In the fiery red era of the heavens, refrigerators are refreshed daily.

Chapter 113, Section 112: The Grand Secretary's Plan and the Discovery of Secrets

The afternoon air was filled with the oppressive stillness characteristic of summer, as if it had solidified.

The cicadas' chirping grew louder and louder, sharp and persistent, trying to pierce through the thick, hot air, but only stirring up a deeper silence in the empty corridor.

With a document tucked under his arm, Yang Guangming walked briskly down the long corridor.

His young face was clearly defined, and he wore a faded but equally neat blue khaki suit, with the cuffs rolled up slightly to reveal his strong wrists.

He gently placed a production progress report stamped with a conspicuous red "Urgent" mark on the desk of Zhang Weiqiang, the secretary of Secretary Tian.

"Director Zhang, Factory Director Zhao has approved the equipment maintenance plan for Workshop 3 for the second half of the month. Please pass it on to Secretary Tian."

Yang Guangming's voice was clear and steady, with the bright and cheerful tone unique to young people, yet it also revealed a calm and restrained demeanor befitting a secretary. His voice was neither too loud nor too soft, just enough for the person hunched over to hear clearly.

Zhang Weiqiang was writing furiously at his desk when he heard this and looked up.

He was about thirty-five or thirty-six years old, of medium build, and slightly thin. He wore a light gray "Dica" short-sleeved shirt that was washed to a crisp but ironed without a single wrinkle, with the collar buttoned up tightly.

He wore a pair of old-fashioned black-rimmed glasses on his nose, and behind the lenses, his gaze was gentle yet subtly scrutinizing. The corners of his mouth habitually curved upwards, carrying a perfectly measured and comforting smile.

As the full-time secretary to Secretary Tian, ​​the factory's top leader, and also the deputy director of the factory affairs office, he held an unspoken weight in the building. He was the object of many people's flattery and an important node for the flow of information.

"Thank you for your hard work, Xiao Yang." Zhang Weiqiang put down the Hero fountain pen with its iridium nib, gently scraped the nib against the ink bottle, and took the documents.

He didn't immediately look through it. Instead, he casually adjusted his glasses, his gaze falling on Yang Guangming with a familiar, gentle look, like an elder appraising a junior.
"Running up and down in this sweltering heat. Director Zhao is as efficient as ever, always so decisive and efficient."

His tone was natural and soothing, conveying a sense of closeness, as if the two had been old colleagues for a long time.

This attitude can often be sensed in Yang Guangming's interactions with Zhao Guodong, the deputy factory director, since he took over as Zhao's secretary.

Zhang Weiqiang seemed to have a certain degree of goodwill, or rather, a deliberate interest, in his newly appointed secretary to the deputy factory director.

"Director Zhao demands that today's work be completed today," Yang Guangming replied simply with a gentle and polite smile.

He neither intended nor was he aware that he should comment too much on his superiors; this was a secretary's duty, especially in such a sensitive position.

"Yes, we all admire Director Zhao's work style."

Zhang Weiqiang nodded, placing the thin but weighty approval document on top of the documents waiting to be processed beside him, his movements calm and unhurried.

He glanced up at the blinding, blazing sunlight outside the window, then looked down at the worn "Magic City" brand watch on his wrist. The watch crystal was slightly worn. As if suddenly remembering something, his tone became more casual and conversational:

"Xiaoyang, it's Saturday today. You don't have much to do this afternoon, right? The sun is really strong outside."

"The basic issues have been resolved, and there are no new instructions from Director Zhao for the time being," Yang Guangming replied truthfully, but a sense of unease quietly crept into his heart.

Zhang Weiqiang wouldn't ask these questions for no reason, especially on a Saturday afternoon when people are restless and it's almost time to leave work.

"That's good, very good." Zhang Weiqiang's smile deepened, he leaned forward slightly, lowered his voice, and conveyed a sense of intimacy, as if sharing "insider information."

