Chapter 26: I Am the Son of a Farmer

Sun Xiufen’s question left Yang Dong with no choice but to nod and answer truthfully, “Director Sun, I only just realized it myself.”

“It’s alright, just keep calling me Auntie,” she said. “We’re at home—there’s no need for so many formalities.” Sun Xiufen waved her hand with a gentle smile, then turned to Tian Guanghan, her expression turning stern as she spoke in a low, authoritative tone: “Old Tian, my daughter’s upbringing is not for you to comment on. Our family is perfectly capable of raising our own child.”

She was clearly displeased at Tian Guanghan’s criticism of her daughter. Her impression of him had never been good—he was hardly capable, always running around, currying favor, and frequently showing up in this Huanhai Complex, supposedly to visit some leader or other. Everyone knew as much; there was no need to lay bare the truth.

“Of course, Director Sun, I really didn’t know the girl was your daughter,” Tian Guanghan said hurriedly. “I only knew you had a son. Your family’s secrecy is something else…”

Regret gnawed at him; if only he’d known that Guan Jiujie was Sun Xiufen’s daughter, he’d have spoken up for her at the KTV that night. Now, it was too late—they’d well and truly offended Sun Xiufen. Of course, the Municipal Propaganda Department didn’t have jurisdiction over the City Administration, and Sun Xiufen was only the executive deputy director. Her rank was technically half a step above his—she held the full division rank, while he was deputy—but they were both leaders, and reputation mattered.

“Secretary Tian, are you suggesting that I should report my family’s circumstances to you?” Sun Xiufen’s face grew cold as she fixed Tian Guanghan with a mocking glare.

He quickly waved his hands, forcing a laugh. “Of course not, Director Sun—you misunderstand.”

“Well then, I won’t intrude on your family gathering any longer. I’ll take my leave.” He forced a smile, adding, “Another day, I’ll be sure to treat you to a drink and apologize properly.”

Realizing that staying any longer would only humiliate him further, Tian Guanghan beat a hasty retreat, resentment simmering in his heart. This old woman, couldn’t she spare him a little dignity? If he became secretary-general of the City Administration in the future, would she dare mock him to his face again? If so, he would make sure to pay her back in front of the mayor. After all, the mayor wasn’t just the government’s top official, but also the deputy party secretary, with full authority over the Propaganda Department’s personnel.

Climbing into his BMW, Tian Guanghan sped into the Huanhai Complex in disarray.

“Come on, Xiaodong, come upstairs with me,” Sun Xiufen said, withdrawing her gaze and smiling warmly at Yang Dong.

Yang Dong, ever perceptive, immediately offered, “Auntie, let me push the bike for you.”

She smiled again, not missing the opportunity to let him show his courtesy. The more she looked at Yang Dong, the more satisfied she felt—this child was truly remarkable.

“Xiaodong, what do your parents do? I’m genuinely curious—what kind of family raises such a good child?” Sun Xiufen linked arms with her daughter and patted Yang Dong’s shoulder with her other hand, smiling as she asked.

A faint, almost self-conscious look appeared on Yang Dong’s face as he lowered his head. “Auntie, my family are farmers. My parents both work the fields in Xiaoyang Village, Xiashui Town, Kaiyang County.”

Of course, this hint of inferiority was a deliberate act. Ever since discovering Sun Xiufen’s position, Yang Dong had been calculating—call it cunning or simply a strategy. But it was not hypocrisy; in officialdom, anyone without a bit of cunning would be devoured whole, as he had been in his former, miserable life. Anything to his advantage, so long as it wasn’t illegal or immoral, was fair game.

He was using his acting skills now to quickly close the distance between them.

Sun Xiufen raised her eyebrows, a hint of disapproval in her voice. “What’s wrong with being a farmer’s child, Xiaodong? Does that embarrass you? Who, when tracing back three generations, doesn’t come from farming stock? That attitude is a problem!”

She was disappointed that Yang Dong seemed to think so little of his background, but he was unfazed. First, you let someone feel disappointed; then, you make them feel pity. Only then can you truly close the gap.

He shook his head with a self-deprecating smile. “Auntie, I’ve never been ashamed of my family or my identity. My parents scrimped and saved to send me to school—I got a score of 645 on the college entrance exam and was admitted to Jijiang University. I was only ten points short of getting into Tsinghua or Peking University. Even so, I’m the pride of my family, my village, and even Xiashui Town. My parents have worked themselves to the bone; seeing their backs bent and their hair gone gray pains me deeply. But, Auntie, do you know? These days, being a farmer’s son is a disadvantage.”

