003 The Young Urban Management Officer

The young man noticed Fang Qingye not far away and walked over with a smile to greet him.

"Yezi, off work?"

"Yeah, Dahai, still busy?" Fang Qingye replied with a smile.

"I can't compare to you. You guys at the bank, wearing clean uniforms and surrounded by beauties, unlike us, stuck with a pile of messy business and sometimes getting scolded to our faces," the young man named Dahai sighed.

"Nonsense, you brought this on yourself! Your old man tried to get you into a decent unit, but you refused and insisted on becoming a city management officer!" Fang Qingye retorted bluntly.

"Heh heh... I like it!"

This young man, Song Dahai, was Fang Qingye’s childhood friend—the two had grown up together as inseparable brothers. He also held another title: the second son of Song Qingdong, known as the richest man in Nanxin.

Come to think of it, Song Dahai was a real oddball. His grades in school were poor, and before he even graduated from high school, his father used his connections to send him into the military. Instead of picking a cushy post, he insisted on joining a field unit in Xinjiang. After serving for a few years and returning to the county, the government offered to arrange a job for him according to the policy at the time. With his father’s influence, he could have chosen the Personnel Bureau, the Urban Construction Bureau, or the Water Conservancy Bureau, but he turned them all down and joined the City Management Brigade instead.

In his own words: "I’ve grown used to a wild life. I can’t sit still in an office; I just like roaming around outside all day."

His father was furious, feeling it was a disgrace, and simply told him not to go to work. Naturally, he wasn't allowed into his father’s company either, for fear that he would wreck it. "Just stay at home, can't I afford to support you?" his father had said.

To his surprise, Dahai refused, arguing, "I’m young and healthy, how can I be a parasite? I want to contribute to society."

Upon hearing this, his father was so angry he nearly had a heart attack and simply threw his hands up in despair, letting him do whatever he pleased. And so, Song Dahai began driving his newly purchased BMW X5 to work at the City Management Brigade! He worked quite happily alongside his colleagues, even though his 2,000-yuan monthly salary wasn't enough to cover his gas money.

Seeing that Song Dahai was working, Fang Qingye didn't want to disturb him and was about to leave, but was stopped.

"Hey, want to grab hot pot after work? There’s a new place on Jinhua Road called Chongqing Courtyard. The taste is pretty good. Shall we go try it? My treat!" Song Dahai said.

"Sure, I don't have anything going on tonight anyway," Fang Qingye agreed readily.

"Why don't you bring a couple of pretty girls from your bank? Can Chen Meimei come? Ask her," Song Dahai added with a smirk.

"Why make me ask... Dahai, you haven't taken a liking to her, have you?" Fang Qingye asked in return.

"Nothing like that," Song Dahai quickly denied. "Didn't I say you have a lot of pretty girls at your bank? Chen Meimei is especially pretty. Unlike our brigade, which is mostly a bunch of old men, and the few women we do have look like dinosaurs."

"I'm afraid Chen Meimei doesn't have time; she’s been seconded to help the investigative team sent from the city," Fang Qingye said truthfully.

"The city investigative team? Is that for the theft case at Tenglong Industrial?" Song Dahai asked in a lowered voice.

This time, it was Fang Qingye’s turn to be surprised. "This news has already reached your ears?"

"Heh... Nanxin is such a small place, doesn't any little stir spread across the whole city?" Song Dahai said with an expression that suggested Fang was making a mountain out of a molehill. "My dad mentioned it last night. After hearing the rumor, he immediately called his company’s CFO to check if their accounts were in order. Twenty million is not a small amount, after all."

"That's true..." Fang Qingye nodded.

"How do you think this happened? Could there be an inside job at your bank?" Song Dahai said with a detective-like expression.

"Hey, don't talk nonsense. Can't you see they're still investigating?" Fang Qingye retorted.