"Well, tomorrow's a day off. A few of us old colleagues who usually get along quite well got together. We found a small restaurant outside the factory, had a quick lunch, a treat, and caught up with each other. We're all stuck in the factory all the time, our faces are all stiff."

He paused, his gaze carefully observing Yang Guangming's reaction through his glasses, and continued:

"They are all middle-level managers in the factory, such as Wei Hongyu, the head of the Housing Management Department; Liu Jinsheng, the head of the Finance Department; Wen Yongze, the head of the Personnel Department; Lang Tianrui, the head of the Labor and Wages Department; Wang Weidong, the head of the Security Department; Zhou Jiefang, the head of the Purchasing Department; Chen Guoqiang, the director of the Cleaning Workshop; and Li Tiemin, the director of the Finishing Workshop."

We're all around the same age, we see each other a lot at work, and we know each other well. We get together occasionally when we have free time, but not everyone always comes; it depends on individual schedules, and we just want to relax and have fun.

A slight tremor ran through my heart as the sunlight shone brightly.

This list includes the heads of several key departments in the factory—

Wei Hongyu, who controlled housing allocation; Liu Jinsheng, who managed the finances; Wen Yongze, who controlled personnel; Lang Tianrui, who handled wages and labor insurance; Wang Weidong, who was in charge of factory safety; Zhou Jiefang, who was in charge of material procurement; and Chen Guoqiang and Li Tiemin, the heads of two important workshops.

These young and middle-aged employees in their thirties and forties are the backbone of the factory, bridging the gap between the older and younger generations, and they have considerable influence.

As Secretary Tian's trusted secretary, Zhang Weiqiang was clearly one of the core members of this small circle, or even its link.

"The main thing is to relax."

Zhang Weiqiang added another sentence, his tone becoming even more relaxed and casual:

"Let's not talk about work-related troubles."

It's just about getting together for a meal, chatting about everyday things, and if anyone is temporarily short of ration coupons or has a little difficulty in life, everyone can help each other out privately.

When you're out in the world, you rely on friends, right?

His gaze, filled with a sincere invitation, turned to Yang Guangming, his smile warm and inviting.

"Paying the bill was also convenient. After the meal, everyone split the meal tickets and cash equally, so no one took advantage of anyone else. It was a clean and straightforward affair."

Hey Xiaoyang, if you're free tomorrow at noon, let's meet up?

Everyone is very curious about your newly appointed 'chief secretary' and wants to get to know you.

Young people should spend more time with older people; it's always beneficial.

An olive branch has been extended, carrying both a tentative warmth and a clear intention to win them over.

This clearly goes beyond the scope of casual acquaintances between ordinary colleagues; it's more like a ticket to enter an informal yet influential circle.

Yang Guangming maintained a humble smile on his face, but his mind was racing.

A direct refusal would undoubtedly offend Deputy Director Zhang, making one appear ungrateful and potentially offending this potential clique, or even be interpreted as a signal of taking sides.

However, rashly agreeing and getting involved in such a "small clique" among cadres would absolutely not meet Zhao Guodong's requirements of him being "cautious, conscientious, and focused on his work," and could even bring unexpected trouble and suspicion.

He hesitated for a moment, then subtly revealed a hint of unease and caution:

"Thank you for your kind words, Director Zhang. It is my honor to know so many senior leaders in the factory."

He spoke sincerely: "However... as you know, Director Zhao is very strict, and work-related matters can arise at any time. Although tomorrow is a day off, what if the director has an urgent task..."

He paused, and seeing Zhang Weiqiang nod in understanding, he continued:
"So, I need to go back to my office first, report to Director Zhao about what I'm doing, and ask about tomorrow's situation to make sure I don't have to work overtime before I can give you a definite answer."

Is this alright? I'm really sorry.

