Volume One, Chapter 16: Verbal Duel with Liu Xueqin

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Zhang Weimin stepped out of the workshop, shaking his shoulders and holding his phone, then casually strolled over to Liu Xueqin’s office.

“Hey, Old Zhang, you’re back!” Liu greeted warmly.

“Come in, have a seat!” Liu busied himself making tea as he spoke.

“How was the trip to Shanghai this time?” he asked.

Zhang Weimin tossed his phone onto the desk.

“The results were pretty good, even better than I expected.”

Liu placed a teacup in front of Zhang, glanced at the phone on the table, then settled onto the sofa himself.

“Tell me the details then.”

Zhang recounted how he had unexpectedly met Tang Na on the train, then saw Professor Zhao, and finally narrated the negotiations with various design institutes and construction companies.

He sipped his tea, blowing off the tea leaves floating on the surface, waiting for Liu’s response.

Liu leaned back on the sofa, fingers interlaced, brows furrowed, lips pursed, silent for a long while.

After a minute’s pause, Liu glanced at the phone on the table.

“What’s that?”

Zhang noticed Liu’s displeasure but didn’t care whether he was happy or not.

“It’s a phone—Motorola’s newest model. By the way, you’ll need to reimburse me for the clothes and the phone later.”

Liu raised an eyebrow slightly—an expression Zhang caught instantly—and Zhang thought to himself, this guy’s tight-fisted.

“The clothes were nearly twenty thousand yuan, the phone and call fees less than thirty thousand, plus my travel expenses, roughly fifty thousand altogether,” Zhang said.

Liu sat upright, a troubled look crossing his face.

“Sigh, Old Zhang, you see, buying all this without consulting me—now you want me to reimburse fifty thousand all at once. It’s hard for me to explain that to the finance department.”

Zhang thought, just as expected, a stingy fellow.

Liu continued:

“Also, you promised donations to the university, promised technical promotion fees to the design institute, and the most outrageous—guaranteed minimum profits to the construction companies… these are big matters. By past practice, such things require meetings of the factory leadership team and approval from the bureau before decisions can be made. But you, without asking or reporting, just made decisions all on your own…”

Zhang couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Stop, stop, stop. Liu, acting factory director, can you open your mind a little?”

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Liu looked utterly confused.

“What do you mean? What’s this ‘open your mind’ thing?”

Back then, the term “open your mind” wasn’t yet popular.

Zhang slammed his teacup on the table.

“Opening your mind means don’t be so petty, don’t be so stingy.”

Liu’s temper flared.

“That’s way too disrespectful to me, the factory director. What rank are you? How dare you talk to the factory director like that? Don’t forget—you’re just a worker!”

Zhang’s temper rose too. He stood up, one foot on the coffee table, finger pointed accusingly at Liu.

“So what if I’m a worker? Weren’t you the one who came begging me at my home to figure out a way? Now you think I’m stealing your thunder because I wear clothes worth tens of thousands and carry a phone worth over twenty thousand? My style’s bigger than yours, the ‘acting’ factory director, huh?”

Zhang emphasized the word “acting” with a heavy tone, then continued.

“You say I don’t report or ask for approval? If I had to report everything to you, by the time you finish your meetings and reports, the opportunity would be long gone! When out on a mission, one doesn’t always obey orders blindly! Got it?”

Liu’s anger erupted as well. He puffed up his chest and argued back.

“Listen here, Zhang Weimin, don’t think making a few cooperation deals means you’re something special. Without my signature and seal, those agreements are worthless!”

Zhang grabbed the teacup from the table and smashed it onto the floor. The cup shattered into pieces with a crisp sound; tea and leaves splattered everywhere.

“You’re such a fool, Liu! Looking at you, thinking your signature scares me? I tell you, those two or three hundred million worth of deals, I could take them to any factory and they’d treat me like a lord. And you, as acting director, you can just forget about your position—I’ll see if I can get you removed!”

Zhang even dragged out Liu’s childhood nickname in his fury.

Liu, who had been puffing out his chest moments ago, instantly deflated.

“Sorry, Old Zhang, I got carried away just now.”

He stood and brewed another cup of tea for Zhang.

“Look, put those agreements aside for now. Our leadership team will hold a meeting and report to the bureau. If there’s no major objection, we’ll sign them then.”

Zhang sneered disdainfully.

“Forget it. I’ve changed my mind. These contracts won’t be signed like this!”

With that, Zhang got up and left without looking back.

Liu chased after him a few steps, then helplessly shook his head, standing still.

Outside the office, a crowd had gathered, drawn by the noise of their quarrel.

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“What are you all staring at? Go back to your work!”

Soon, rumors flew all over the factory.

Some said Liu Xueqin was petty, throwing away a three-hundred-million-yuan order just out of spite.

Others said Zhang Weimin was too arrogant, overshadowing the factory director and ignoring his authority.

When Zhang returned home, Liu Fangfang ran up to greet him.

“Old Zhang, you’re back!”

Liu eagerly took the bag off his shoulder, then hurried to bring him a basin of water to wash his face. While he washed, she dusted off the dirt from his clothes with a little broom.

After he finished, she quickly handed him a towel.

“Old Zhang, are you tired? Want me to massage your shoulders and legs?”

Zhang was overwhelmed, shaking his head in disbelief. He’d become naturally immune to her now and quickly pushed the towel back to her.

“No need! I don’t enjoy that!”

With that, he ducked into his room.

As soon as Zhang took off his outerwear and lay on the kang (heated brick bed), Liu entered again, placing a cup of tea on the edge.

“Old Zhang, have some water and rest for a bit. What do you want to eat later? I’ll start cooking right away.”

Zhang replied with impatience:

“I don’t want to eat anything. Go away, I want to sleep.”

“Alright,” Liu said, quickly pulling over a thin quilt.

“Cover yourself so you don’t catch a cold… I’m going out now. Call me if you need anything.”

Zhang waved her off as she backed out.

Looks like Liu Fangfang really knew how to look after her husband—too bad the old Zhang was too weak!

Lying on the kang, Zhang thought, Liu Xueqin’s mind was too narrow. Was the factory director’s authority really that important? How could such a man improve the company’s performance?

He made a silent vow: he couldn’t count on Liu Xueqin; he was a hopeless deadweight!