"Fine, I'll stop. I need to get back to work... You go ahead and find a table; I’ll come over as soon as I’m off. Don't forget."

Seeing Song Dahai about to leave, Fang Qingye quickly asked, "Should we call Liu Dong?"

"He's been busy as a top lately, writing things day and night. I doubt he has time."

Fang Qingye was surprised. "He’s an official at the Committee on Aging; what kind of material could he possibly have to write? Is he reading it to those old folks?"

"Don't you know? He was just seconded to the County Party Committee’s Publicity Department last week, busy writing news and propaganda drafts."

So that was it!

Song Dahai answered and strode away. He called out to the old man selling strawberries: "Old man, no need to haggle. You said you couldn't sell them elsewhere, right? Fine, I'll take them all! Take the money and go home! Get out of this spot!" As he spoke, he pulled out his wallet.

*Damn...* He really was a wealthy heir.

Fang Qingye sighed and rode off on his scooter.

Liu Dong was his other close friend. Unlike Song Dahai, whom he had known since elementary school, Liu Dong lived in the countryside and only transferred to the county school in middle school, where he sat next to Song Dahai, and the three of them became close.

He had attended Jinling Normal University, originally intending to become a teacher, but ended up passing the civil service exam for the county’s Civil Affairs Bureau, only to be assigned to the Committee on Aging.

It was a quiet, dull unit where he had nothing to do all day. Liu Dong joked that he would spend his whole life dealing with old men and women.

Liu Dong was a literary youth with a romantic streak; he loved writing and had a flair for it. He would submit pieces to the *Jinghai Daily* in his spare time, and since several of his articles were published, it likely caught the attention of the leadership in the Publicity Department, who drafted him to write news and propaganda. Of course, staying at the Publicity Department held much more promise than the Committee on Aging.

When Fang Qingye got home, his parents weren't back yet. His father, Fang Jianwen, was likely at a social engagement.

Although Chengguan Middle School was only a junior high, it was a long-standing, prestigious institution in Nanxin County with high teaching quality, making it the top choice for parents of primary school graduates. Although there were official regulations against "key classes," schools everywhere, in an effort to boost their enrollment rates, concentrated their best teachers into a few specific classes—effectively creating key classes in all but name. Chengguan Middle School had two such classes per grade, which naturally made parents scramble to get their children in.

How to get into a key class? Principal Fang Jianwen held the decisive power.

Because of this, Fang Jianwen had many social obligations. Especially during the crucial "primary-to-secondary" transition season, his phone would ring non-stop, and people seeking favors were endless. Fang Qingye remembered that every August, his father would take his mother on a "vacation" to hide for a while. There was no helping it—the demand was too high, and with only a little over a hundred spots in those two classes, he couldn't grant every request.

Fang Qingye was already used to his father not being home for dinner. His mother, Zhang Meili, was a primary school teacher and had fewer social obligations, but teachers these days had to attend various training sessions, meetings, and party-building activities, so she usually didn't get home until after six.

Fang Qingye was used to this too.

Back in his bedroom, he took off his bank uniform, changed into a jacket and jeans, and put on sneakers. He left a note on the living room coffee table telling his mother he wouldn't be home for dinner, then headed downstairs and rode his scooter straight to Jinhua Road.

He found the "Chongqing Courtyard" hot pot restaurant. The decor was quite upscale, and as it had just opened and was offering a 12% discount, it was fairly crowded.

They didn't need a private room, so Fang Qingye found an empty table in the main hall, ordered a split-pot, picked out a few dishes, and steeped a pot of tea to wait for Song Dahai.

A few minutes past six, through the window, Fang Qingye saw a white BMW speed up and park in front of the restaurant. Song Dahai stepped out, still wearing his city management uniform, carrying a plastic bag in his hand.

Seeing him enter, Fang Qingye waved. Song Dahai walked over, plopped into the seat across from him, and set the plastic bag on the table.

Inside, to his surprise, were strawberries.