Chapter 33: Xu Damao Has Returned

In the corner of the rolling mill’s warehouse district, a makeshift outdoor storage yard was piled high with sacks, wooden crates, and scattered containers.

Deputy Section Chief Sun Jianguo gestured toward the chaotic heap and frowned. "He, this is it. These are miscellaneous materials left over from the city’s No. 3 Chemical Plant over the past two years. The composition is complex, and due to improper storage, some have become damp and hardened."

"The city has assigned us the task of clearing this out within a set deadline to free up the space."

He Yuzhu looked at the mess before him. The air was thick with a pungent mixture of chemical odors and the smell of mold. Some sacks had burst, spilling colorful, crusty powders, while rotting wooden crates revealed lumps in equally poor condition. Rust-covered iron drums stood nearby, their labels long since illegible.

"The warehouse keeper has inventoried them: soda ash, sodium sulfide, paraffin, and various catalyst wastes of unknown composition. In short... a pile of junk," Sun said with a helpless sigh. "Deputy Factory Director Li specifically named you to handle this. The implication is that this is a difficult task—a test of your trust and commitment to the organization."

He Yuzhu remained silent. He stepped forward and picked up a grayish-white lump that had rolled out of a torn sack. He rubbed it between his fingers; it was as hard as stone and crumbled easily. He then walked over to a half-open iron drum filled with a dark red, viscous paste that emitted a foul stench.

"What are the requirements for disposal?" He Yuzhu asked.

"Clear the site within a month," Sun replied with a wry smile. "As for how to dispose of it... they didn't say. Throw it out as trash? It’s a huge pile—where would you put it? Bury it? Who takes responsibility for the land pollution? Sell it to a scrap yard? They probably wouldn't even take it! It's a hot potato."

He Yuzhu weighed the hard piece of waste in his hand before tossing it back onto the pile. He paced slowly around the "junk," his gaze sweeping over the various containers and debris, the pungent fumes stinging his nostrils.

"Section Chief Sun, I’ll take the job," He Yuzhu said, his voice calm.

"He, think carefully!" Sun urged, sounding anxious. "It’s obvious Li Huaide is setting a trap for you! You could easily ruin yourself with this."

"If there’s a pit, I have to jump in," He Yuzhu said, his lips curling into a cold, mirthless smile. "The order has come down; there’s no avoiding it. Instead of complaining, it's better to think about how to fill the hole."

He Yuzhu pointed at the pile. "Please ask the warehouse keeper to give me as detailed a list as possible, even if it’s just the information from the old labels on the packaging. Also, consider this area temporarily under my jurisdiction."

Watching He Yuzhu’s composed demeanor, Sun sighed. "Fine! I’ll get that list. If you need manpower to help clear or move things, just say the word."

"Not for now," He Yuzhu said, waving his hand as his eyes returned to the malodorous heap. "I need to assess the situation first."

***

The residential compound, evening.

At the entrance, a figure appeared, dressed in the grey-blue uniform of a labor reform farm. With his hair shaved into a buzz cut and carrying a small, tattered bundle, he slunk inside, head bowed. It was Xu Damao, released after completing his three-month sentence. He looked significantly thinner; his eye sockets were sunken, his cheekbones protruded, and his face bore the sallow, listless complexion of chronic malnutrition.

Three months of hard labor had stripped away his slick, arrogant facade, leaving behind only a deep-seated cowardice and resentment.

As he entered the front courtyard, Yan Bugui, the Third Master, who was busy watering his flowers, caught sight of him. He froze, his watering can suspended in mid-air, his mouth agape in surprise. "Xu... Xu Damao? You... you're back?"

Xu Damao was startled. Once he realized it was Yan Bugui, he forced a dry, painful-looking smile. "Third Master... yes... it’s me... I’m back..."

His voice was hoarse and his eyes darted around, avoiding Yan’s gaze as he hurried toward the middle courtyard. Watching him go, Yan Bugui shook his head, muttered to himself, "What a disaster... I’m afraid his job is as good as gone..."

