called Cui Yue several times, getting no response. Following his gaze, he chuckled.

“So that’s why you went quiet, watching the little beauty, eh? Hey, your eyes are glued.”

Zhang Hu waved his hand in front of Cui Yue’s face, snapping him back to reality. Embarrassed, Cui Yue’s ears turned red.