Chapter 336 - 231: The Squeaky Wheel Gets the Grease

Chapter 336: Chapter 231: The Squeaky Wheel Gets the Grease

After dinner, Wei Dongliang said his goodbyes. As the district’s administrative head, he had many things to handle the next day. Before leaving, he told Zhao Wendong to get some good rest. Once Wei Dongliang was gone, many of the surrounding diners crowded around to talk to Zhao Wendong. He responded politely to everyone, instantly winning their goodwill.

When the meal was over, the guesthouse director personally escorted the two of them back to their room. After fussing over them for a while, he finally took his leave, leaving Zhao Wendong and Liangzi behind.

"Liangzi, you’re not mad at me, are you?"

Zhao Wendong lay back down on his bed and asked with a smile, looking at the slightly dazed Liangzi.

"Dongzi, I’m not an ungrateful person. Thank you for helping me get even. I feel so much better now."

"Hahaha, that’s the spirit. Better to make someone else miserable than to suffer yourself."

"Huh?"

Liangzi froze. ’That sounds a little... off,’ he thought.

The two of them took a nap in the afternoon and found it hard to sleep that night. They wanted to go for a stroll but were advised against it by the guesthouse staff, who said the district’s security wasn’t very good at night. With no other choice, they could only go to the shower room for a hot shower before returning to their room to sleep.

Liangzi fell asleep extremely quickly and started snoring in no time. Even though Zhao Wendong snored himself, he found it hard to sleep when someone else was snoring. Bored out of his mind, he had no choice but to go out into the hallway to smoke. Just as he stepped out, he saw a man who had scraped all the heads off his matches without managing to light one. The striking surfaces on both sides of the matchbox were worn smooth.

CLICK—!

Zhao Wendong flicked his lighter open and offered it to him. The man looked up at Zhao Wendong, nodded, and leaned in to light his cigarette. He then pulled out another cigarette and offered it to Zhao Wendong, who accepted it without ceremony and lit it. The man was smoking Dashengchan, which cost about fifteen cents a pack, a tier higher than his own Grape brand.

The two of them smoked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. After finishing his cigarette, the man nodded at Zhao Wendong and entered a room not far away. Zhao Wendong waited until he finished his own cigarette, feeling much more relaxed, and returned to his room as well. He didn’t know if Liangzi had heard the door open, but he had surprisingly stopped snoring. Zhao Wendong quickly seized the opportunity, lay down, and began to count sheep. ’One, two...’

「The eighth day of the first lunar month.」

The cold wind was still bone-chilling, but the auditorium in Dong’an District was toasty warm from the heaters. Bright red banners hung everywhere. Calligraphed slogans like "Learn from the Labor Models" and "Embrace the Spirit of Hard Work to Build a Bright Future" were written in powerful, vigorous strokes. In the center of the grand hall hung the great portrait, flanked by two pots of blooming rhododendrons. Although it wasn’t their peak season, they still added a festive touch.

This was the day of the commendation ceremony for last year’s district labor models. Cadres from various counties, enterprises, and farms, all dressed in their neatest clothes, had taken their seats in the auditorium early. The air was filled with an atmosphere that was both solemn and festive.

Most people were wearing dark blue Zhongshan suits or faded blue worker’s uniforms. Their hair was meticulously combed, with some having even applied a bit of hair oil. They sat with ramrod-straight backs, their hands placed properly on their knees, their eyes filled with nervousness and anticipation.

The district leaders were all seated on the main stage, each wearing a crisp cadre’s uniform and holding a notebook, their expressions serious. Below them were the representatives from the various counties and work units, murmuring quietly amongst themselves. Their gazes frequently darted towards the stage or towards the labor models in the front row, who were wearing large red rosettes, their eyes filled with envy.

Among the five labor models in the front row, Zhao Wendong stuck out like a sore thumb, like a common pheasant in a flock of red-crowned cranes. He wasn’t wearing a Zhongshan suit or a dark blue worker’s uniform; he just had on his wool overcoat. Because it was too hot inside, he had taken it off and placed it behind him, revealing a shabby, patched cotton-padded jacket underneath. He had worn it on purpose, leaving his new wedding jacket at home. Sitting in the second row, Jiang Weimin saw his getup and could only shake his head, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

This was the jacket he usually wore when he went into the mountains. It had been torn in many places, sewn up, and patched again. There were tree sap stains all over it, so grimy they wouldn’t wash out. The moment Zhao Wendong took off his wool overcoat and revealed this tattered jacket, the crowd immediately began to whisper amongst themselves.

"Look at Comrade Zhao Wendong’s clothes. He must have it really tough."

"Yeah, so pitiful, yet so admirable."

"Sigh, our peasant brothers have such a hard life these days."

On the stage, Director Tang and Special Commissioner Wei both watched Zhao Wendong with smiles, their expressions showing a sense of warmth. Zhao Wenming, sitting at the very end of the stage, felt the last bit of his hatred for Zhao Wendong dissipate. ’He’s just a dirt-poor farmer,’ he thought. ’It was just bad timing that the business with Huang Xiaomei and his friend happened at the same time, putting me in an awkward position. It’s really not worth getting serious with him. It just lowers my own standing.’

Zhao Wendong casually ran his hands through his hair a couple of times. Intentionally unwashed, it looked messy and dry. He even had an unlit cigarette tucked behind his left ear, looking as if someone had given it to him and he was treasuring it. There was nothing wrong with the gesture itself, but this was a formal awards ceremony. Combined with his angry confrontation with Zhao Wenming in the cafeteria yesterday, his image as a poor, ignorant farmer who just got lucky was now firmly etched in everyone’s minds.

Seeing how everyone around him was sitting ramrod-straight, barely daring to breathe, Zhao Wendong chuckled inwardly. He leaned back in his chair, his back pressed against the seatback, and his legs spread slightly apart. He looked just as he would on his own *kang* at home, as if he weren’t at a solemn labor model ceremony, but rather sunning himself under the big tree at the village entrance.