Chapter 45: My Belongings—To Be Used as a Bridal Dress for Others?

A few days ago, there was a reindeer, and today, wild boar meat again. Brother Tiejun, you really know how to surprise us,” praised Chef Xiao Cai, who was helping carry the meat into the kitchen. “Brother, I’m truly impressed with you now, completely in awe.”

“Brother Cai, you flatter me. You’re the one who’s truly earned the credit. If it weren’t for the vegetables you gave me half a month ago, I wouldn’t have come this far,” Zhang Tiejun said as he glanced around to make sure no one else was nearby. Then, from his pocket, he pulled out a piece of wild boar meat wrapped in newspaper.

“One piece of rib belly, one piece pure fat. Take these home,” Zhang Tiejun said succinctly, tossing the meat into Chef Cai’s backpack.

Chef Cai smiled knowingly. “Brother Tiejun, you’re doing better and better. Don’t worry, if you ever need anything regarding your family, just come find me.”

With that, Chef Cai kicked the backpack under the stove.

Just as they were talking, a villager pushed open the kitchen door.

“Old Cai, what’s going on? Didn’t Secretary Qiao say the commune leaders are coming today? You should be preparing some signature dishes by now. Why hasn’t anything been done?”

Zhang Tiejun recognized the villager. He was Qiao Kangzhan’s distant nephew and currently served as the squad’s propaganda officer. Although his official title was propaganda officer, the villagers called him nothing more than a lackey of the Qiao family.

Nearly all the cadres in the Qiao family’s production squad were related to Qiao Sihai. In recent years, Qiao Kangzhan had become the undeniable “king” of the production squad.

“All the dishes are ready. Didn’t they say the commune leaders would come first for talks and inspection? Isn’t it too early to start cooking now?” Chef Cai asked cautiously.

“The leaders need to leave soon, and the talks can happen over dinner. Hurry up and start cooking. Where’s the leftover wine from last time?”

“It’s tucked away in the kitchen crevice. Wait here. I’ll get it.”

“I’ll get it myself. You start cooking.” The villager glanced at Zhang Tiejun. “Zhang Tiejun, what are you doing here?”

Chef Cai pointed to the wild boar meat inside. “Brother Tiejun brought us some meat.”

At this, the villager’s interest peaked. He bypassed the two and went to the hallway, lifting the curtain covering the meat barrel. Seeing the large, pale chunks of meat inside, his eyes widened in amazement. After a moment, he smacked his lips and said, “This meat’s good. Old Cai, make sure to add plenty of salt when you stew it, or it’ll be bland.”

After the villager hummed a tune and left, Chef Cai spat twice in the direction of his retreating back.

“What nonsense!” Chef Cai cursed. “The villagers are living so hard these days, and these people just know how to feast and indulge. Four people demand six dishes—aren’t they afraid of bursting?”

“What’s going on?” Zhang Tiejun asked, puzzled.

Lately, Zhang Tiejun had been busy hunting in the mountains and hadn’t paid much attention to the production squad’s affairs.

“Don’t get me started.” Chef Cai sighed and grabbed a large cutting board from the wall. Swiftly chopping vegetables, he muttered, “It’s almost the end of the year. The production squad’s leadership is about to change. Every year around this time, the commune sends people to come around, ostensibly for inspection and assessment. But really? They’re just grasshoppers hopping over barren fields, kicking up autumn winds.”

“That’s not right. Aren’t all evaluations supposed to be open and transparent now?” Zhang Tiejun asked.

“Nonsense, just pointless showmanship,” Chef Cai said with a curse before calming down. “The intention from above is good: if the people work, those who can work more should do more. But down here, it’s a different story. With so many problems facing the nation and villagers struggling to make ends meet, do we really need to put on a façade?”

Seeing Zhang Tiejun silent, Chef Cai stopped and asked, “Brother Tiejun, what’s wrong? Why so quiet?”

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about some things. Go on,” Zhang Tiejun replied. “What does this have to do with tonight’s dinner?”

“Still because of Qiao Sihai,” Chef Cai paused. “Qiao Kangzhan is getting older, and his health’s declining year by year. Before stepping down, he wants to push Qiao Dafa up.”

“That’s impossible. Such matters aren’t decided by one person alone.”

“Why impossible?” Chef Cai spoke bluntly. “His eldest son is the deputy head of the commune and also the chairman of the labor union, in charge of personnel.”

“Even more reason it can’t happen. Direct relatives holding supervisory or related positions shouldn’t be involved in such matters.”

Zhang Tiejun’s systematic and professional response stunned Chef Cai. He hadn’t expected a rural teenager to speak such official jargon.

“I just joined the village committee, so I’ve learned a bit,” Zhang Tiejun quickly defended himself.

“I thought so,” Chef Cai shrugged it off and turned, saying, “That’s why it’s easier to talk at the government office gate. The eldest son’s an official, so the other officials have to give him some face. Don’t you think?”

Seeing Zhang Tiejun fall silent, Chef Cai thought he was upset and quickly comforted him. “Everyone’s fate is decided by heaven. Brother Tiejun, you’re doing well now. Many people in the shop have noticed you’ve changed a lot lately.”

“Thanks, Brother Cai. You get busy—I’m going to the squad office now. Just a formality,” Zhang Tiejun said.

“All right. Once the lard is ready, I’ll call you.”

Leaving the kitchen of the production squad, Zhang Tiejun headed straight to the Qiao family’s squad office.

Before entering, he heard lively laughter and chatter from inside.

Peeking through the curtains, he saw several men gathered, joking around.

He recognized Qiao Kangzhan, Qiao Dafa, and, of course, himself, but the three men seated lower down were unfamiliar. They were likely the visiting leaders for the inspection.

One man, about thirty years old and resembling Qiao Kangzhan, was probably Qiao Kangzhan’s proud eldest son, Qiao Shuai.

“Come in.”

At the sound of Zhang Tiejun knocking, noises inside quieted.

“Tiejun, come in, come in,” Qiao Kangzhan greeted him cheerfully. “Haven’t seen you for days. Let me introduce you: Qiao Shuai, Chu Guoping, Mu Sanjiang—these are the leaders from our commune.”

Zhang Tiejun nodded. “Secretary Qiao, I hunted a wild boar up the mountain and handed it over to Chef Cai.”

“Is that so!” Qiao Kangzhan nodded repeatedly. “I knew you were the right man for this.”