Chapter Eighty-Six: Give Me a Chance!

The entire carriage of men was in a restless stir because of Zhou Meiniang.

Not a few quarrels broke out among men who had brought women along, sparked by her presence. As for those traveling alone, desire simmered just beneath the surface.

They sized up Shen Guodong from head to toe. An ordinary-looking man, not particularly well-dressed—why did such a beauty belong to him? It was utterly baffling.

The journey from Feng City to Shen City was just over a hundred kilometers, yet the train ride felt long. Shen Guodong was fast asleep when Zhou Meiniang, sitting beside him, nudged him awake with a peculiar look on her face. Three men had gathered at their side.

The one in the middle was a middle-aged man clad in a fashionable gray shirt, slacks, and a pair of fine leather shoes—the quintessential ensemble for men in the eighties. In those days, styles were limited; men mostly wore shirts, typically in shades of gray or blue.

“Brother, let’s get acquainted!” the man in the center said. He looked to be around forty and had the air of a successful man, proud and unyielding—instantly unlikable. The two men flanking him seemed like lackeys.

He had approached under the pretense of befriending Shen Guodong, but his true aim was clearly Zhou Meiniang; his gaze betrayed him.

The rest of the onlookers weren’t fools. Someone had beaten them to the punch. Many had wanted to try their luck but lacked the nerve, and now regretted their hesitation. Eyes turned toward the scene—after all, for people of Xia Country, spectating was almost a national instinct. On the street, even a quarrel between husband and wife would draw a crowd in no time.

Shen Guodong wore a clueless expression, with no interest in making acquaintances—everyone could see through the man’s intentions. He wasn’t stupid; to miss such an obvious ploy would be a joke.

In the brief silence, the middle-aged man spoke up. “Brother, let me introduce myself. I’m Chen Longhui, director of the Shen City Canning Factory.”

He announced his identity with great pride. For most ordinary people, such a position was an unattainable peak.

At that time, canning factories were among the most sought-after workplaces. Many people couldn’t afford fresh fruit, so they bought canned goods—easier to store and transport. Only those living in the production regions could enjoy fresh fruit; elsewhere, it was prohibitively expensive, a luxury for the wealthy. Sky-high transport costs and the difficulty of preservation made fresh fruit a rare treat.

But the director of a canning factory—that was a position everyone envied.

“This guy’s got quite a status…”

“He’s probably after that woman. Looks like we don’t stand a chance.”

“Do you think she’ll go with him? I bet she will. She’s no fool—what kind of man you follow decides your own status and worth.”

“If I were her, I’d dump the guy right now and go with Director Chen—riches and glory would be at my fingertips.”

The crowd murmured among themselves. For them, it was a matter of pragmatism.

A wise bird chooses the right tree to nest in. Love paled next to the importance of bread.

“So what?” Shen Guodong saw no reason to be polite. This man had his eye on his woman and wanted to steal her away—why should he show him any courtesy? He was just a factory director; even if he were a millionaire, Shen Guodong wouldn’t care. What good was his wealth to him? Frankly, he wasn’t buying it.

Chen Longhui was accustomed to deference and friendly treatment wherever he went. Shen Guodong’s indifference unsettled him. Though his status meant little to the bystanders, their eagerness to curry favor was obvious.

Even if they stood to gain nothing, at a word from Chen Longhui, countless would leap to his aid. Yet Shen Guodong showed not the slightest regard, his dissatisfaction plain on his face. What right did this man have to show such an attitude in front of him?

With a thin smile, Chen Longhui pressed on. “No need to be so tense, brother. I just wanted to get to know you and offer you a chance to make it big. As you know, I’m the director of the Shen City Canning Factory. With a little help from me, you could enjoy wealth beyond imagination.”

He spoke with unshakable confidence. “So, what do you do for a living?”

“I work at the machine tool factory,” Shen Guodong replied, his annoyance growing as he raised his eyes.

“Machine tool factory! That’s much tougher work than my canning factory. Even at best, you’re earning maybe seventy yuan a month. I’m giving you an opportunity—how much you make, I can’t say for sure, but I promise your income will rise and your work will get easier.”

Again, he stressed his title. “I’m the factory director—you can trust my word without a shred of doubt.”

He went on and on about being the director, as if it were some mighty achievement. Shen Guodong was thoroughly irritated. To him, it made no difference whether this man was a director or the chairman of a state-owned enterprise—it had nothing to do with him. Why should he show any respect?

He lifted his head, visibly displeased. “Director Chen, I’m just an ordinary citizen with modest ambitions. Could you stop bothering me? We’ve got two hours until we reach Shen City, and I’d like to get some rest. Please don’t disturb me.”

At these words, the people nearby looked as if they’d gone mad. They could hardly believe their eyes—was this man crazy? The director of the Shen City Canning Factory had offered him an opportunity, and he refused to seize it.

What on earth was he thinking?