Chapter Fourteen: Opportunity Arises (Part Two)

While Zhang Maolin was lost in a series of wandering thoughts, Wang Weixin’s speech was already nearing its end.

In truth, Zhang had not taken in any of the specific content from start to finish. He only vaguely remembered the sudden eruption of applause that filled his ears.

Having finished his speech, Wang slowly and meticulously straightened his notes, stacking the two dozen sheets of A4 paper neatly under his teacup. Rather than leaving the podium immediately as he usually did, he stared with affected solemnity at the faces below, turned upward like sunflowers, and the hands clapping diligently.

After thirty seconds of continuous applause, Wang’s gaze swept across the room, his expression growing increasingly serious, even rigid.

Zhang Maolin saw this clearly, and it immediately triggered his alertness; his soul, which had been wandering elsewhere, snapped back into place.

Wang picked up his teacup, took a gulp, and then leaned his thick lips toward the microphone.

"I hope you will all reflect on the few points I emphasized regarding our peak-season operations. Especially you, branch managers and department heads of the city office—you need to do the math. The foundation of our Songyang Xing Shang Bank is paper-thin, so thin that it would tear at the slightest touch! Everyone must realize that our total volume of non-performing loans and their percentage have ranked first in the entire province for three consecutive years. That is not something to be proud of.

"To put it bluntly, one might describe our current situation like this: look ahead, and we are a massive army; look behind, and we stand alone at the top in failure! This is an absolute disgrace, comrades!"

Wang lit a cigarette. He didn't smoke it, but held it with his right hand in a dignified posture, letting the thin wisp of smoke rise from his fingertips.

Wang continued, "There is a saying: 'Time waits for no one.' I find it most fitting to describe the current state of our Songyang Xing Shang Bank. I can share a piece of reliable information with you—or, to be more precise, a piece of big, bad news for our Songyang city branch. Starting in January, the provincial branch will implement a performance-based salary distribution model across the entire jurisdiction. What is a performance model? As the name implies, everyone's salary will be calculated based on the operating results and efficiency of their respective branches. Every one of you here will have your salary determined entirely by how well your branch meets its targets. In short, the days of coasting are over. If you act like Nanguo the flute player, trying to fool the Emperor by faking your skills, you will eventually be kicked out of court by Emperor Song Huizong!"

Wang’s final sentence caused a minor stir in the hall.

Zhang Maolin let out a snort of laughter but immediately restrained himself. He gritted his teeth, terrified that the muscles in his face might twitch again and be spotted by Wang on the podium. The standoff didn't work, and as he recalled Wang’s mention of "Song Huizong," his nerves frayed once more. He reached out and pinched the inner side of his thigh hard; the sharp, piercing pain instantly neutralized his urge to laugh.

*Old Wang,* Zhang thought, *you really are something! That’s quite the international joke you’ve made! With hundreds of people listening, you’ve transported Song Huizong all the way to the State of Qi. Even if you, President Wang, have immense power—enough to use a rocket to travel through time and perform a 'Great Shift of the Universe'—you should have at least included a special footnote in your speech materials!*

Wang took two more sips of water and cleared his throat deliberately.

"Comrades! The scale of today's meeting is quite large, and it is rare that our grassroots office directors are here as well. We only have meetings of this size once or twice a year. Therefore, we should take the spirit of this meeting back with us with initiative and self-awareness; you must communicate it to the mind of every single grassroots employee. I have emphasized enough regarding the main work tasks; please read the meeting materials carefully once you return.

"Comrades, now I want to emphasize one issue in particular—or rather, to clarify a rumor! Note that I said 'rumor'!"

Wang’s previously splayed right hand immediately balled into a solid fist, which he slammed against the desk.

The hall turned unnervingly silent. Every pair of eyes focused on Wang like a spotlight.

Wang scanned the room, lit another cigarette, and said in a booming voice, "These past few days, I have heard some peculiar information! They say that I, Wang Weixin, am about to be transferred out of Songyang. Heh, it seems the evidence is conclusive and the facts are clear. How strange, then, that I, the person involved, know absolutely nothing about it? I know that those spreading such news may not necessarily have malicious intent—perhaps they are just talking for the sake of it. Here, I solemnly tell you: I have not received any such notification from the higher-ups. In other words, I am still working in Songyang, continuing to struggle and toil alongside you all, eating from the same pot..."

Wang’s speech ended abruptly. He immediately crushed the cigarette in the ashtray before it had even touched his lips.

Before the audience could applaud, Wang stood up and walked away quickly.

Zhang Maolin did not rush to leave. He stood up slowly, lost in thought. Gazing at the now-empty podium, his eyes landed on the chair Wang had just vacated. The seat cushion, flattened by Wang’s heavy backside, had not yet fully regained its shape.

Zhang began to ponder whether Wang’s final remarks had been directed specifically at him. If that were the case, his future work would be completely compromised. Yet, thinking it over, since Wang had arrived in Songyang a few years ago, he had treated him quite well.

Zhang suddenly felt a wave of regret and guilt. He felt ashamed of his thoughts and actions over the past few days. A feeling of having been deceived for no reason welled up from the bottom of his heart.

*"Liu Dong, you bastard! You’re nothing but a loud windbag—making a fool out of me!"*

Zhang cursed hatefully in his heart. He realized immediately that his so-called "promotion" was nothing more than a baseless rumor and a lie.

...

"Hello, Secretary Zhang! President Wang would like you to come to his office—now, if possible, hehehe."

Director Kan from the office pushed the door open just a crack, her fair face peeking through as she smiled at Zhang Maolin.

"Oh? Wouldn't a phone call have sufficed for such a small matter? Why trouble yourself to come all the way up here!" Zhang said politely.

"Hehe, it's no trouble at all. Climbing the stairs is good exercise for me. Hehe, Secretary Zhang, if you have nothing else, I'll head back down now." Director Kan took her leave.