Chapter 124: The Phone Rang

“Director Pei, it’s just one matter; no need to be so sentimental about it,” Wu Ya said, seeing the deep worry etched across Director Pei’s face. He decided to hold his tongue for now.

Why?

Though he, too, had been reborn at the age of thirty-nine, entering middle age once again, his previous life had been a relentless struggle—an arduous journey with hardly a moment to reflect on anyone’s inner emotional landscape. His experience was straightforward and practical: if you succeeded, smiles surrounded you; if you faltered, you faced biting cold winds alone. Naturally, he lacked the lived experiences of middle-aged men from this era, and could not fathom what it was like for someone like Director Pei—who had risen from a frontline worker to head of a factory, only to plummet sharply from the peak of his career, cast aside by the relentless tides of society.

That sorrow, that helplessness, that overwhelming sense of loss—he longed to truly understand the burdens borne by middle-aged men of this time. Simply put, he wanted to feel the hardships his parents must have endured.

“Heh, you’re still young; you don’t know what our generation went through,” Director Pei began. “In our youth, blood boiled with passion. Amidst roaring waves of enthusiasm, we marched across the vast lands of our homeland. When reality struck, we transformed from promising youths into frontline workers—but our dedication to the nation remained unchanged! We worked diligently, passionately, often putting in unpaid overtime.”

“Eventually, the young wives became grandmothers, and our efforts bore fruit. Our peers stood at the forefront of the times, becoming pillars of society! But in the end? Time wore us down, and society’s trials proved too harsh! People’s hearts shifted as life grew more comfortable; the innocence of the past was lost! Ideals were discarded, and materialism became the pursuit.”

As Director Pei spoke, his thoughts seemed to drift back to those times when the nation was awash in red banners, when the sound of clashing swords echoed along the Great Wall. His eyes took on a wistful gleam.

“Director Pei, I truly don’t know your generation’s experiences,” Wu Ya replied. “But what’s wrong with people’s hearts changing? After all, if everyone clung stubbornly to old ways, how could society progress?”

Wu Ya’s timely interjection drew out Director Pei’s deeper thoughts.

“Indeed, I won’t deny that change of heart drives progress, nor that adaptability breeds new life. But look at today’s society! Selfishness runs rampant; many drift aimlessly, doing the bare minimum. Promotion and wealth are seen as the markers of success! Nepotism is capital for advancement! Ability counts for nothing against connections! Do you think that’s fair?”

Director Pei suddenly looked up, his face etched with an anger Wu Ya had never seen before. Mixed with helplessness was an unmistakable feeling of unrecognized talent.

A university graduate, Director Pei was among the first batch of scholars after the disaster. Yet those with lesser qualifications and skills, and even those who could not perform as well in ordinary jobs, rose through connections. Many he once looked down upon had become his direct superiors, while he remained stuck in this half-alive factory, constrained at every turn. Even reasonable proposals failed to gain support or a chance to prove themselves.

One could imagine the depths of Director Pei’s frustration.

Unfulfilled.

Yet, remarkably, the injustices he faced had slowly settled deep within him over time. Had it not been for this incident, which plunged him from hopeful peaks to valleys of despair, he might have kept those feelings locked away forever.

“Heh, Director Pei, what you say is true in part, but we must also recognize that society is advancing rapidly. We should see that everything can still be beautiful—it depends on whether you can adapt, leverage circumstances, and act accordingly.”

Wu Ya had never witnessed Director Pei’s experiences firsthand and naturally could not fully empathize. Though he wished to understand his parents’ generation better, even these brief words overwhelmed him. The pent-up grievances of a disappointed man were more toxic than enlightening.

Might as well end the topic and shift the conversation.

“Yes, take me for example—I’m someone who just can’t keep up with the times. In the rush of life, the good and bad are swept together. Being able to swim in the muddy waters is a skill in itself. Since we can’t change society, then I’ll change myself. I accept it. What about you? What’s your plan?”

Director Pei, tempered by storms, stripped his pessimism away in a few words, revealing the work ethic expected of a factory chief. If the task failed, he couldn’t let fear of losing Wu Ya—the golden goose—halt progress. It was better to lay everything out and find a way forward that wouldn’t hurt Wu Ya but could still protect the interests of the Chen Si factory.

Yet—

“You accept it? Director Pei, accept what? What do you mean by what I’m going to do? What’s wrong with me that I need to have a plan?”

Wu Ya’s answer was a string of questions. Did he not understand himself?

Director Pei was momentarily at a loss.

“The plan we discussed was rejected outright by higher-ups! That means Chen Si can’t keep up with your orders! You must resolve your fabric supply issue. Which factory will you collaborate with next? Or do you want Chen Si to keep just one workshop working with other factories?”

Just one workshop working with other factories? Though Director Pei was merely repeating his earlier point, his words betrayed his reluctance to let go.

He had hoped Wu Ya would understand after such a frank discussion and show some leniency by keeping Chen Si as a supplier. But clearly, he was mistaken.

“Director Pei, why would I want to cooperate with other factories? No, no. Chen Si is fine—really fine!” For once, the usually sharp Wu Ya seemed unusually slow.