Xu Damao moved with unsteady steps through the front courtyard. Just as he entered the gate to the middle courtyard, he ran into He Yuzhu, who was pushing his bicycle out from his doorway.

The two came face-to-face. He Yuzhu didn't even break his stride, pushing his bike straight past him as if he didn't exist.

That familiar sense of indifference was more humiliating to Xu Damao than any verbal abuse. He stiffened as if struck by an invisible whip, his fingers gripping his tattered bundle until they turned white, his nails digging into his palms. Xu Damao gritted his teeth to keep from screaming out in a fit of rage.

Only when He Yuzhu’s back disappeared beyond the gate did he drag his heavy feet toward his own cold, desolate room. Pushing the door open, he was met with a wave of dust and mildew. The room was empty, the stove cold, and a layer of dust covered everything.

Xu Damao threw his bundle onto the icy kang and slumped down, staring blankly at the dust-covered rafters. His job... his reputation... all destroyed! And it was all thanks to He Yuzhu!

He felt a burning hatred in his chest. But the moment he recalled He Yuzhu’s cold gaze, the handcuffs at the police station, and the inhuman days at the labor farm, a deeper chill crept from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. He shivered and curled up, wrapping his arms around himself.

Revenge? With what? He was just a released convict; he didn't even know if he could keep his job! And He Yuzhu? He was a procurement team leader at the rolling mill, riding high on success!

In the middle courtyard, at the Jia family home, Qin Huairu peered through the door crack, witnessing Xu Damao’s return and He Yuzhu’s dismissal of him. She felt a complicated mix of emotions—a bit of satisfaction, yet a strange, lingering sadness. With Xu Damao’s downfall, she had lost someone she could occasionally exploit for small favors. But seeing his miserable state reminded her of her own hopeless situation.

She quietly closed the door and turned around to see her son, Bangeng, huddled in the corner of the kang, holding a broken slingshot he had found somewhere, his eyes vacant as he stared out the window. Ever since he had been severely punished by He Yuzhu for stealing, and terrified by the very mention of a "labor reform camp," the boy seemed like a different person. He stayed indoors all day, spoke little, and his eyes lacked their former rebellious spark.

Qin Huairu felt a sharp pain in her heart. It was all He Yuzhu’s fault! If only he hadn't been so ruthless... she shook her head violently, not daring to think further. Life had to go on; tomorrow she still had to go to the workshop to glue paper boxes and earn those meager work points.

***

The next day, at the rolling mill’s warehouse district.

He Yuzhu squatted on the ground, a hardcover notebook open in front of him, surrounded by samples he had scraped from the various containers. Wearing coarse cloth gloves, he carefully tapped a piece of the dark red hard paste with a small hammer. It was brittle and shattered, revealing a dark red powder inside. He picked up a pinch of the powder and brought it to his nose; the pungent smell was even stronger, carrying a metallic, blood-like scent of rust.

Next, he picked up a grayish-white lump. This was harder to handle, as solid as stone. He tried tapping it with the hammer, leaving only a faint white mark.

He Yuzhu frowned and quickly recorded in his notebook:
"Dark red hard paste: Suspected iron sulfide catalyst waste? Damp and clumped, pungent metallic odor..."
"Grayish-white lump: Mixture of alkalis? Caked due to moisture, extremely high hardness..."
"Yellow powder: Suspected sulfur powder? Damp and clumped..."

He Yuzhu went through the list, recording his preliminary assessment of the types, states, and the persistent foul odors of the waste. This pile of materials was indeed a complex, problematic mess. Throwing it out as trash was impossible due to the contamination risks, and burying it was even less feasible.

"Turning waste into treasure..." He Yuzhu put down the hammer and looked at the notes, murmuring to himself.

The phrase was easy to say, but doing it would be as hard as ascending to the heavens. He needed a more professional opinion. He stood up, dusted off his gloves, and looked toward the technical department building deep within the factory grounds. It seemed he would have to trouble an old acquaintance in the technical department.

Perhaps, hidden within this heap of junk, there was something actually useful.