A knowing glint flashed in Zhang Weiqiang's eyes behind his glasses, but his smile remained gentle, even carrying a hint of approval:

"I understand, I completely understand! We all know Director Zhao's work style. We should ask for clarification first."

Go and ask first, and get back to me once you've confirmed the time and place. I'll let you know then; there's enough time.

He waved his hand, appearing very generous and patient: "It's not urgent. Just tell me before you leave work today. It's just a simple home-cooked meal, don't feel pressured, relax."

"Okay, thank you for your understanding, Deputy Director Zhang. I'll go back first, report to Director Zhao, and then ask for instructions." Yang Guangming's attitude was respectful yet tactful.

"Go ahead, go ahead." Zhang Weiqiang nodded with a smile, picked up his pen again, and looked back at the open documents, as if his heartfelt invitation was just a trivial, casual matter.

Yang Guangming turned and left Zhang Weiqiang's office, gently closing the door behind him.

The corridor was empty and quiet, with only the soft, rhythmic "tap-tap" of his black leather shoes on the terrazzo floor standing out clearly in the silence.

The humble smile on his face slowly faded, and his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

Zhang Weiqiang's invitation may seem casual and homely, but the message it conveys is anything but simple.

He needed to report to Zhao Guodong immediately, and every word and every expression needed to be accurately conveyed.

Back on the third floor, outside Zhao Guodong's deputy factory director's office, Yang Guangming did not knock on the door immediately.

He first went to his small desk, tidied up the several documents laid out on the desk and the enamel teacup with the words "Serve the People" printed in red, and then listened to the inner room to make sure that Zhao Guodong was not on the phone or meeting with guests.

He took a deep breath, as if to exhale the complex atmosphere that lingered in the corridor, then walked to the door of the inner room, raised his hand, and tapped the dark brown solid wood door three times with his knuckles.

"Come in." Zhao Guodong's steady, short voice came from inside the door, carrying the distinctive robustness of a northern accent.

Sunshine Ming pushed open the door and went in.

Zhao Guodong was standing by the window, with his back to the door, looking down at the factory area where machines roared and spindles spun.

He was tall and upright, wearing a faded gray polyester short-sleeved shirt, his back straight as a pine tree, his hands behind his back.

The afternoon sun slanted in, outlining the strong and resolute profile of his face, and the air was filled with the faint smell of tar from the "Daqianmen" cigarettes he often smoked.

"Factory Manager." Yang Guangming stopped about half a step away from the large desk, his posture upright.

Zhao Guodong turned around at the sound, his sharp, hawk-like gaze sweeping over him: "What is it?"

He walked back to his desk and sat down in a rattan chair with a creaking back.

"Factory Director, I just went to Secretary Tian's place to deliver the maintenance permit for Workshop 3, and Deputy Director Zhang chatted with me for a bit."

Yang Guangming spoke at a steady pace, getting straight to the point without any unnecessary embellishment.

He said that tomorrow is a rest day at noon. Several middle-level cadres in the factory, including Wei Hongyu, head of the Housing Management Section, Liu Jinsheng, head of the Finance Section, Wen Yongze, head of the Personnel Section, Lang Tianrui, head of the Labor and Wages Section, Wang Weidong, head of the Security Section, Zhou Jiefang, head of the Procurement Section, as well as Chen Guoqiang, director of the Cleaning Workshop, and Li Tiemin, director of the Finishing Workshop.

They had a small get-together, and Deputy Director Zhang invited me to join them.

He clearly stated each name, making sure Zhao Guodong could hear every key person, and then added:
"As Deputy Director Zhang said, it's just colleagues getting together privately to have a meal, catch up on each other's feelings, and not talk about work."

If you encounter minor difficulties in life, such as being short of a ticket or ration coupon, we can help each other out privately.

The cost was split equally between meal tickets and cash after the meal.

Zhao Guodong listened quietly, his face expressionless, only his right index finger unconsciously tapping lightly on the smooth red lacquered tabletop, making a soft tapping sound, like some kind of silent timer.