What was going on?

“Wu Ya, don’t joke around! Our plan was rejected, which means the new workshop project is dead! Chen Si won’t meet your fabric demand under these circumstances. Don’t you plan to find another textile factory to work with?”

Let’s be blunt.

Was this boy still stuck in his original idea, not waking up? Or did the blow of the plan’s failure leave him temporarily dazed? Otherwise, how could he be so out of sorts?

Yet Wu Ya remained undeterred.

“The new workshop plan is dead? Who says? When did that happen? How come I never heard about it?”

Feigning ignorance drove Director Pei to the edge of patience.

“You don’t know? Didn’t I just tell you? That just happened! Are you crazy, or deliberately making a fool of me?”

“Wu Ya, can you be serious? I’m talking business here!”

At that moment, Director Pei’s expression hardened. He acknowledged Wu Ya’s abilities and admired him, but that was no excuse to mock him. Though he lacked the power to secure the plan, it was no reason to humiliate him.

Just because he was a gifted newcomer didn’t mean he could look down on everyone else. When Director Pei was pouring his youthful passion into his work, Wu Ya was still swimming in the sea of experience.

“Exactly, I’m talking business too! Director Pei, when was the plan for the new workshop—where we advance funds and then buy back—actually cancelled? Have we received any official notice or confirmation that the plan was terminated?”

Wu Ya’s face grew serious, mockingly earnest as he played along. Earlier, he had merely been trying to gauge how this generation coped with failure and the torment it brought, hoping to understand his parents’ hardships. Instead, he’d only heard a litany of complaints and negativity. Now, he sought to lift the old man’s spirits with a surprise.

After all, Director Pei’s despondency stemmed from the blow, but without Wu Ya’s encouragement, it wouldn’t have been so severe. He felt responsible for brightening his mood.

“A notice? Wu Ya, what’s gotten into you today? Why so childish? I just spoke to the leaders, and my idea was shot down immediately! No chance to explain, no official notice, no formal reply!”

Director Pei was almost in tears, exhausted from explaining. How could Wu Ya not understand? He was too young, inexperienced—though successful, he underestimated the complexity of bureaucratic processes, especially dealings with leadership.

You open your mouth, and they tell you to shut it. What’s the point of speaking? You’d only get thrown out. Even this half-dead factory chief might get fired afterward.

“But Director Pei, from where I stand, no formal notice means there’s still hope! Maybe you’ll get a call soon, asking you to return to the district office and present your plan again!”

Despite Director Pei’s near tears, Wu Ya maintained a serious look, stubbornly clinging to his naive logic: no notice equals an opportunity.

“You! I—”

Director Pei was utterly speechless.

Yes, that would normally be the case. But hadn’t he just said that before he could even speak, his proposal was rejected? Before he opened his mouth, no one even knew what it was about. What notice? What call? What re-presentation to the district office? Dream on!

Leaders avoid spending money like the plague, especially on a half-dead factory like his. From their perspective, any proposal he makes has only one goal: money. They never consider that he might bring them benefits.

So rejection was inevitable. He had resigned himself to it.

“Heh, Director Pei, don’t be so down. I’m the stubborn type who won’t turn back until hitting a brick wall. I think this isn’t over. You accept it, but I don’t! I’ll keep fighting. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Maybe my sincerity will move heaven and earth and bring us a sudden surprise!”

A sudden surprise?

Director Pei shot Wu Ya several annoyed glances.

If you don’t give me a sudden scare, I’ll be truly amazed! At this point, ‘moving heaven and earth’ is a fantasy. You’re too kind-hearted about the district office leaders. If you really do all that, the only thing you’ll get is a head full of gray hairs and a drenched shirt.

So, Director Pei ignored Wu Ya and hurriedly walked away, heading to the workshop to clear his mind. Better to avoid being tangled up in this boy’s endless, nonsensical chatter, which threatened to break his already fragile spirits. Life was more important.

His steps quickened, as if afraid Wu Ya might catch up again. He shook his head—intelligence didn’t always come with emotional wisdom.

“Director Pei, wait!”

But before he could get far, Wu Ya beat him to the door, blocking the way with a smile.

“Director Pei, I think your phone is ringing!”

Ringing? Director Pei hadn’t heard it. He instinctively looked back.

“Beep beep beep…”

Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine; his hairs stood on end. Had a ghost possessed this boy? The moment he turned, the phone actually rang.

Before he could react further—

“Director Pei, pick up the phone! Maybe it’s good news! Maybe it’s the district office calling you to re-present the plan!”

Wu Ya urged eagerly beside his ear.

Hmm?

Yes.

Director Pei turned mechanically, stepping toward the phone.

“Hello, who’s this?”

Grasping the receiver, the greeting was ingrained in his bones. As for Wu Ya’s hopeful ramblings, he paid no mind and certainly did not believe them. He even shot Wu Ya a sharp glare for the antics.

But then—

“Yes! I’m coming right away! I won’t keep you waiting!”

Director Pei, who had been ready to sit down, straightened instantly. His impatience vanished, replaced by a deferential tone and a strange look of delight in his eyes—like someone who had just won a fortune in the lottery.