Chapter 75: Please Have Some Tea

Just as he returned to the office on the second floor, Mr. Qian slammed the table, his face dark with anger.

“That Zhao Zejun is nothing short of a scoundrel! Director Feng, what are you still hesitating for? The police car is right at the door, just arrest him and take him away!”

The impact was terrible. The promising situation they had carefully cultivated was completely ruined by today’s commotion. Not only would those determined to resist eviction be even less likely to move, even those who had planned to relocate would, upon witnessing the chaos, surely waver and continue to wait and see.

The entire morning had passed, and not a single household came to sign the agreement or hand over their keys.

“People like him are the very definition of troublemakers! Director Feng, if it’s inconvenient for you, I’ll bring someone in myself. I refuse to believe it—so what if it’s a few dilapidated houses? I’ll tear them down no matter what!” Mr. Qian’s expression twisted with menace; in the business of demolition, the death of a few people meant nothing.

Compared to the investment Baoye Company was making in Gaogang Village, human lives were insignificant.

“Troublemaker?” Director Feng glanced at Mr. Qian, adjusted his glasses, and said in a low voice, “Just a month ago, the Municipal Youth League awarded him as an Outstanding Member. To call him a troublemaker now doesn’t seem appropriate, does it?”

“You bureaucrats are always worried about appearances and substance—when is anything ever that simple! So tell me, what should we do?!” Mr. Qian demanded angrily.

“Let me think.”

Though Director Feng didn’t often visit the demolition office, the project was a major one sponsored by the city. How could he possibly not care at all? He avoided being directly involved because, as the official director, many tasks during demolition were not suitable for him to handle personally.

For example, just now, when a crowd of elderly men and women gathered, Mr. Qian could lose his temper and have them dragged out, but Director Feng could not do the same.

He had come prepared; before demolition began, he had thoroughly investigated Gaogang Village, anticipating the emergence of holdouts and even paying special attention to Zhao Zejun.

The guiding principle, whether at district or city level, was clear and unified: to ensure smooth demolition, no mercy should be shown to any holdouts, and if necessary, punish one as a warning to others.

Zhao Zejun was now a holdout, but his situation was highly unusual and couldn’t be handled like any other.

Firstly, his reputation was excellent. Recently, he had appeared in the news and newspapers for disaster relief, with the city specifically commending him, and the Youth League awarding him certificates and bonuses. Of course, this didn’t mean he was untouchable—those who grant honor can just as easily drag someone into the dirt—but doing so would undoubtedly bring a host of complications.

This was the largest shantytown renovation in the province, one of the mayor’s signature initiatives. All eyes were fixed on Gaogang Village’s redevelopment. If, at the very outset, a model of civic virtue established by the city was turned into a pariah, what message would that send?

Was it the city’s previous efforts at fault, or was it the demolition office?

Moreover, how would he himself explain this to district and city authorities?

Director Feng believed that, for the sake of successful demolition, the higher-ups would ultimately support him. As long as they nodded in approval, even a fraction of his power would be more than Zhao Zejun, an ordinary citizen, could withstand. Seeing the chaos downstairs today, he had indeed considered having the police car take Zhao Zejun away, but in the end, he refrained.

If he took tough measures against this “Outstanding Member,” the superiors might not say anything aloud, but they would inevitably question his competence: Was there really no better way than targeting a city-established role model?

Such thoughts are subtle; any dissatisfaction from a superior, even if unspoken, could have countless unspoken ramifications for his future career.

Furthermore, even if he did employ various tactics, the operation would be far too complicated.

Strangely enough, it was as if Zhao Zejun had foreseen today, gathering all the solitary elderly residents of Gaogang Village under his roof, greatly diminishing the effectiveness of usual hardline demolition methods.

These elderly people themselves were always a major challenge in any demolition project.

According to standard procedure, they should be the first to be persuaded to relocate—they had no family, no background, little education, and were generally easy to work with. If they could be convinced to move, the rest of the process would go much more smoothly.

But now, all these people had banded together, forming a united front, supporting one another, with Zhao Zejun backing them up. The difficulty of the task had increased sharply.

Moreover, while these elderly had no personal power or influence, their status drew considerable public attention. For instance, the old veteran who fought back today was one of the city’s few surviving Second World War soldiers, assigned after demobilization to the security department of a state-owned enterprise, living in the company’s dormitory in Gaogang Village. After the enterprise went bankrupt, he stayed on.

Many among them had similar backgrounds. If force were used and a mass incident erupted, the social repercussions would be disastrous.

Now, the issues of Zhao Zejun and the elderly had tangled together, creating a chemical reaction greater than the sum of its parts.

Handled well, they could resolve two major obstacles at once and encourage a large number of relocations; handled poorly, demolition could proceed, but at the cost of many hidden risks.

“Let me talk to him myself,” Director Feng said.

“Returning to the original site is absolutely out of the question. Our investment and construction agreement with Yijiang City makes that point crystal clear!” Mr. Qian insisted.

“I’m well aware. If he insists on returning to the original site, then we’ll do what we must. I’ll support you then,” Director Feng replied, adjusting his glasses.

“Good!”

...

Two days later, as expected, water and electricity were restored. Outside the two-story house, a cluster of demolition residents gathered, cheerful and chatting.

“Mr. Zhao is truly impressive! The demolition office didn’t dare throw a single tantrum at him!”

“Looks like the demolition office is just bluffing—damn, they gave me quite a scare!”

“I’m not moving. Let’s stand our ground! Unless they give me fifty thousand more, I won’t budge!”

“Your expectations are way too high. That old house of yours wouldn’t fetch thirty thousand if you sold it. They’re offering you a new apartment, and you still want an extra fifty thousand?”

“If I get twenty thousand more, I’ll be satisfied…”

“If not, we’ll make a scene! Did you see? Even a high school student dared to stir things up and got results. What are we afraid of?”

Almost at the same time, less than two kilometers from Gaogang Village, in a modest private room of a teahouse, Zhao Zejun and Director Feng sat across from each other, a tea set arranged between them. Director Feng rinsed and poured the tea with elegant fluidity.

Steam curled upward, the scent of tea lingered in the air. Director Feng set down the kettle and gestured to Zhao Zejun with a slight wave of his hand. “Please, have some tea.”