Chapter 52: Yan Bugui and Xu Damao's Scheme

Yan Bugui practically walked on tiptoe as he slipped out of the rolling mill's main gate. The two notices posted side by side—one a glaringly red letter of appointment, the other a chillingly white disciplinary decision—burned like two hot irons, making his eyes sting and keeping a persistent chill lingering down his spine.

He didn't dare look back, feeling as though the towering factory chimneys were coldly staring right at him.

...

At the northwest corner of the rolling mill lay the scrap metal recycling yard.

The air here was perennially filled with the scents of rust, machine oil, and an indefinable smell of decay.

Several small mountain-like piles of scrap iron, dilapidated machine parts, and chemical waste drums were piled up in chaotic disorder.

A group of temporary workers wearing recycled fabric uniforms and worn-out gloves were hard at work, the sound of clanging strikes mixing with the heavy gasps of people laboriously dragging around heavy loads.

Xu Damao was among them. The greasy, shiny recycled-fabric work uniform he wore was dirtier than anyone else's, with thick patches sewn over the elbows and knees.

His hair was messy and matted with dust, his face smeared with streaks of black soot, and his lips chapped and cracked.

He was struggling with a crowbar, trying to pry loose a bearing housing half-buried in the soil and rusted solid. His jaw was clenched so tight it locked, the veins on his neck bulging out.

Sweat mixed with dust to carve muddy grooves down his face.

More than a year of grueling physical labor had completely worn away the smooth, cunning "vitality" he used to possess, leaving behind only a sinister gloom hammered out by reality and an irrepressible malice.

"Damn it! This piece of junk!" Xu Damao cursed under his breath, kicking the bearing housing fiercely and sending a sharp pain shooting through the sole of his foot.

He straightened up, gasping for breath, and indiscriminately wiped the sweat blinding his eyes with a sleeve so filthy its original color was unrecognizable. His gaze swept inadvertently toward the junction leading to the main factory road in the distance.

At that glance, his movements froze. He saw Yan Bugui, his neck turtled in, creeping along the low wall bordering the edge of the scrap yard and peeking tentatively in this direction.

Seeing that Xu Damao had spotted him, Yan Bugui quickly pulled his head back, but immediately poked it out again, signaling with a minuscule wave in Xu Damao's direction, his eyes darting shiftily.

Xu Damao furrowed his brow, full of suspicion.

What was this old miser Yan doing in this reeking scrap yard?

Looking left and right, the shift foreman had his back turned, gesturing wildly in front of another pile of scrap iron.

Xu Damao spat a glob of dust-laden saliva, dropped the crowbar, and shuffled sluggishly toward the low wall where Yan Bugui was hiding.

"Old Yan? What are you doing over here? Don't you mind the stench?" Xu Damao stopped a few paces away and asked irritably, keeping his voice very low, laden with a heavy nasal tone and lingering resentment.

Yan Bugui nervously darted his eyes left and right once more before drawing closer. His voice dropped even lower than Xu Damao's, an in-breath whisper carrying an undisguised urgency and a hint of schadenfreude: "Damao! Something huge has happened! Li Huaide has gone down! He went down because of He Yuzhu!"

"What?" Xu Damao snapped his head up, his murky eyes instantly bursting with an incredulous light. "Deputy Director Li? Went down? Because of Silly Zhu?" His voice pitched up slightly, cracking at the edge.

"Shh! Keep it down!" Yan Bugui winced in fright, almost jumping, and hurriedly shrank his neck back in. "It's the absolute truth! It's posted on the bulletin board at the factory gate! Li Huaide has been stripped of his post! Stripped of everything! Now he's running the trade union, handling movie tickets and organizing tug-of-war matches!" he babbled rapidly, his small eyes gleaming. "It's an official red-headed document! He Yuzhu has been promoted! Deputy Head of the Procurement Section! It's a done deal!"

"Deputy section chief? Silly Zhu?" Xu Damao felt as though he had been punched squarely in the chest, staggering back half a step and slamming into the cold low wall.

The last trace of color on his face drained away completely, leaving behind only a deathly gray and a twisted, feral grimace. Li Huaide had fallen? His last hope was gone?

That cook, Silly Zhu, had climbed up to a position Xu Damao could never reach in his lifetime?

A wave of wicked fury mixed with bone-deep hatred surged straight to his head, burning so fiercely it made his vision go dark.

"What right does he have?! A stinking cook! What right does he have?!" Xu Damao squeezed the words out from between his teeth, his voice hoarse.

He clenched his fists so hard his knuckles popped audibly.

His gaze crossed Yan Bugui's shoulder, fixing dead on the direction of the office building deep within the factory grounds—the building that represented power—his eyes filled with venom and unresigned bitterness.

Startled by his appearance, Yan Bugui instinctively wanted to back away again, but remembering the purpose of his trip, he forced himself to stay put. Lowering his voice, he rushed to add, "Damao, now is not the time to throw a tantrum! Li Huaide has fallen, but he's still in the factory! In the union! A starved camel is still bigger than a horse!"

"He must still be holding onto something! Holding onto dirt on Silly Zhu! Otherwise, would Silly Zhu have let him off so easily? Just shipping him off to the trade union?"

Xu Damao's bloodshot eyes narrowed sharply, as if jolted awake.

That's right! That old fox Li Huaide, even if he had fallen on hard times, could never be entirely clean!

And that bastard Silly Zhu must certainly have some shady secrets clutched in Li Huaide's hands! Otherwise, given Silly Zhu's current ruthlessness, would he merely have sent Li Huaide off to watch movies and tug-of-wars?

Watching the shift in Xu Damao's gaze and knowing his words had hit the mark, Yan Bugui stoked the fire further, his voice dropping even lower with a seductive edge: "Damao, you used to be close with Deputy Director Li... Now that he's fallen on hard times, it's precisely when he needs 'friends' the most!"

"Find a way, send a word, make a connection! If he really has dirt on Silly Zhu... wouldn't that be your chance? Our courtyard's chance?"

Xu Damao's chest heaved violently. His sinister gaze swept over Yan Bugui's calculating old face, then drifted back toward the secluded little building housing the trade union.

Li Huaide... the trade union... dirt... an opportunity...

Just then, the shift foreman's grating roar echoed from afar: "Xu Damao! Where the hell have you been hiding?! Get your ass over here! That bag of sulfur powder is leaking! Go clean it up right now! You trying to smoke me out?!"

Xu Damao gave a start, snapped out of his venomous reverie.

He glared fiercely at Yan Bugui, threw out a curt "Got it! Wait for my word!", and bolted back toward the scrap piles, his steps slightly staggering from sudden anger and haste.

Watching Xu Damao run off and vanish behind the piles of scrap iron, Yan Bugui let out a long breath and wiped the cold sweat that had somehow oozed onto his forehead.

He pulled his neck in and, just as he had come, slipped rapidly away along the shadows of the wall.

Behind the scrap heaps, an even more pungent, spicy scent of sulfur dust drifted through the air.

Xu Damao covered his nose and mouth, narrowing his eyes as he struggled to drag the torn burlap sack amidst a cloud of gray-yellow dust.

The sulfur powder flew into his eyes, stinging them until tears streamed down and pain flared like fire.

As he wretchedly rubbed his eyes, he roared frantically inside his heart, every single word soaked in venom:

"He Yuzhu! You wait! You just wait for me! If I can't climb back up, don't you ever expect to live in peace either! Li Huaide... the trade union... let's see who gets the last laugh!"