His eyes were calm, but Yang Guangming could sense the focused listening and rapid thinking beneath that calmness.

Yang Guangming observed Zhao Guodong's reaction and emphasized, "Before this contact, Deputy Director Zhang Weiqiang had always been quite friendly to me, and his attitude was very good during our meeting." Zhao Guodong's gaze lingered on Yang Guangming's face for a few seconds, his eyes seeming to carry an invisible scale, gauging his loyalty, judgment, and resilience.

A brief silence fell over the office, with only the incessant chirping of cicadas outside stubbornly penetrating the glass, making the room feel even more stagnant.

The brightly colored propaganda posters on the wall, proclaiming "Learn from Daqing in Industry," contrasted sharply with the quiet atmosphere.

Yang Guangming stood quietly, his back straight, his hands hanging naturally at his sides, like a pine tree awaiting instructions.

He knew that Zhao Guodong's silence itself contained a message.

After a moment, Zhao Guodong leaned forward slightly, picked up the box of "Daqianmen" cigarettes with the Tiananmen logo on the table, took one out, and gently tapped the tobacco on the table with steady movements.

He didn't light it immediately, but instead looked up at Yang Guangming with a rare, almost heartfelt, consideration in his eyes, which was quite different from his usually serious face.

“Xiao Yang.” Zhao Guodong spoke, his voice lower than usual, his northern accent clear and articulate, each word like a nail driven into wood, “You’ve been working here for a while now, and I’ve seen your performance. Good, very reliable, honest, and discreet.”

This sudden and straightforward affirmation warmed Yang Guangming's heart, as if injecting him with strength. However, he maintained a respectful listening posture, only his eyes were more focused, and he nodded slightly: "Thank you for your trust, Factory Director."

Zhao Guodong picked up the matchbox with the Tiananmen Square pattern printed on it, struck a match with a "snap," and the orange-red flame flickered, illuminating his angular face for a moment.

He brought the flame close to the cigarette butt, took a deep drag, and slowly exhaled bluish-white smoke.

Smoke swirled and rose in front of him, blurring his hard lines and seemingly obscuring some invisible boundaries, creating an atmosphere of private conversation.

“Since Zhang Weiqiang has told you this, and has also shown you a close relationship.”

Zhao Guodong looked at Yang Guangming through the wisps of smoke, his eyes becoming deep and penetrating, like a searchlight piercing into people's hearts. "There are some things you should know, so you can be aware of the situation and understand the importance of things."

Yang Guangming's heart beat slightly faster. He could clearly sense that what Zhao Guodong was about to say was no ordinary work instruction; it might very well touch upon the secrets of the core power structure of the Red Star State-Owned Cotton Mill.

Zhao Guodong tapped the table twice firmly with the fingers holding the cigarette, lowering his voice even further: "Secretary Tian and I... are comrades-in-arms, we crawled out of the same trench."

Yang Guangming's pupils suddenly contracted, and he almost held his breath for a moment.

The head of the Hongxing State-owned Cotton Mill and the deputy factory director in charge of production were actually sworn brothers from the battlefield!
This information was like a boulder thrown into a calm, deep pool, stirring up a tidal wave in his heart.

He never caught even the slightest hint of this in any public setting or private gossip!
At the factory, one was in charge of the factory committee, while the other focused on production. They handled their work strictly by official procedures, and sometimes even disagreed on specific issues, but at least on the surface, they maintained a delicate balance and distance.

Who could have imagined that beneath this calm, even slightly distant, surface of water, such a profound bond of life and death was surging?
"However," Zhao Guodong continued, his tone calm yet carrying immense weight, "no one in the factory knows about this. We don't intend for anyone else to know either. Normally, we don't have much contact at the factory; we handle things strictly by the book—meetings when necessary, signatures when required—just a normal superior-subordinate, colleague relationship. Understand?"

