Chapter 42: You Really Have Someone Powerful Behind You

Wolong held her child tightly, anxious to squeeze through, her hands trembling even more severely than Let Weidong’s legs. Yet she remained standing there. Even though she had personally experienced being apprehended.

Fengchu tugged at her sister, “Don’t be afraid, brother-in-law will surely manage!”

Dong Xueying’s attention was unexpectedly diverted, “Don’t talk nonsense. If you’re not up to it, don’t waste his time; he’ll become a great hero!”

Her younger sister linked arms with her affectionately, “I think he and you, holding Xiaodie, look perfect together.”

Dong Xueying tiptoed to peer ahead, “Besides, I’m angry now!”

Let Weidong, unlike her, didn’t get angry. He addressed the few familiar faces before him, “Every citizen is obligated to pay taxes according to the law, but the tax authorities also have procedures they must follow. Everything should be handled according to proper process, shouldn’t it?”

He chuckled inwardly, thinking, “When it comes to rhetoric, I’m far more practiced than you. This is dialogue from forty years in the future.”

But he truly hadn’t expected that in these times, “procedure” meant nothing at all.

If an official decided to target you, would you even dare to resist?

All the drivers and laborers nearby stared wide-eyed, thinking, “He really is worthy of being a salesman from a military factory—impressive!” Even though no one spoke, their gaze said it all.

Without them, the situation might have escalated instantly.

Now everyone was confused, as if the script had suddenly changed.

He spoke of resisting taxes in a refined way, yet his cooperation brimmed with confidence.

That’s why law enforcement fears cultured rogues.

Even the word “procedure” was new to them, leaving them bewildered.

Someone managed to ask, “What procedure?”

Let Weidong grinned. At this, the tax security guard perked up, “When you receive a report, shouldn’t you investigate according to the clues, confirm the facts, and then act? Have you seen the account books? Is there a record of transactions? Have all levels of tax offices confirmed that they haven’t received the relevant tax reports? If you don’t do this groundwork and just jump to enforcement, with ten or eight false reports every day, won’t you be exhausted?”

When it came to other government agencies, Let Weidong couldn’t recite all the jargon. But in tax offices, as a security guard, he was the first line of reception and inquiry, filtering out non-compliant cases for the counters. He knew these terms by heart.

The surrounding crowd all stepped back in awe, raising their arms in admiration. Whether or not they understood, they felt his argument was solid.

The uniformed officers were dumbfounded.

More knowledgeable than they were?!

And they couldn’t even get angry—he was expressing concern for their workload.

By now, Let Weidong was certain that this was the work of the old shrew.

Who else would accuse him of tax evasion?

Still, he needed to be cautious. After repelling the tax officers, he turned and addressed the senior police officer with a gentle smile, “And you, sir, is there something you need from me?”

The white-uniformed officer was much more composed, “Are you a salesman in the Sales Department of Hongguang Factory? Which Hongguang Factory, and where is it?”

Let Weidong calmly produced his work permit and the accompanying letter of introduction.

Though the photo was attached later and official seals were not as common in these years, the manager at the photo studio had skillfully rubbed some ink onto the picture, making it look as if a stamp had just been smudged.

It was a common sight.

Most importantly, the registration photo exuded a distinguished air—what people nowadays would call the “seahorse style,” the classic portrait banned in civil service exams. This format had been mastered by expert photographers for a century. Refer to the famous Ling embroidery portraits or marshal images to see the template.

The “seahorse style” was merely a low-cost, internet-based template made universal by AI, making everyone appear uniformly grand and indistinct. The stark contrast with real photos led some departments to ban it outright.

But a true artist’s registration photo enhanced one's features and temperament without fabrication, magnifying strengths and concealing flaws. Hair was left untrimmed, styled with wax on site, blemishes cleared with a touch of powder, and perfect lighting crafted with several lamps.

In these times, most people were lucky to have a cloth backdrop for a registration photo.

His was a top-tier artistic portrait, deep and wise!

The young policeman, barely in his twenties, unconsciously straightened his back, as if in the presence of an important figure, and addressed the younger man beneath him, “You… weren’t you working in transport in Shangzhou before? How did you end up at Hongguang Factory? There’s no address here.”

His tone softened considerably.

Let Weidong leaned in and whispered, “It’s a third-tier factory in the mountainous region of Wuxian, Jiangzhou, specializing in satellite and space material refining. I can give you the mailbox number and registration phone for verification. It’s transitioning from the Ministry of Metallurgical Industry to local management. I helped them sell a batch of products, became a salesman, and am now also assisting several optical military factories in Xishan with sales. Oh, you can call the police station in South District Two, Jiangzhou—they know the Hongguang Factory’s office, and have dealt with me before.”

