Chapter 2: Descending to the Village

Wei Lai’s car came to a smooth stop in the courtyard of the Xiaohui Village Party and Mass Service Center.

Actually, Xiaohui Village itself was in pretty good shape. While it wasn’t very big, with only a little over 600 registered residents, and about 100 people living there year-round, it boasted a beautiful environment. The main road was paved with smooth asphalt, lined on one side by neatly arranged villager houses, each with its own little garden. The other side was an orchard with two small pavilions, where villagers would gather to escape the summer heat.

Even though it was November, and the flowers and grass had all withered, the trees were somewhat bare, the village was still neat and clean, glowing with a bright light.

Xiaohui Village was also renowned as a cultural village, with almost every household having a college graduate. There were over thirty masters degree holders and even a dozen Ph.D.s in the village.

The reason they needed an appointed branch secretary was that the previous branch secretary had appropriated some of the collective assets for his own use, leading to a complaint from the villagers. He was currently under investigation, and the related matters were still being looked into. The younger party members in the village all worked outside, while none of the older party members were suitable for the role.

Wei Lai walked into the secretary’s office. Yang Mao, the village director, was already there.

Yang Mao was the youngest in the village, at 46 years old, twenty years older than Wei Lai. His wife, Wang Wanrong, worked at the city’s welfare home and was due to retire in three years. They had only one son, Yang Linghe, two years younger than Wei Lai, who was currently studying for his master’s degree at Beijing Northern Mining University. A few years ago, Yang Mao drove for a leader in the city’s Public Security Bureau. This year, the leader retired, so Yang Mao returned to the village and ran for village director, winning the election.

“Secretary, you’ve arrived,” Yang Mao greeted her with a smile.

Wei Lai had met Yang Mao a few times before and had a good impression of him. He seemed like an honest man, and his words suggested that he genuinely wanted to do some good for the villagers.

“Yes, I just came to learn more about the situation. Have you been here for a while, Director?” Wei Lai asked as she took a seat.

“I’ve been sitting here since 8 am. I’m worried, I want to do something to give the village a makeover. I couldn’t sleep last night, and after having a couple of bites of breakfast, I came straight here,” Yang Mao said.

“Take your time. These things don’t happen overnight,” Wei Lai comforted him.

Afterwards, Wei Lai asked the village director in detail about the village’s history, local customs, complaints and appeals, the “three assets” situation, and so on. She asked questions while reviewing documents and diligently taking notes on important points.

When it came to the debt situation, the village director was unclear about some of the debts, so he called Yang Xin, the village accountant.

Yang Xin was 56 years old and had been the accountant for ten years. He lived in the village year-round and knew the village quite well. He was short and had dark skin, and was also a very down-to-earth person.

Yang Xin sat down and explained in detail, “This 20,000 yuan is the remaining payment for installing heating for villagers last year; this 15,000 yuan is for the well digging in the south of the village the year before last; this 30,000 yuan is for the villagers’ compensation for lost wages over the past three years…”

Yang Xin explained each item one by one. After he finished, Wei Lai only said, “So, our village’s total debt is 410,000 yuan now?”

“Yes,” Yang Xin replied.

“Do we have any receivables?” Wei Lai pressed further.

“There are two coal yards that pay a total of 140,000 yuan each year to the villagers and the village committee. After the villagers are paid, the village committee has a surplus of over 30,000 yuan. The town also transfers 50,000 yuan each year to the village, which includes the salaries of the village party committee, the village committee, and the village accountant.” Yang Xin replied.

“That means our annual income barely covers the village’s daily expenses, and the debt cannot be resolved in the short term,” Wei Lai concluded.

“That’s right.” Yang Xin answered.

Yang Mao on the side sighed, lit a cigarette, and offered one to Yang Xin. They both turned their bodies sideways while smoking, showing a bit of consideration.

Actually, Wei Lai wasn’t bothered by the smell of smoke.

“Ever since I was elected village director, I’ve been thinking about how to improve our village’s collective economy and change the villagers’ lives,” Yang Mao said.

“It’s difficult. The mess left behind by Yang Zhigang (the former party branch secretary and village director who was under investigation) is a tough one to clean up,” Yang Xin sighed and said.

The three of them chatted for a while, and Wei Lai had recorded quite a lot of information. It was almost noon, so she said goodbye, preparing to go back to the town government for lunch and to prepare her speech for the meeting.

It took Wei Lai about ten minutes to drive back to the town government. As she got out of her car, she ran into Li Ke, who was walking towards her.

“Where were you going?” Li Ke asked, holding a stack of documents.

“I just went to Xiaohui to gather some information,” Wei Lai replied, locking her car door.

“I went to Yulin Village this morning. We have the discussion meeting the day after tomorrow, so I need to be well-prepared,” Li Ke said.

“I’ll start writing this afternoon too,” Wei Lai replied.

Having joined the same unit, there was always a special bond between them. Li Ke was three years older than Wei Lai and was already married with a two-year-old daughter, who was very cute. Li Ke not only looked mature but was also very reliable in her work. Since they started working together, they had helped each other and gotten along very well.

As they chatted, they walked into the cafeteria together. It was a self-service cafeteria, with relatively simple dishes every day: noodles, steamed buns, flower rolls, rice, a few cold dishes, a few hot dishes, and a soup.

Wei Lai had once complained to her best friend, Xiao Xiao, about the cafeteria food, saying, “If I could resist eating at night and eat less at home, I could easily lose ten pounds a month.”

Indeed, Wei Lai had lost a few pounds since she started working at the unit two years ago, successfully dropping below one hundred pounds.

Wei Lai and Li Ke got their food and sat down at a round table, where several colleagues were already having lunch. They were two of the younger colleagues in the unit: Xue Hailing, the director of the Women’s Federation, who was 35 years old, and Hu Xue, the head of the management station, who was 37 years old. They had both worked in Pingyi Town for over ten years.

The four of them chatted over their meal.

The food was not the subject of much discussion anymore. After all, everyone had gotten used to complaining about it. Today’s topic was the new District Party Secretary, Cheng Yue, who had just arrived.

“He’s so young, with such a high position of power. I wonder if he’s married?” Xue Hailing gossiped.

“What kind of woman could be worthy of him?” Hu Xue also pondered aloud.

“You women are so nosy,” Li Ke commented, taking a sip of soup. “But, I heard Secretary Cheng graduated from District One High School. Wei Lai, you also graduated from District One High School, right? Do you know him?”

Wei Lai, who had been diligently eating and hadn’t participated in the conversation, was suddenly addressed. She looked up and saw all three of them staring at her.

“No… I don’t know him. He graduated before me,” Wei Lai quickly replied.

“Well, you’re still alumni. Maybe you can connect with him later,” Hu Xue said.

Connect? No way. I’d rather just be a silent bystander. Wei Lai thought to herself as she ate her rice.

For the rest of the afternoon, Wei Lai was preparing her speech for the discussion meeting. When it was time to clock out, she realized she hadn’t written much. She had been daydreaming or playing on her phone most of the time and hadn’t actually focused on writing. What should she write about? Her plans for the village? How she would make a big splash? Those ideas felt immature. After all, she had no resources or experience. Her ideas were just empty talk, and she didn’t want the leaders to think she was being unrealistic. Should she write about her achievements? No way. She had zero accomplishments since graduating, and her work was always just following the rules, nothing particularly outstanding.

So, by the end of the workday, she had only managed to write a brief self-introduction, less than a hundred words.