Nanting Village lay just east of the town center. From the township government compound, it was only a six- or seven-minute bike ride to the village committee courtyard.

The courtyard itself wasn’t large, but it bordered Nanting Lake—a stretch of water covering some thirty mu—giving the place an unexpectedly open feel. A row of seven old-style single-story rooms served as the committee’s office. To the east stood Nanting Village Primary School; to the west, the Nanting Lake Juice Factory, founded in the early 1980s.

In its early days, the factory relied on the fruit orchards of Mount Suyun, producing canned fruit under the name Nanting Village Cannery.

By the ’80s and ’90s, several state-owned canneries had already sprung up in Dongzhou, and competition was fierce. Business had been mediocre at best.

Everything changed when Zhou Haiming, then Party Secretary of the village, took over. He shifted strategy, introduced pressing and bottling lines, and began producing fruit juice beverages—a novelty in the domestic market at the time. Gradually, the products gained traction across Dongzhou and neighboring cities. By the mid-to-late ’80s, the factory was clearing one to three million yuan in annual profits, earning its place as a star enterprise in Shishan County. It was eventually renamed Nanting Lake Juice Factory and registered under the Nanting Lake trademark.

When Zhou Haiming died in a car accident in early 1990, the factory had already accumulated over ten million yuan in net assets. It was the pride of the county—and the financial backbone of Nanting Village.

Then Xiao Yujun took over as Party Secretary.

Instead of building on that foundation, he hollowed it out. He siphoned off the factory’s assets while focusing his energy on running his own juice operation and construction materials business. Later, he even acquired Xikou Cement Plant. Under his watch, Nanting Lake Juice Factory had no chance of thriving.

Within the village committee, aside from Xiao Yujun, He Hong, and Gu Peijun, there were three other members. Though they had little say in the factory’s management, they still benefited from it—small perks here and there.

During holidays, the factory would issue bonuses to the village. Some of their family members held cushy jobs at the plant—light workloads, but better pay than ordinary workers.

So they followed Xiao Yujun’s lead without question. Even as the factory declined, no one bothered to investigate. After all, the losses belonged to the collective. Personally, they felt no pain.

But now, with the factory’s dark dealings laid bare, those three suddenly realized something: compared to Xiao Yujun’s grand-scale embezzlement—his sleight of hand and wholesale asset stripping—the scraps they’d received over the past few years amounted to nothing.

The imbalance hit hard.

At lunch in town and later that afternoon back at the village committee, the three didn’t hold back. They cursed Xiao Yujun as a heartless bastard who had squandered everything the village had painstakingly built.

At present, the factory owed over five million yuan in loans to the township credit cooperative and other institutions, along with more than four million in unpaid bills to fruit growers and suppliers of raw materials and equipment.

Aside from a warehouse stuffed with unsold inventory, the factory’s accounts held less than one hundred thousand yuan in liquid funds. Production had long since ground to a halt, and wages hadn’t been paid for two months.

The massive stockpile in the warehouse was largely the result of events earlier in the year. When word spread that the township planned to audit the factory, Xiao Yujun grew wary. He deliberately crippled operations, hoping to force both the village committee and the township government to accelerate the factory’s restructuring.

All existing distributors stopped placing orders. Several veteran salespeople were reassigned by Xiao Yujun to Xikou Juice Factory. For nearly four or five months, sales had been completely paralyzed, leaving inventory to pile up with no outlet.

…

…

That afternoon, they first returned to the village committee compound. Gu Peijun convened a formal but perfunctory meeting of the village leadership, passing a resolution to appoint Xiao Liang as deputy director of Nanting Lake Juice Factory. A draft employment contract was drawn up, and Xiao Liang’s office was assigned in the factory’s administration building.

The factory covered about sixty mu. Aside from two main production buildings and a three-story office building, there were warehouses and other supporting facilities—and still plenty of undeveloped land for expansion.

The office building, clad in white ceramic tiles, stood on the western shore of Nanting Lake. Between it and the water lay a garden of five or six mu, planted with flowers and greenery. By mid-June, the blossoms had faded, but the foliage was lush—another legacy left behind by Zhou Haiming.

Departments like sales, finance, quality inspection, administration, and the labor union were all housed in the building.

With Xiao Yujun and He Hong arrested, and two deputy factory directors along with the administrative office head taken in for questioning, the place felt hollow.

As Xiao Liang followed Gu Peijun inside, a handful of idle staff chatting in the corridors quickly scattered back into their offices at the sight of them.

Having previously handled the factory’s financial audit, Xiao Liang recognized most of the dozen or so office staff. The one who stood out most was Zhang Feili, deputy section chief of the administrative office—and the newlywed daughter-in-law of Deputy Party Secretary Zhou Jianqi.

Production had been suspended for some time. Most workers had been sent home on indefinite leave. The office building remained staffed only because Gu Peijun had just taken over operations as acting director.

After gathering the remaining staff to announce the township’s decision and the village’s appointment of Xiao Liang, Gu Peijun left—he still had matters to attend to back in the village.

Xiao Liang, who had previously focused on financial audits and rarely visited the workshop floor, spent the afternoon alone walking through the production area. The factory had been idle for over a month, with only two or three workers left to keep watch. He took his time examining the production lines, committing every detail to memory.

By around 4:30 p.m., he was heading back to the office to organize his thoughts before calling it a day when the sudden roar of an engine echoed from the factory gate.

Xiao Liang frowned slightly.

Motorcycles weren’t exactly rare in Yunshe Town anymore—but a heavy bike? That was something he hadn’t seen around here.

He walked forward and spotted a red Suzuki parked just inside the gate, near the southeast corner of the office building. A young man in a floral shirt straddled the bike.

Floral shirts were all the rage these days.

The young man kept revving the engine even as he held the brake, as if determined to make sure the entire factory knew he’d arrived.

Xiao Liang didn’t bother memorizing the license plate the other day outside Tian Wenli’s apartment—but he was certain this was the same red Suzuki.

He studied the rider.

Though he hadn’t met Zhou Jianqi’s son, Zhou Bin, in his previous life, the resemblance was unmistakable—short, sparse eyebrows, narrow eyes, a flat nose with flared nostrils. It was as if the father’s face had been stamped onto the son.

Xiao Liang stood off to the side, expression cold.

Zhou Bin stopped revving but cast a sidelong glance, his chin tilted upward in disdain.

He couldn’t be bothered with some nobody who looked like he had a problem with him.

Two staff members exiting the office building spotted the scene at the gate and promptly retreated inside.

Xiao Liang glanced toward the building. Figures could be seen watching from the second and third floors. Zhang Feili was nowhere in sight—perhaps she’d already left, or perhaps she was too embarrassed to show her face.

He turned his gaze toward the gatehouse. The elderly guard, Dong Dacheng, was nearing retirement. At the moment, he was peeking out through the window, watching the scene unfold.

Hands in his pockets, Xiao Liang stood there quietly…