"Let's play a little game, shall we? With a bit of a stake to make it interesting?"

After leaving the gate, turning at the intersection, and walking for a few more minutes, Zhao Wenjun stopped in front of a restaurant.

“This is the place. The storefront doesn’t look great, but the food tastes good, especially the local specialties from Nanxin. Sometimes I just come here to order a dish and have a couple of drinks.” With that, Zhao Wenjun walked into the restaurant.

A woman in her thirties, who looked like the owner, immediately greeted him. She seemed to recognize Zhao Wenjun and smiled warmly, “Director Zhao, here for a meal? The usual three dishes?”

“Yeah, plus two more dishes. I have a colleague with me; let’s open a private room.”

“Alright…”

The owner led them into a private room and then busied herself elsewhere.

The dishes arrived quickly: stir-fried clams, pickled vegetables, jellyfish head with edamame, braised Langshan chicken, and local-style stewed bamboo clams. The last two hearty dishes appeared to be added on the spot. Naturally, they didn’t forget the locally favored flower dew liquor.

As they ate and chatted casually, after a few drinks, Zhao Wenjun refilled Fang Qingye’s glass and suddenly said, “Little Fang, you’re really impressive. You saw through the mystery behind the Tenglong Industrial funds theft case at a glance.”

“What do you mean, Director Zhao?” Fang Qingye put down his chopsticks, looking surprised. “I don’t know anything about the whole matter.”

“Let’s be straightforward. When Xia He reported to Secretary Liu that night, you gave an example... and that example was exactly the same as the Tenglong case. Do you still call that just an example?” Zhao Wenjun sneered.

Fang Qingye just smiled and picked up his chopsticks to take a bite.

“Little Fang, why do you want to help Xia He? I don’t think it’s just because you’re schoolmates,” Zhao Wenjun asked again.

Fang Qingye remained silent.

Zhao Wenjun didn’t press further. He raised his glass and downed it in one gulp, then suddenly opened the door of the private room and called out toward the bar, “Madam, do you have a Xinhua dictionary?”

The owner looked puzzled by the sudden request but then smiled and replied, “I think there’s one. I’ll get it for you.”

A few minutes later, she returned with an old-looking dictionary.

“I couldn’t find one for children, so I grabbed the one I used back in school. It’s a bit worn out. Director Zhao, will this do?”

“Perfect. I probably couldn’t handle a new one anyway.” Zhao Wenjun smiled, took the dictionary, and handed it to Fang Qingye.

Fang Qingye was baffled, unsure what this was about.

“Let’s play a little game with a bit of a wager, how about it?”

“What game?” Fang Qingye was cautious but kept his expression neutral.

“You open this dictionary at any page, tell me the page number and which character from the top it is. I’ll tell you exactly what that character means.”

Ah?

Fang Qingye suddenly recalled a scene from the movie “Chinese Partners,” where Cheng Dongqing recited an entire English dictionary on a plane, turning the tide in a negotiation. He had been amazed back then.

Could Zhao Wenjun really do the same?

“What’s the wager?” Fang Qingye asked cautiously.

“If I win, this meal’s on you.”

“And if you lose?”

“Then I’ll tell Xia He a secret nobody knows.” Zhao Wenjun smiled mysteriously.

“Alright.” Fang Qingye opened the dictionary randomly, glanced at the page, and said, “Page 120, first character at the top left.”

“‘Calyx,’ the green ring of small leaves beneath a flower’s petals,” Zhao Wenjun answered instantly.

Correct!

Fang Qingye flipped a few pages further. “Page 147, on the right, third character from the bottom.”

Zhao Wenjun thought for a moment, then replied, “It should be ‘sweet,’ as in ‘bittersweet’.”

“Impressive! I lose!” Fang Qingye put down the dictionary, giving a thumbs-up. “Director Zhao, you’ve mastered the art of dictionary recitation!”

“Heh, just hard work. I’m a child of the sixties, grew up in the countryside. Back then, my family was poor; I had a few years of schooling. After reform and opening up, I went to the city to work for a while, helping someone tend a boiler. No entertainment, couldn’t afford books, but I happened to find a dictionary and started reading it whenever I could,” Zhao Wenjun took a sip of wine and slowly recounted his past.

“Burning the boiler all day; when there was electricity at night in the boiler room, I’d read that thing day and night... I was just a farmer’s kid with no backing or background. If I wanted to make something of myself, how could I not study?”

“Later, the bank recruited temporary workers. I thought boiler work had no future, so I took the exam and surprisingly got in, though at first I just swept the floors.”

“I saw the tellers in the bank wearing uniforms, working in a nice environment with good pay. I envied them so much... so I studied hard—accounting, abacus skills—and eventually became a teller. Then I furthered my education and step by step climbed to this position.”

Fang Qingye had never heard such a story before. Now hearing it from Zhao Wenjun, he was genuinely impressed and said, “Director Zhao, your story is truly inspiring. I admire you.”

Zhao Wenjun smiled and returned to the topic.

“I know I’m a rural kid with simple demands. Being a branch manager is already a proud achievement for me. The old manager is about to retire, and this position should be mine. It’s just one step away. But then suddenly Xia He was transferred here, acting like she’s taking over. I don’t show it on the surface, but inside I’m very resentful.”

“Is it just because she’s a graduate student, young and pretty, with connections, while I only finished elementary school with no background or education, left to be manipulated? Little Fang, you can ask around at the bank or even the city office—how good is my work? Am I worse than Xia He?”

Zhao Wenjun’s voice grew louder, disturbing the owner outside, who peeked in and then retreated.

Fang Qingye slowly said, “You could compete fairly with Director Xia.”

“Fair competition? Little Fang, you’re too naive,” Zhao Wenjun sneered. “You know, when Xia He first came, she was ranked below me in the leadership hierarchy. But soon after, the old manager suddenly applied to go home to recuperate because of poor health. The higher-ups immediately approved it and let Xia He temporarily take charge! How is that fair competition?!”

Fang Qingye said nothing, falling silent.

“At that moment, I knew I had to use extraordinary means to achieve my goal,” Zhao Wenjun’s eyes flashed with a hint of ruthlessness.

“So you wanted to exploit the Tenglong Industrial funds theft, stir up trouble behind the scenes to make the situation worse?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I thought. The bigger the stir, the more passive Xia He would be, and the better my chances,” Zhao Wenjun smiled.

“In fact, I discovered the suspicious elements in the Tenglong case three months ago and knew it was an inside job. I planned to use this as a setup.”

“But the timing was too early to expose it. If the truth came out too soon, it would be meaningless. So I pretended not to know and waited for this moment to reveal it. I even got Mr. Qian from Tenglong involved to make things messier, increasing the difficulty of the investigation.”

A trace of pride appeared on Zhao Wenjun’s face.

“Mr. Qian listens to you?” Fang Qingye interjected.

“Mr. Qian is my friend—we often drink together. Besides, if he didn’t listen, how would he get loans?” Zhao Wenjun replied coolly.

Fang Qingye silently took a sip of his drink.

“But just as you were about to succeed, you interfered and caused me to fail. Tell me, what exactly did Xia He offer you?”