Official title: Refused to stay at the university, started his career in a rural town.

Time flies, and the calendar has been torn to December 1996.

Yang Fan stood in front of the office window, the glass of which was covered with a thin layer of frost flowers.

Since the end of April, when Zhao Ruilong's Audi with the Beijing license plate drove over the dirt road in Qingping Township again, stacks of real money were poured into the mountain to build the "Ruilong Ecological Tea Garden" signboard. The development of Qingping Township seems to have been put on fast forward.

The young master Zhao, who had smashed the ashtray and uttered harsh words after being contradicted by me, now always wears that warm smile that leaves no room for criticism.

Yang Fan still remembers that on the day the contract was signed, Zhao Ruilong was dressed in a sharp suit. He held Yang Fan's hand with just the right amount of strength, and his eyes were clear and bright, without a trace of gloom.

"Mayor Yang, I, Zhao Ruilong, keep my word. If I say we'll cooperate for mutual benefit, then we will. It's a promise, no doubt about it."

That expression was as sincere as that of an old friend. A smiling tiger? No, Yang Fan reassessed him in his mind.

You can say that the child of such a high-ranking leader is bad, you can say he's a spoiled brat, but you absolutely cannot say he's stupid.

From a young age, they are instilled with the highest level of survival wisdom: face is nothing, only interests matter. They know when to draw their swords and when to move on decisively.

This ability to be flexible and adaptable, this openness in using emotions as bargaining chips and interests as trump cards, is far more terrifying and useful than the vindictive spoiled brat.

The moment Zhao Ruilong's name was established, the effect was immediate.

The supplementary materials for the cooperative, which had been stuck in the approval process of the Municipal Agricultural Commission for more than half a month, were approved in just three days; the matching funds that the county had been dragging its feet on were quietly allocated; and even when it came to the matter of road repairs at the Municipal Transportation Bureau, the section chief who always spoke in an official tone about "studying it" put on a smiling face and readily approved the application.

As long as there are no violations or breaches of regulations, the transfer of all projects involving Qingping Township proceeds smoothly, as if lubricated.

This is the magic of power; it doesn't follow reason, it only cares about results, and this process fascinates Yang Fan.

The air outside was bitterly cold, but his heart was burning with warmth. Lost in thought, he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Thump, thump, thump."

"Please come in."

The door opened, and a gust of cold wind rushed in. Zhao Dayong was wrapped in a military overcoat, his nose red from the cold, clutching a thick report in his hand, but his face couldn't hide his excitement.

"Mayor, the preliminary statistical report for the whole year of 1996 that you requested is ready!" Zhao Dayong's voice trembled with excitement as he spread the report on Yang Fan's desk, his rough fingers pointing at the numbers on the paper.

"Look, just from Hengtong and our cooperative's deep processing of mountain delicacies, export earnings have quadrupled compared to last year! The township's GDP is projected to exceed 60 million!"

Sixty million!

Compared to last year's figure of just over 20 million, this represents a threefold increase. Yang Fan's finger traced down the data column and stopped at the "Per Capita Net Income" column.

"The average income per capita is expected to reach 4,800 yuan." Zhao Dayong's Adam's apple bobbed as he announced this figure.

Yang Fan tapped the number "4800" twice with his finger and looked up at him.

"What about Xiaoguan Tea? Let's take a look at it separately."

A complex expression flashed across Zhao Dayong's face, a mixture of pride and regret. He pulled out another thin report from underneath.

"Xiaoguan Tea, the 'Yunwu' series, accounts for 3.7 percent of the total economic output of the township throughout the year."

"Only 3.7?" Yang Fan didn't even raise an eyebrow. "Go on."

Zhao Dayong licked his chapped lips, his voice lowered but more forceful: "Yes, it doesn't look like much. But mayor, we sell a box of tea for 98 yuan, and it only contains 40 grams. These three or seven points are almost entirely due to the limited supply from a few designated channels in Handong Province and Jingzhou."

"The experts from Hengtong said that the quality of our century-old tea tree mother plant is there, and it would be easy to increase the production volume. However, for the long term, we will still follow the plan and carry out 'thirst marketing' for now."