Everyone present, regardless of education—from laborers to drivers to tax officers—could see the policeman’s expression shifting.

Though professional habit demanded composure, he couldn’t help but react.

Words like “satellite” and “space” carried significant weight, and the mention of several military factories demanded respect.

Police were used to all sorts of wild lies and would instinctively doubt everything.

But he’d directly suggested checking with the police station—no need for external investigation, just internal consultation would yield answers.

And he was absolutely confident, knowing they would provide a satisfactory response.

This was no trivial matter.

Even though Jiangzhou and Shangzhou had no hierarchical relationship, Jiangzhou was a large, independently administered city—a place smaller towns looked up to.

For its police to clearly remember this person meant he had deep connections.

The policeman’s expression turned friendly, even with a smile, “Ah, yes, that’s not something to broadcast everywhere. I’ll confirm with them.”

Let Weidong continued quietly, “The policy for independent cities started just last February. Jiangzhou’s commercial atmosphere is now completely different from here. I sold five hundred tape recorders shipped from the coast in South District; over a hundred were bought by the police, and one district even used public funds to distribute them to every station, actively promoting a commercial environment…”

He still knew the boundaries. In Jiangzhou, he’d never sought favors from the police or neighborhood committees—just wanted his store left alone, his parents untroubled. Sending two tape recorders as gifts was no big deal, normal for police-community solidarity.

Now Shangzhou was a web of complex struggles—from official ideology and reform routes, to the old shrew relentlessly targeting him.

At this time, offering gifts to police was not a wise move.

But it was a reminder for this hard-working, unpromoted veteran officer.

Anyone involved in the series of cases before and after the Wan Shang Trading Company never gained much.

Because a decade later, it was clear the affair was foolish—local conservative forces fiercely suppressing reform and opening.

A lifetime label that could never be shed.

Sure enough, the young policeman’s eyes brightened. He turned his head and whispered, “Really?”

Let Weidong nodded, “If you get the chance to visit… No, just call anyone you know at District Two or any Jiangzhou police station and ask about the situation. You’ll see—it’s the general trend, and it won’t change just because Shangzhou is closed and remote, it’ll just be slower…”

Now, everyone seeing the policeman’s expression became a bit respectful!

It was as if they'd seen a ghost!

Little Let, do you have some remarkable backing?

And then, unexpectedly, the climax arrived.

A child who had been helping haul sand in the morning was now holding a stack of newspapers, freshly delivered downriver from Jiangzhou.

A skilled newsboy scanned the headlines quickly, seeking something that would attract buyers.

He was startled to find “Shangzhou” mentioned in the papers, and immediately ran over with his bundle, shouting, “Paper for sale! Paper for sale! Shangzhou appears in the Sunshine Daily! Shangzhou is in the Sunshine Daily!”

Other clever newsboys seized on the selling point, spreading the news everywhere.

Whether passengers waiting for boats or pedestrians on the dock streets, everyone was compelled to spend five cents on a paper.

After reading, they shared the news with those nearby, all astonished.

The newsboy, who hadn’t even reached the freight wharf, had nearly sold out. He managed to keep a copy of the Sunshine Daily, held it high, and ran in, “Brother Let! Brother Let, I think your name is in here! You’re in the paper!”

The whole freight wharf erupted.

Everyone made way for the newsboy, crowding behind him to see what the paper said.

Wolong and Fengchu both tiptoed. The elder sister remained confident, quietly observing her younger sister’s anxious, beautiful face, then sizing up her figure—she’d need to dress up properly.

Let Weidong’s inner voice cursed, “Wasn’t I told not to make a splash?”

What good comes from being in the spotlight nowadays? Every tycoon eventually falls from grace; the truly wealthy and connected never show their faces.

That reporter really is something!

But he had to accept the newspaper proudly presented by the newsboy, handing over five cents, which the newsboy refused, “Thank you, Brother Let, this is what I can do for you. I’ll read it aloud!”

Let Weidong smiled, patted his head, and joined the young policeman in reading the article by Yu Songhai: “Individual business unjustly sealed and detained, affecting local commercial atmosphere, citizens urge Shangzhou leaders to properly implement policy and revoke erroneous decisions.”

It briefly described Wan Shang Trading Company’s opening less than a year ago, its eighty thousand in sales, last winter’s charitable donation of cotton clothes to disaster areas.

After the sudden shutdown in September this year, unjust detention had lasted nearly half a year, with three charges still unclear, vaguely and inexplicably continuing.

If the news article’s tone was unbiased, merely listing facts and urging authorities to clarify the matter’s origins, it was only a few hundred words.

But immediately following was a commentary titled “To Cure the Chronic Ills of ‘Leftism,’ We Must Act According to Law.”

That changed everything!