His sharp gaze was fixed on Yang Guangming, emphasizing the weight of the words "nobody knows" and "ordinary".

"Understood, Factory Manager!"

Yang Guangming immediately responded, his voice steady and powerful, as he tried to suppress the turmoil in his heart and quickly digest this explosive information.

He instantly understood Zhao Guodong's intention—it was an absolute trust, a sign that he was truly included in the inner circle and regarded as a confidant, and at the same time, a heavy responsibility and a silent obligation.

"The factory is so big, with several thousand people, and there are countless things to do."

Zhao Guodong flicked his cigarette ash, which fell into the enamel ashtray with a red five-pointed star. His sharp gaze swept across the tightly closed doors and windows of the office, as if to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

"Some things, if we two are in direct contact too frequently, it will attract attention and arouse speculation, which is not good."

Sometimes at work, we need to communicate and cooperate with each other, or...

He paused for a moment, his eyes giving a meaningful look. "We need to find out the real situation in certain aspects, what the people below are thinking, what they're up to. We need a reliable, inconspicuous channel."

He looked at Yang Guangming, the meaning in his eyes was self-evident:

"It's perfectly normal for secretaries to have regular work-related interactions, such as exchanging information on document circulation, meeting arrangements, leaders' schedules, or passing on things like today."

No one will be able to say anything. You need to find the right balance.

Yang Guangming understood completely. He and Zhang Weiqiang were the hidden and safe bridge between the two leaders.

Zhang Weiqiang's "friendliness" towards him and today's invitation are probably not just about personal goodwill or trying to win him over; they may also contain some tacit approval or even instruction from Secretary Tian's side.

Zhang Weiqiang is proactively establishing and consolidating this "safe passage".

This meal was not only a sign of acceptance by Zhang Weiqiang's circle, but it was also very likely an observation and confirmation of the contact channels for Zhao Guodong's new secretary, at the behest of Secretary Tian!
"so……"

Zhao Guodong finally drew his conclusion, his tone regaining its usual calm and forceful manner, carrying an unquestionable sense of command.

“Zhang Weiqiang invited you. Since he is friendly and it meets the needs of our ‘normal exchanges,’ then you should go.”

Go openly and casually, treat it as getting to know some colleagues and listening to their everyday conversations.

Eat when you're hungry, chat when you're thirsty, just be mindful of boundaries.

He emphasized, "Listen more, talk less, and especially don't get involved in any topics that might involve specific work arrangements, personnel transfers, or criticizing factory leaders."

They can talk, just listen.

Remember who you are, remember who you represent.

"Yes, Factory Director! I understand." Yang Guangming nodded solemnly, feeling enlightened but also tense.

Zhao Guodong's instructions were clear and unambiguous: participation is a necessary political stance and information channel, but maintaining distance, keeping a clear head, and adhering strictly to one's position are absolute bottom lines that must not be crossed.

"Hmm." Zhao Guodong nodded in satisfaction, then stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray with a swift and decisive motion.

“Go ahead. Go tomorrow if you need to. When you come back in the evening, you don’t need to report any family matters to me. Just keep it in mind. If you encounter anything you’re unsure about, write it down.” He pointed to his temple.

"Yes, Factory Manager," Yang Guangming replied again, his voice firm with the conviction of accepting the order. He took a step back, then turned and gently opened the office door before leaving.

He closed the door, leaned against the cold, heavy solid wood panel, and let out a long, silent sigh.

He felt that the back of his shirt was slightly damp with sweat, clinging to his skin.

The corridor was silent, save for the faint distant hum of machinery and his own still-beating heart.

The information I just heard was incredibly important!
Comrades-in-arms, a deliberately concealed intimate relationship, with the secretary as the sole and secretive channel of communication...

Beneath the seemingly calm and orderly surface of the Red Star State-Owned Cotton Mill, indeed, lurked complex undercurrents unknown to others.

