Xiao Liang arrived at the juice factory to find Gu Peijun already sitting in the general manager’s office. He knocked once and stepped inside.

This had once been Xiao Yujun’s territory.

The office wasn’t lavish, but it carried a certain old-world weight: a row of elmwood bookcases carved in Ming-and-Qing style, a large executive desk to match, and a set of genuine leather sofas. In the corner stood a few oddly shaped yew bonsai, rough and unpolished in a way that somehow made the room feel distinctive rather than refined.

Liu Weiwei entered just in time, knocking politely before stepping in to pour Xiao Liang a cup of tea.

The factory office director and two former deputy managers had already been taken away by the police for investigation. For now, the entire administrative office—essentially the general affairs section—was left with only two girls: Zhang Feili and Liu Weiwei.

Zhang Feili was only a year older than Xiao Liang, yet she had already been married to Zhou Bin for two years.

Over the past couple of years, Nanting Lake Juice Factory had built a fair amount of local fame—not just as Shishan County’s former “star enterprise,” but also because of its so-called “Twin Beauties of Nanting Lake”: Zhang Feili and He Hong.

It was hard to imagine that a township-level factory could produce two women of such striking appearance. Either one of them, if placed on the bustling streets of Dongzhou, would have drawn countless passersby to stop and stare.

Liu Weiwei, two years younger than Xiao Liang, was far less eye-catching in comparison. Word was she had just started dating someone, not yet married.

By Xiao Liang’s standards from his previous life, she would not even qualify as a “pretty girl.”

She had small acne marks scattered across her face, dressed plainly in a short-sleeved dacron blouse and standard factory-issued work trousers that hung a little loose. Her petite frame didn’t stand out either—unlike Zhang Feili’s tall, striking figure or Su Jing’s more explosive, commanding physique.

In short, she looked ordinary in every sense, the kind of girl who would never be part of any beauty comparison.

Sitting on the sofa, Xiao Liang watched as Liu Weiwei finished pouring tea and handed a document to Gu Peijun for signing. As she moved, she habitually clasped her hands behind her back, subtly rocking on her heels. From that angle, her height seemed modest—about 1.62 or 1.63 meters—but her proportions were good, giving her a surprisingly upright presence.

Beyond her healthy, evenly balanced build, her exposed skin carried a light wheat tone—not porcelain white, but fine and smooth.

If one ignored the acne, her facial features were actually quite delicate and lively. Her bone structure around the forehead, cheeks, and jaw was also quite well-shaped—unlike many women who had obvious flaws somewhere in their features.

The acne, in truth, was just hormonal imbalance typical of her age, and it also hinted that although she had a boyfriend, she was still fairly restrained in temperament.

In short, from Xiao Liang’s perspective—now carrying the sensibilities of a man who had lived twice—Liu Weiwei had a certain understated charm.

……

……

“Why were you staring at Liu Weiwei for so long?” Gu Peijun teased after signing the document and watching her leave with the door gently closed. “Don’t tell me you’ve got ideas about her. She’s got a boyfriend, you know.”

“Once bitten by a snake, afraid of a rope for ten years,” Xiao Liang said dryly. “I don’t even dare think about that kind of thing anymore. I was just thinking about staffing.”

He pushed a stack of papers onto the antique elmwood desk.

“This is the draft plan for restoring production and operations at the juice factory. I pulled an all-nighter to write it, then had my brother revise and transcribe it. Take a look and see what needs adding. But once you’re done with it—burn it. Don’t let anyone else see it.”

To get things moving quickly, they still needed Gu Peijun to win over Wang Xingmin’s trust. Xiao Liang had no intention of taking credit in front of the township leadership.

“Huh? You did all this in one night?” Gu Peijun flipped through the densely packed pages, then looked over at his own rough stack of handwritten notes tucked under a paperweight. With a wry smile, he handed them over.

“I barely slept last night either. Came in first thing this morning and still only managed two or three pages in four or five hours. Comparing people really is enough to make you want to die of frustration.”

“Paperwork means nothing on its own,” Xiao Liang said calmly.

In his previous life, he had managed production systems far more advanced and rigorously structured than anything a 1990s township factory could imagine.

Then he added with a faint smile, “Of course, even in Dongzhou, there probably aren’t many people who can write cleaner documents than me.”

“But you still need to revise this twice and turn it into your own voice. You can’t submit it to Wang Xingmin like this.”

Just as Gu Peijun was about to start reading, Xiao Liang stopped him.

“Don’t rush into that. First, we need to gather the people we can actually use.”

“You’re taking Liu Weiwei and Zhang Feili too?” Gu Peijun groaned. “At least leave me one person!”

“How many people in the whole factory even have high school education?” Xiao Liang said. “We centralize them for now. Once we recover some cash flow and get production running again, we’ll return them to you.”

“Zhang Feili too?” Gu Peijun hesitated.

She was the daughter-in-law of Zhou Jianqi, the township Party deputy secretary. Even if Zhou wasn’t directly involved in framing Xiao Liang, his close ties with Xiao Yujun were no secret in Yunshe.

Taking Zhang Feili into their core team made Gu Peijun uneasy.

“We’re doing everything above board,” Xiao Liang said casually. “Even if she reports back to Zhou Jianqi, we’ve got nothing to hide. If anything, not including her would make us look guilty.”

“Fine… I’ll follow your lead,” Gu Peijun sighed.

He was three or four years older than Xiao Liang, yet for the first time felt like those extra years had been wasted on a dog.

Still, he accepted it. Reluctantly agreeing to strip the factory of its few high school-educated staff felt like a bitter pill.

In the 1990s, this was still an era when a high school diploma carried real weight. Graduates were assigned state jobs, offered urban household registration, and rarely ended up in rural township enterprises.

Yet Nanting Lake Juice Factory, despite once being prosperous, only had nine remaining employees with high school education after the arrests and investigations.

Among them was the last surviving sales clerk from the collapsed sales department—Xu Xiaodong—a recent hire who still carried more bookishness than experience.

He had only been at the factory for half a year and had previously handled internal clerical work, with no real exposure to sales or marketing.

There were also three women: Zhang Feili and Liu Weiwei in administration, and Wu Qiyan, deputy head of the finance department.

The remaining five were production and quality control staff: the production manager, two deputy production managers, the quality control director, and one inspector.

These nine people—scattered across departments—were essentially the last remaining backbone of the factory.

And in this era, such a group of “educated elites” in a township factory… truly was a rarity.