Volume 1, Chapter 8: There Is a Blessing in Taking a Loss

“Excuse me, is this the home of Maimaiti Tursun?”

Following the address on the note, Ma Wenbin found a second-floor unit in a row house. Standing before one of the rusted iron doors, he knocked politely and glanced inside involuntarily.

In this season, Urumqi still bore some lingering heat, and as mealtime had just passed, the iron door was left ajar for ventilation.

Thus, Ma Wenbin immediately saw a group gathered around the dining table in the living room, and Maimaiti sitting among them.

Hearing the knock, Nurshati, who was closest, turned around hurriedly to respond. Seeing a young clerk-like visitor, he assumed he was here for his father and instantly frowned.

“Old man, someone’s here for you!”

Aili was used to his eldest son’s attitude. After shooting him a glare, he quickly rose to welcome the guest. “Comrade, are you here to collect the heating fee?”

Ma Wenbin was momentarily speechless. His gaze shifted just in time to see Maimaiti holding a plate, slurping on mixed noodles with interest. He raised his hand and pointed, “I’m a technician from the Water Conservancy Department, here to see your son, Maimaiti.”

Upon hearing this, Old Aili immediately recalled an earlier conversation with Maimaiti. Understanding the situation, he became flustered.

Officials from the Water Conservancy Department had come knocking—this fool must have neglected them. He should have sent this donkey of a son to apologize to the leaders right away!

The boy was immature; as his father, he had to step in. The old accountant’s sharp mind immediately sprang back to life.

“Oh, an official from the Water Conservancy Department! How courteous of you to visit in person. What a coincidence—you’ve caught us at mealtime! You haven’t eaten yet, have you? Come in, have some naan first,”

Old Aili invited Ma Wenbin inside while scolding Nurshati for his lack of tact, motioning him to stand and make way. He also pulled out several bills, handed them over, and pointed outside, “Go buy a pack of Zhonghua cigarettes, quick! Hotun (wife), add some more dishes!”

While Old Aili directed everyone, Maimaiti had already taken the initiative to pour tea and water for Ma Wenbin, set out an additional pair of chopsticks, and placed a piece of naan on a plate.

Seeing this after sitting down, Old Aili felt a surge of satisfaction: now this was proper!

Meanwhile, Ma Wenbin, the guest, felt somewhat embarrassed.

He had deliberately chosen this time, hoping to arrive just after the lunch rush and before work resumed. Unbeknownst to him, Maimaiti’s household was the last on this floor to use the shared kitchen, naturally pushing their mealtime nearly a full work period later.

Still, crashing a meal wasn’t a big deal. Officials often visited grassroots communities, sharing meals with ethnic minority families to build rapport and advance work matters. Moreover, minority comrades were famously hospitable; refusing a meal would be an affront.

But eating was secondary—the main purpose was business.

So, once introductions and pleasantries were done, Ma Wenbin broke the ice, “Maimaiti, I believe we’re not strangers. The other day when the leader inspected the machinery factory, I led the team. You certainly made quite an impression before the leader.”

Though he tried to seem friendly, others saw him as stern-faced. His forced attempt to bridge the gap felt awkward, and Old Aili glanced suspiciously at Maimaiti.

Could this stubborn boy be deceiving him? Claiming the leader favored him when clearly he had done something wrong and was too afraid to admit it, expecting his old man to smooth things over?

Maimaiti, sitting quietly all this while, also felt uneasy at Ma Wenbin’s words. Was the Water Conservancy Department playing a carrot-and-stick game?

With such feelings, Maimaiti had intended to repent and show loyalty but stopped halfway, “Commissioner Ma, of course I remember you. You gave me quite a ‘good care’ yesterday!”

Though meant as a joke, Ma Wenbin took it as if Maimaiti still harbored resentment and awaited an apology.

Already unimpressed, he now labeled Maimaiti as arrogant and proud, turning his intended words into a lecture, “Young man, you’re still inexperienced. A little grievance isn’t much. You must understand, easing the leader’s burdens isn’t just about doing your job well. You have to read the situation. A few words of criticism from the leader means they value you. Don’t get conceited just because you have some skill. At work, ability alone isn’t enough—you must also learn how to conduct yourself and navigate relationships!”

“Yes, yes!” Maimaiti nodded rapidly, memories of his previous life at the Wind Power Research Institute resurfacing bitterly.

In that past life, when he was an assistant researcher at the Wind Power Center, he had endured just such chiding and promises to become a senior researcher. But when the old leader retired and new leadership arrived with their own team, Maimaiti, the “old hand,” was marginalized.

Frustrated, even well-meaning advice felt like, “A little grievance at work is nothing!”

Seeing Maimaiti’s indifferent attitude, Old Aili grew irritated and smacked his son hard on the back. Following Ma Wenbin’s lead, he scolded, “Boy, did you hear that? A little criticism is nothing. Young people have to endure some hardship and loss—that’s a good thing! Now say thank you to Commissioner Ma!”

If not for his father’s authority and the need to appear humble and amiable, Maimaiti seriously considered quitting right then.

He thought bitterly: What sin have I committed that I must worship others as my teachers?

Feeling bolstered, Ma Wenbin smiled politely, “Young people naturally have some arrogance. I understand.”

Then he quickly sobered and got to the point.

“This morning, Director Wang Xiquan from the Water Conservancy Department spoke with you, right? He holds you in high regard and invited you to Daban City to participate in wind power R&D. This is a strong endorsement of your ability. However, your attitude hasn’t fully reflected the goodwill from the leaders, which has disappointed Director Wang and others.”

Such rhetoric was common in this era. Ma Wenbin, emboldened by the leadership’s backing, had likely gauged this from observing Old Aili.

He didn’t believe any parent could stay calm hearing their child was favored by leaders and about to be transferred from a menial job.

Sure enough, upon hearing this, Old Aili, anxious for his son’s future, quickly began to scold Maimaiti again.

But Maimaiti interrupted, “Commissioner Ma, you might be mistaken. I told Director Wang I’d first visit my parents and report to them, then immediately return to the Water Conservancy Department. In matters of national importance, I’m definitely willing to comply.”

He spoke sincerely, glancing at his father, “Right, Dad? I told you as soon as I got back, and you even urged me to see the leader this afternoon!”

Old Aili’s sharp mind caught on and responded, “Yes, yes! I told you to hurry, but you insisted on waiting until after dinner. See? You slighted the leader.”

Then, with a flattering smile, he apologized to Ma Wenbin, “I’ll deal with him later. Commissioner Ma, when do you plan to transfer him?”

Ma Wenbin, still recovering from the father-son exchange, feigned composure, “It should be within a day or two. Director Wang told me your file and position will remain at the machinery factory for now. At the wind power test station, you’ll be treated as a junior technician.”

“Already decided my待遇?” Maimaiti feigned surprise and hope, but inwardly felt conflicted—this treatment wasn’t quite what he had imagined.

Still, he comforted himself: this is only temporary; after all, a little loss is a blessing! (gritting his teeth)