Chapter 43: Who Told You to Have the Surname Rang?

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Commentary articles often cut straight to the bone:

“In the course of reform and opening up, invigorating the market, and unblocking distribution channels, there have been occasional incidents in various places where individual entrepreneurs are harassed and suppressed. The case of the merchants in Shu Province, Shangzhou City, whose businesses were sealed off, stands out in particular…”

This was practically a verdict already!

For the young policeman, it was almost like his first time wearing a uniform and successfully assisting with a case—his face turned instantly pale.

He certainly understood that the trade case Wei Dong had mentioned was absolutely not as simple as just identifying each involved party through investigation.

It was already entangled with disputes over policy direction.

Beside him, the newsboy read the article aloud with even greater volume:

“In recent years, the spring breeze of reform and opening up has swept across the land. Urban and rural individual entrepreneurs, through their own labor, have made tremendous contributions to enlivening markets and making life more convenient for the masses.”

This was a clear affirmation of the existence of individual business owners.

“In the process of developing individual entrepreneurship, there are indeed various issues, but these can be resolved through improving economic management systems and legal measures. They are internal matters, not ones to be escalated to the level of severe suppression…”

The attitude of protecting individual entrepreneurs and private economy was already unmistakably clear.

“The root cause lies in ‘leftist’ thinking. During the process of economic reform, some people’s minds remain trapped in outdated frameworks, always viewing the rapid rise of individual entrepreneurs with suspicion and endless worries.”

If this wasn’t explicit enough, it was only a step away from reciting names and ID numbers.

“They believe they are defending Party policy, but in fact, they are violating it. If these people don’t cure the stubborn ‘leftist’ affliction deep in their minds, it will be detrimental to the Party, the country, and themselves!”

In an era without the internet, this was virtually an imperial edict.

Even with news televised, newspapers remained the most reliable medium for transmitting policy information.

The freight dock was silent as the newsboy read; most of the dock laborers could barely recognize the words in the paper, their literacy on par with those in basic adult education classes.

But to truly grasp the meaning behind these words, one needed at least upper elementary or junior high school education.

Fortunately, the widespread practice of posting big-character posters in previous years had instilled some political sensitivity in the masses.

At least they could tell who was being criticized, who was being praised.

Someone couldn’t help but say, “When I was young, our textbooks taught us to summarize the central idea and main content—now I finally understand what that meant.”

The others told him to hush, not to miss the ‘broadcast.’

Because this was a triple strike!

The reporter publishes a news story, the commentator distills the official narrative, and finally the public sends in a letter: “Comrade Xiao Rang from Shangzhou, in his letter, enthusiastically described the thriving agricultural-industrial cooperation in the region, successfully helping seven townships transport five hundred thousand pounds of oranges—fruits that previously would rot in the fields due to lack of transportation, now turned into premium raw material for Shangzhou’s canning factory. He also assisted four townships in delivering four hundred and fifty tons of sand and stone for urban construction, strongly supporting the fervent development of city and countryside.”

“So now, the greatest contradiction is between the people’s growing enthusiasm for building their hometowns and the fierce clash with the stubbornly conservative thinking of some leaders…”

Damn it, if the letter writer’s surname were Wang, Zhang, or Li, nobody would care who wrote it.

Who else has the surname Rang nowadays?

Only now did Wei Dong realize—damn, newspapers can stage manage too!

They even managed a triple play.

The reporter tells the story, the commentator extracts the official stance, and finally, a letter from the masses wraps it up, showing that even a backward place like Shangzhou is developing well.

It was both a slap and a pat on the back for those involved in Shangzhou, making their position clear.

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These relevant leaders weren’t exactly bad; they were just so doctrinaire they’d rather see people starve than let go of their ideology.

It remained to be seen if they could be awakened.

The freight dock was in an uproar—Comrade Xiao Rang had made it into the paper.

Although most people didn’t quite understand what the tone of Sunshine Daily signaled, it was definitely something ordinary folk would rarely, if ever, experience in their lifetime.

Especially those truck drivers who had been hauling oranges and sand for seven or eight days, unaware of the significance behind it—was this actually a confrontation with the leadership?

My God!

You’d think people would be afraid, but in the '80s, most weren’t really intimidated by city leaders.

In previous years, they’d even dared to storm offices and drag away officials from the factional struggles, so the city leaders left standing were all firm non-faction types.

So aside from feeling proud, everyone thought that now, nobody would dare stop Xiao Rang from transporting river sand, nobody would dare block their chance to earn money, right?

Looking around, those tax officials in uniform had already slipped away quietly.

Who would dare arrest someone after they’d been featured in the paper? If anything happened, they’d be the ones to take the blame.

They hurried off.

The young policeman, however, showed more responsibility: “I was instructed by the tax bureau to assist, but it seems this matter is bigger than I thought. Take care, be meticulous in your work, and make sure you pay your taxes properly.”

Within the limits of his authority, he had done his best to offer advice, patting Wei Dong’s shoulder as a gesture of goodwill before leaving.