He took a breath and stared intently at Yang Fan: "The big bosses and gift-givers in Jingzhou and our Ning City have already begun to recognize the 'Qingping Yunwu' brand."

"Just imagine, if we increase production in two years and expand the planting of branches from the old tea trees to all the tea gardens, covering Handong, and even extending north to Shanghai and Guangzhou... by then, this little can of tea will probably account for half of Qingping's economy!"

Yang Fan finally smiled.

He closed the report, patted Zhao Dayong on the shoulder: "Well done. Keep a close eye on the tea garden! Control the yield, and control the quality even more. When it's time to 'nourish' the tea trees, don't be stingy with money."

Zhao Dayong nodded emphatically. "Don't worry, they're all cash cows; who would dare mistreat them!"

Looking out the window, Yang Fan was already planning to expand the planting of old trees next year.

He opened the notebook on the table, wrote "Three years to increase sales volume, five years to expand nationwide" on the page for "Xiaoguan Tea", then got up, picked up the data sheets that made his heart race, and walked towards Wu Xiang's office.

He had to make his old partner happy too.

As he approached the secretary's office, the door was ajar. He raised his hand to knock, but Wu Xiang's humming of a tune drifted through the crack in the door, the melody winding and off-key.

Pushing open the door, Wu Xiang was facing away from the entrance, looking at the banner on the wall that read "Advanced Grassroots Party Organization," trying to suppress the corners of his mouth that were desperately trying to turn up. Unfortunately, at this moment, the corners of his mouth were harder to suppress than the recoil of an AK.

Wu Xiang turned around and saw Yang Fan. His smile vanished, a smile that seemed to seep from his very bones, carrying a sense of relief and triumphant joy.

Yang Fan's heart skipped a beat, and a thought flashed through his mind like lightning.

He raised his hand, clasped his hands in a fist salute, and smiled broadly: "Congratulations, Secretary Wu, on your imminent promotion!"

Wu Xiang was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter, pointing at Yang Fan with his finger: "You little rascal, you're really clever! How come you have such a sharp eye!"

He pulled Yang Fan down to sit, poured him a glass of water himself, and said without any pretense, "The news just came from home and hasn't been officially announced yet. You're the first one to know."

Wu Xiang took a big gulp of hot tea, his face flushed: "After the New Year, once all the year's summaries are finished, I'll go to Linshan District. Standing Committee member, Propaganda Minister."

Deputy Director! And also the Standing Committee Propaganda Minister, this step at least saved Wu Xiang three years of hard work as a deputy county head. Wu Xiang has overcome the hurdle that countless grassroots cadres can never get over in their entire lives.

At 29, he is a member of the district party committee, with a promising future ahead of him.

"Your wish has come true, your wish has come true, Secretary Wu!" Yang Fan was genuinely happy for him. "Now that you're going to the district, we'll need your help in our work in Qingping."

Wu Xiang waved his hand with a smile: "Alright, Yang Fan, we're like brothers. When it comes to practical skills, I can't catch up with you even if I try."

He stopped smiling, his eyes filled with seriousness and a hint of distant reminiscence. "This year has passed in the blink of an eye, but the days we spent working late into the night every day in March and April, polishing the project proposal, still feel like they were just yesterday!"

He stood up, walked to Yang Fan's side, patted him on the shoulder, and said meaningfully, "Yang Fan, your path is longer than mine, and it will definitely go further. When you ever reach the top city or provincial level, just don't forget to save a good spot for your old partner!"

Wu Xiang paused, his eyes filled with a deeper meaning, and looked at Yang Fan, adding word by word, "These days, any work that requires me to go to the city or county will be handed over to you."

Yang Fan's eyes suddenly narrowed.

He instantly understood Wu Xiang's intention.

If he was the only one who knew that Wu Xiang was leaving, then he could seize all the opportunities to accumulate political capital and demonstrate his abilities to his superiors in advance.

This is not just a handover; it's using the last bit of time and the greatest effort to give Yang Fan a push forward.

The purpose was to fill the soon-to-be-vacant position of Party Secretary.

Yang Fan didn't say any more words of thanks, but simply nodded emphatically. Some feelings are more useful when kept in the heart than when spoken aloud.