Chapter 40: If You Can't Defeat Them, Disgust Them

Duan Chengliang noticed that after he had spoken twice, Shazhu not only refused to let go but tightened his grip instead. Observing that the man’s previously mocking expression had turned into a livid, baring-toothed glare, it was clear he was about to lose his temper.

Duan Chengliang’s face hardened as he said in a low voice, "Shazhu, this is the last time I’ll say it. I was walking just fine; why are you pulling at me? Let go immediately, or this is going to get ugly."

Shazhu laughed out of sheer annoyance and applied more pressure. "Heh, Duan Chengliang, you’ve got some nerve today. Have I been too polite to you because I’m used to your mild temper?"

Without releasing his left hand, Shazhu reached out with his right to grab Duan Chengliang by the collar.

This time, Duan Chengliang was prepared. Without hesitation, he pulled his hands from his pockets, his left hand snapping up to block Shazhu’s incoming right. Simultaneously, he gave his right arm a sharp jerk, effortlessly breaking free from Shazhu’s grip.

They were in the factory area, not the place for a brawl. If they caused a scene, they could be slapped with a charge of disrupting production. At best, it would mean a public reprimand over the loudspeakers; at worst, a pay deduction and endless paperwork. Duan Chengliang had no time to let such trivial matters derail his plans for a better life. His time and energy were far too valuable, and any other interaction would be more interesting than this pointless entanglement with Shazhu.

Having blocked Shazhu and shaken him off, Duan Chengliang ignored him, tucked his hands back into his pockets, turned, and walked away briskly.

Shazhu was truly stunned. He looked down at his left hand, then at his right. What just happened? That collision felt like a steel rod hitting his hand—hard and painful—forcing him to recoil instinctively. And when Duan Chengliang had jerked his arm away, his previously iron-tight grip had been broken as if he had no reaction time at all.

Shazhu had practiced wrestling in his youth. Although he hadn’t stuck with it, his master had once praised his natural talent, noting his sturdy frame and raw strength. He had trained on and off for five or six years. While he wasn't a professional, he wasn't afraid to take on two or three average men at once. In the factory, he had yet to meet a manual laborer who could match his strength in a one-on-one fight. Wrestling, after all, emphasized the grip above all else—the first thing you practiced was the power and technique of the hands. Plus, as a chef who spent his days tossing heavy iron pans, he was never short of strength in his arms. He had always been extremely confident in the power and precision of his grip.

Yet, just now, Duan Chengliang had easily neutralized both his hands.

"Zhuzi, stop standing there," Yi Zhonghai said. "If Duan won't pedal, you do it. Get on, and let’s get your Second Uncle home. It’s cold today; even with the quilt, he’s suffering. We’ll deal with Duan Chengliang later. Don't cause a scene here at the factory. We’ll settle this back at the courtyard. Once we close the gates, we can talk logic all we want."

Shazhu replied indignantly, "Uncle Yi, you saw it. Duan Chengliang is completely out of line. I asked him nicely to pedal the tricycle for a bit, and the kid has no sense of charity. He just watched me pulling Second Uncle. He doesn't care about helping others, and he even dared to lay a hand on me. I’m furious."

Yi Zhonghai waved his hand, frowning. "Don’t be a fool. Get going. Know the priority of things. Duan Chengliang was never taught any manners, so are you going to be just like him? I said we’ll handle him back at the courtyard."

Seeing that Yi Zhonghai was getting annoyed, Shazhu gave a sheepish smile. Still, he spat forcefully toward the back of the retreating Duan Chengliang. "Bah, you blind little brat. We’ll see. I won’t bother with you for now. Hmph."

Shazhu climbed back onto the tricycle, gritted his teeth, and pedaled to catch up to Duan Chengliang. As he passed him, he spat on the ground near Duan’s feet, then, with his head held high and his rear stuck out, he pedaled the tricycle away at high speed.

Immediately after, as Yi Zhonghai caught up and passed Duan Chengliang, he shot him a fierce glare—a look filled with coldness and murderous intent.

Witnessing Yi Zhonghai’s expression, Duan Chengliang thought to himself, "This old man is exactly as I analyzed after watching the show; he’s far from simple, and definitely no good person. He’s a two-faced, ruthless schemer. Was a sesame-seed-sized issue really worth a look like that? He’s clearly petty and likely the type to hold a grudge forever."

Duan Chengliang watched their backs, lost in thought. He saw Shazhu pull up to the factory gate, point and gesture at the security guard for a while, and then leave. When Yi Zhonghai reached the gate, the guard asked him something, and Yi nodded repeatedly before leaving as well.

Duan Chengliang didn't think much of it at first. But to his surprise, as he reached the gate to leave, two security guards blocked his path.

"Are you Duan Chengliang? Show us your work permit."

The security department was the factory’s enforcement arm. Checking work permits was standard procedure, so he wasn't alarmed. Duan Chengliang took out his permit and handed it over. The tall guard took it, opened it, and glanced from the photo to Duan Chengliang’s face. Then, he closed the permit and shoved it straight into his own pocket.

"Huh?" Duan thought. What was this? He had seen permits checked before; usually, they were returned with a smile once verified. What was this about?

It dawned on him then, recalling how Shazhu had been talking to the guard earlier.

So that was it. No need to wonder—the petty, vengeful brat had clearly made trouble for him.

Sure enough, the tall guard’s expression shifted as soon as he pocketed the permit. "Come with us to the guardroom for an inspection."

"An inspection for what?"

"Someone reported that you might be carrying something you shouldn't be. We have to check."

In these times, if the factory security department suspected you, they wouldn't hesitate to act. Even if they were wrong, at most you’d get a perfunctory apology—or more likely, nothing at all. They would just assume you were lucky to have slipped through this time.

Duan Chengliang knew there was no point in being stubborn. If he refused, he’d only offend them, and they might accidentally "get a bit rough" with him in the process. He also didn't want to become the subject of office gossip at the factory gate.

People would only watch such an inspection as entertainment; no one was naive enough to play the hero and demand justice. Everyone was exhausted from a day of hard labor, and most would find the spectacle a welcome bit of amusement.

For such ambiguous, murky situations, you were often left with nowhere to seek justice if you were wronged. Shazhu’s move was nothing more than a spiteful, disgusting attempt to make his life miserable.