Wei Dong could only think—my tax notice hasn’t even come out yet, how have you all disappeared already?

The crowd erupted in cheers!

With the paper proclaiming Shangzhou’s bustling urban-rural development, it had to be a good thing!

The days of hardship, carrying loads on their backs, were about to end—they could look forward to better times.

The newsboy proudly raised his chin and went off to carry sand.

Several women came over, sincerely thanking Xiao Rang for giving them hope before the New Year.

The porters and drivers applauded enthusiastically together.

Wei Dong, who had been feeling cold inside and cursing the damn reporter and that troublesome young woman, now found himself thrust into the spotlight.

He had wanted to make money quietly, not sacrifice himself to explore the path of reform.

Now, with Shangzhou city paying attention and putting his name on record, could anything good come of it?

He had already provoked Mrs. Shi’s mother, and now even more people were involved.

Looking at the scene before him, he had no choice but to force a smile.

Yet the winter sunlight poured over the desolate riverbank, as if everything was charged with vitality.

The hardships of life vanished among the countless smiling faces.

Even Wei Dong’s anxious calculations melted away in the warmth of these smiles.

What was there to fear? Anyway, after the New Year, he would leave Shangzhou, waiting for You Qili to be released from prison—he didn’t necessarily need to stay here.

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But he still turned around and berated the young woman, furious about the reports on orange harvesting and sand transport: “Are you still leaking information to the reporter?”

Dong Xueying had a tenacious spirit reminiscent of a pyramid scheme leader: “The big reporter said he wants to report your achievements to his superiors!”

Wei Dong was almost in tears from anger: “What does a reporter matter? I don’t need to report anything to him—who does he think he is?”

But at this moment, reporters were incredibly powerful, the uncrowned kings.

The entire city of Shangzhou was shaken!

Everyone was talking about it; rumors had it that in the afternoon, the provincial authorities would call to inquire, and around the New Year, an investigation team would be sent to look into the situation in depth.

Dong Xueqing hurried to mediate like a proper sister-in-law: “My sister is only doing this for your own good, so you can become a great hero!”

Wei Dong cursed: “That’s nonsense! I never wanted to be any kind of hero. Taking care of myself and my family is the greatest heroism—if you can’t feed yourself, any talk of ideology is rubbish!”

Dong Xueying, holding her child, stood her ground: “When I visited Old You in the detention center, he kept saying we should get national media coverage, get a big reporter to investigate, strive for a provincial or national investigation team. Now that’s happened, but most importantly, these tangible achievements are yours—they should be your benefit!”

Wei Dong’s hand trembled as he pointed at her: “What benefit? Only when you keep quiet can you make real money. Now everyone’s watching—trouble will find you even if nothing’s wrong. I’m telling you, you’re a troublemaker! A disaster!”

From the perspective of a young woman, Dong Xueying was now more radiant than her somewhat malnourished sister—plump enough to seem juicy at a glance.

She certainly fit the label of ‘calamity.’

No wonder the old hands at the dock kept glancing her way.

But since her sister returned, she dressed as conservatively and drably as possible, now with a stubborn look on her face.

Fengchu quickly intervened: “Brother’s right, we shouldn’t compete to stand out. This is good—making a little money, supporting the family, and helping so many others. That’s self-sufficiency and benevolence together.”

The elder sister’s eyes flashed, turning unreasonable: “How can you side with him now?! Get out! Both of you, leave! I don’t want to see you! Take Xiaodie with you, I need some peace, I’m fed up!”

She even pushed them out the door.

Wei Dong, already furious: “This is my room!”

It was clearly Wolong and Fengchu bringing dinner over.

But with the child in his arms, he instinctively softened his tone: “Alright, alright, have you eaten? If Xiaodie won’t eat, Grandpa will. Come on, let's go for a walk…”

Dong Xueying, trying not to laugh, insisted: “I need to wash the dishes, don’t bother me, hurry up and leave!”

Dong Xueqing quickly followed, wagging her tail like a puppy: “Sister has suffered a lot, but now she just wants you to be better.”

Wei Dong understood, though not from a romantic perspective: “She’s not well educated, you need to advise her more. There are so many examples of good intentions backfiring. In this world, the arrogant ones don’t last two episodes; only those who make money quietly, who develop discreetly, will ultimately succeed.”

The vocational school student from the provincial capital giggled: “What do you mean by ‘last two episodes’? You’re so funny. None of the teachers from the capital have your idea of ‘discreet development.’”

She remembered her duty as a sister-in-law: “Sister always let me have her share of food and learning since childhood, gave everything for me. So I’m genuinely happy to see her thinking only of you now.”

A well-timed assist, prompting Wei Dong to glance at the flat-chested country girl, thinking privately he’d reserve judgment on the nutrition issue.

Such a gap between sisters was certainly rare.

Dong Xueying hid in the corner of the window, watching the seemingly well-matched young couple carrying the child away, her smile slowly becoming a little askew.

It was as if only when she was alone could she reveal her feelings, sitting quietly by the wall, lost in thought.