“My ex-girlfriend, Han Wen—her family looked down on me because of my background. They thought I wasn’t good enough for them, even after I joined the Municipal Office’s General Affairs Section. They thought I was going nowhere. Not long ago—just half a month—she betrayed me and got engaged to a colleague of mine. They’re probably getting married soon.”

“Auntie, do you still think it’s an honor to be from a farming family? I’ve never despised my origins, but in this environment, what can I do?”

His eyes reddened, and a flush of humiliation and anger crossed his face as he clenched his fists.

Guan Jiujie listened to Yang Dong’s story, her heart aching at his pain. She knew Han Wen from work, but had never known the details. Hearing this now, she felt Han Wen had truly gone too far.

“Mom, I remember Grandpa’s family was quite well-off, but Dad’s side were farmers. Yet you and Dad get along just fine. Why is that?” Guan Jiujie asked, shooting her mother a meaningful look.

Sun Xiufen understood her daughter’s intention, but also wanted to reassure Yang Dong not to lose confidence because of his background.

“Actually, your grandfather was a farmer too. He only improved his lot after earning merit in the war. But he never forgot his roots. Your father also came from a farming family, but he studied hard and had ambition. That’s what I liked about him. See how well your father’s done now? He’s already the city—”

But Guan Jiujie’s face changed and she quickly interrupted her mother. “So, Mom, what are we having for dinner tonight?” she said, giving her mother another meaningful look, though this time Sun Xiufen didn’t quite catch her meaning. Why stop me?

“Thank you, Auntie, thank you, Jiujie. I’ll keep a level head and won’t let you down,” Yang Dong said, understanding that the mother and daughter were trying to encourage him and bolster his confidence. He was grateful.

However, hearing Sun Xiufen mention Guan Jiujie’s father piqued his curiosity. If Sun Xiufen was the executive deputy director of the city's Propaganda Department, then Jiujie’s father was likely someone extraordinary as well.

“Auntie, what does Jiujie’s father do?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

He didn’t think the question was out of line; Sun Xiufen had almost said as much before being interrupted by her daughter. Clearly, something was being hidden.

Sun Xiufen was about to answer with a smile when she felt her arm pinched lightly by Guan Jiujie.

“You little rascal, what are you up to?” she scolded, glancing back at her daughter.

What was up with Jiujie today? She was never this contrary.

“Mom, show me the new home! I haven’t been yet,” Guan Jiujie said, pouting and clinging to her mother’s arm.

“You’re already twenty-five and still such a child… Whoever marries you in the future will have their hands full,” Sun Xiufen sighed helplessly, then turned to Yang Dong. “Xiaodong, just leave the bike here—we’re home!”

Yang Dong quickly nodded, parking the bicycle under the building and retrieving the groceries from the basket before following Sun Xiufen inside.

The building wasn’t tall—only three stories—but was clad in gold and red, giving it an air of stately grandeur. He glanced at the building number.

Huanhai Complex, Building 7.

Impossible…

A sudden jolt ran through Yang Dong. He’d never been to Huanhai Complex, but he’d heard countless rumors: only members of the city’s standing committee could live in Buildings 7 or 9. Retired municipal leaders, as well as those from the People’s Congress and the Political Consultative Conference, lived in Building 8. Seven signified “rising,” eight meant “falling,” and nine stood for longevity—such was the symbolism.

Sun Xiufen was only the executive deputy director of the Propaganda Department, not a member of the standing committee. Why was she leading him to Building 7?

He was puzzled, but followed the two women inside.

Building 7 had just six units. Sun Xiufen opened the door to Unit 4.

Yang Dong’s heart pounded faster. In this three-story building, each unit was essentially a luxury apartment—really, a private villa. Each household occupied all three floors.

That meant Unit 4 of Building 7—the entire unit—was Sun Xiufen’s new home.

New home?

The most important thing was that it was new—they’d just moved in.

But Sun Xiufen wasn’t a standing committee member, and yet only standing committee members lived in Building 7.

Which standing committee member in Lingyun City was newly arrived? And had the surname Guan…

The answer was suddenly clear as day.