He steadied himself, raised his hand and vigorously wiped his face, his expression quickly returning to its usual calm and composure.

Then, he straightened his collar and cuffs, and with his still steady but seemingly more composed steps, he walked towards the stairwell.

He needs to give Zhang Weiqiang a clear answer.

Arriving at Zhang Weiqiang's office door again, Yang Guangming raised his hand and clearly knocked three times on the door with his knuckles.

"Please come in," came Zhang Weiqiang's voice, still gentle.

Yang Guangming pushed open the door and entered. Zhang Weiqiang was looking at a document. When he saw Yang Guangming come in, he put down the document and immediately showed a familiar, gentle smile, his eyes behind his glasses asking a question.

"Xiao Yang, have you gotten the instructions? Is there anything wrong with Factory Director Zhao?"

"Yes, Director Zhang."

Yang Guangming walked to the table with a perfectly relaxed smile on his face, which made him seem more approachable than before.

"After reporting on the matters at hand to Director Zhao, I also asked about tomorrow's plans."

Factory Director Zhao said there were no urgent tasks requiring me to work overtime, and asked me to thank him for his invitation, adding that it would be good for me to learn more from the senior colleagues.

Zhang Weiqiang's eyes behind his glasses flashed with satisfaction, and his smile widened, revealing his great joy:
"That's good! Director Zhao is really considerate of his subordinates, knowing that young people also need to make a living. So, is it settled for tomorrow at noon? Don't stand us up, okay?"

He made a lighthearted joke.

"Yes, it's settled. Thank you, Director Zhang, for giving me this opportunity to get to know all of you leaders and seniors." Yang Guangming's attitude was sincere, with the humility that a young person should have.

"Hey, no boss or senior, we're just colleagues and friends in private. Don't be so polite, relax a bit, okay?"

Zhang Weiqiang waved his hand repeatedly, appearing very easygoing and deliberately trying to close the distance.

"The location is set at the back gate of the factory, turn left and walk about a hundred meters to the 'Xinfeng Restaurant,' the 'Sunny' room on the second floor by the window. It's quiet and convenient for talking."

"Please arrive around 11:30 AM. Don't rush. Just let me know your name when you get there."

"'Xinfeng Restaurant,' second floor, 'Xiangyang' hall, 11:30. Okay, I've got it." Yang Guangming clearly repeated.

"Okay, see you tomorrow then."

Zhang Weiqiang smiled and nodded, picked up the document again, and then, as if remembering something, naturally switched to the topic of work, speaking in a casual tone as if they were having a casual chat.

"By the way, the maintenance permit you just brought over, Secretary Tian has looked at it, has no objections, and has signed it."

"Is there anything else you, Director Zhao, specifically to instruct on regarding the maintenance of the main unit? Especially regarding the main unit maintenance; Secretary Tian briefly mentioned that it should be done carefully."

Yang Guangming felt a slight chill in his heart. Sure enough, Zhang Weiqiang naturally began exchanging information, though it seemed to be casually interspersed with idle chatter.

He maintained his smile, answering flawlessly, conveying the meaning without overstepping any boundaries:

"Director Zhao's comments are all clearly written on the approval document. The director just emphasized again that the maintenance must ensure quality, especially for key equipment. It must not be a mere formality, it must withstand inspection, and it must not affect the production tasks for the second half of the month."

The workshop will strictly follow the plan in terms of specific execution and attention to detail, so please rest assured, Secretary Tian.

"Yes, this is a big deal, we can't be careless. Safety comes first, but production must also be guaranteed." Zhang Weiqiang expressed his understanding, and the conversation ended there, having gotten the information he wanted to convey and receive. "Okay, then you get back to work, see you tomorrow."

"Okay, Director Zhang, see you tomorrow." Yang Guangming was respectful and polite before leaving the office.

Closing the door made the stuffiness in the hallway seem even worse.

(End of this chapter)