20: Chapter 20 Meng Dehai: Are you even speaking human language?

Meng Dehai's office.

Zhao Yang locked the door behind him and casually pulled the blinds. The room darkened, leaving only a single desk lamp shining.

Meng Dehai's brow furrowed deeper and deeper: "Xiao Zhao, what do you need to report?"

Zhao Yang pulled a recording pen from his pocket and placed it on the desk.

Meng Dehai's pupils contracted: "This is..."

"In the statements of Feng Lvzi and Xu Jiang, it was mentioned that Huang Cuicui recorded something before she died," Zhao Yang said. "During my investigation, I heard she had asked a friend to go to the Bureau for Letters and Calls, so I went through the petition mailbox. This pen was inside, covered in a layer of dust."

"You've had it this whole time?" Meng Dehai blurted out. "Why didn't you bring it out earlier?"

"If I had brought it out then, the situation would have been uncontrollable."

Zhao Yang pressed the play button.

A conversation began to play from the recording pen.

...

Male voice: "What's your name?"

Female voice: "My name is Huang Cuicui."

Male voice: "That's a nice name. How old are you this year?"

Female voice: "Twenty-two."

Male voice: "You don't look that old. You're really young, and your skin is so good."

...

Zhao Yang pressed pause.

"I often watch the provincial news, and I've attended meetings in the province," he said, looking at Meng Dehai. "I recognize this voice."

Meng Dehai froze in his chair, motionless.

The office was so quiet that the ticking of the clock on the wall could be heard.

After a long while, he finally let out a long breath: "So that's why you set that risky plan?"

"I couldn't think of a better way."

Meng Dehai opened his mouth, pointing at Zhao Yang. A thousand words were stuck in his throat, and finally, he only squeezed out four words: "Audacious beyond all bounds."

Zhao Yang gave a cheeky grin: "As you said, young people need to have some drive."

Meng Dehai was silent for a moment, his gaze falling on the recording pen: "This thing, do you plan to give it to me?"

"Yes." Zhao Yang nodded. "Uncle Meng, you and Director An are both good officials, but you don't have anyone above you, so it's hard to see the higher scenery. This thing can help you."

Meng Dehai's expression turned solemn: "Xiao Zhao, we're comrades-in-arms who have charged together. Speak plainly to me."

"Fine." Zhao Yang lowered his voice: "This matter has already exceeded your range of control. I suggest you go directly to the province and give it to Secretary Song. As far as I know, Secretary Song was transferred here at the same level, and his work hasn't fully unfolded yet. If..."

"No need to say more." Meng Dehai raised his hand to interrupt him.

It wasn't that he didn't understand.

At his age, without a leader's appreciation, Zhao Lidong's rank would be his final destination.

Was he resigned to that?

No!

To hold the world's power when sober, and lie in a beauty's lap when drunk. The latter half had been barely achieved—his wife really had been a beauty when she was young.

But the first half...

Meng Dehai stared at the recording pen on the desk, his breathing gradually becoming heavy.

Finally, he grabbed the recording pen: "We leave for the province immediately. You come with me."

"Okay."

Zhao Yang smiled slightly.

Meng Dehai was only forty-five this year. Having wiped out Xu Jiang's gang this time, his promotion to the bureau level was a sure thing. At forty-five, a bureau-level official had an unlimited future. With his own help, reaching the provincial or ministerial level in the future was possible.

Meng Dehai's fate had completely changed.

...

Zhao Yang drove, rushing over a hundred kilometers, and reached the Provincial Committee before the end of the workday.

Meng Dehai made calls all the way, using every connection he could mobilize, just to secure a chance to see Secretary Song ten minutes before the end of the day.

At the Provincial Committee, Zhao Yang was sensible enough not to follow him in, waiting in the parking lot instead.

Half an hour later, Meng Dehai came out.

His steps were firm, and his eyes held an irrepressible excitement.

Zhao Yang leaned against the car door: "Uncle Meng, you're in a good mood."

Meng Dehai walked over and patted him heavily on the shoulder: "Xiao Zhao, thank you."

Zhao Yang snapped his fingers: "Then how about you do me a small favor?"

Meng Dehai was taken aback: "Speak."

"My girlfriend's brother wants to open a phs store. The procedures are all compliant, but it's stuck with Gong Kaijiang. Can you give him a call to nudge him?"

"That's it?" Meng Dehai raised an eyebrow. "What else? If you're speaking up, it can't be just this little thing."

"Give me another long vacation, just a week. Having come back from undercover, I want to go out for a walk."

Meng Dehai's expression became more serious, thinking Zhao Yang was having psychological issues due to being undercover. He asked with concern: "Do you need psychological counseling?"

"That won't be necessary. After all, I've professionally studied Acting, so I can adjust myself."

Of course, it wasn't that Zhao Yang had psychological problems; he needed to go to the Imperial Capital to handle a relatively important matter.

Meng Dehai glanced at him and didn't ask further: "Fine, I'll give you a recuperation leave. Rest well, and don't come to work while you're unwell."

He checked the time: "It's late, let's eat first."

"I'm not familiar with the provincial capital. Uncle Meng, you pick a place, and I'll treat."

"How can I let you treat?"

"With that little salary of yours, you should save it for my cousin's dowry." Zhao Yang's tone carried a bit of smugness. "I just got my first manuscript fee, and it's not a small amount. This meal must be on me."

"Manuscript fee? How much?"

"After tax, there's 123,856 yuan and 43 cents left."

Meng Dehai was stunned for a moment: "How much?"

"Over 120,000," Zhao Yang said. "The book is selling well. Editor-in-Chief Niu said it needs a reprint and is urging me to finish writing the rest quickly."

Meng Dehai sucked in a breath through his teeth and was silent for a long time.

As a deputy bureau-level cadre, his monthly salary was only about a thousand yuan. This twenty-two-year-old youngster in front of him had earned ten years of his salary just by writing some damn book.

"Xiao Zhao, you need to report this matter to avoid people catching you on technicalities."

"Yeah, I'll wait until the end of the year. This is only for the first month; in the future, it'll be settled quarterly. I don't want to keep reporting it, it'll make it seem like I'm showing off."

Looking at that smiling face, Meng Dehai suddenly felt an urge to hit someone.

Was this even human language?

"Only" the first month?

And "settled quarterly"?

And he didn't want to show off?

Meng Dehai regretted why he had never thought of writing a novel. His junior high school essays had even won first place in the district!

After holding it in for a long time, Meng Dehai finally squeezed out a sentence: "I'm going to order some expensive dishes in a bit."

Zhao Yang almost couldn't help laughing out loud.

He began to look forward to Meng Dehai's expression when he found out his net worth after returning from the Imperial Capital.

...

In the end, Meng Dehai was too embarrassed to order a whole table of dishes, opting for four dishes and a soup, a mix of meat and vegetables. Zhao Yang was driving and didn't drink, while Meng Dehai ordered a bottle of Luzhou Laojiao, drank half, and took the rest with him.

Back in Jinghai, when they parked below Meng Dehai's apartment, it was almost ten o'clock.

Two people were lingering at the entrance of the building—An Xin and Meng Yu. One didn't want to leave, and the other didn't want to go in.

Zhao Yang glanced at the sleeping Meng Dehai in the back seat and shouted toward them: "Stop being so lovey-dovey, come over and give me a hand. Uncle Meng drank too much."

An Xin hurried over and helped Zhao Yang carry Meng Dehai upstairs. Meng Yu's face was a bit red when she opened the door, though it was unclear if it was from embarrassment or anger.

After sorting everything out, Zhao Yang drove toward the hotel.

Chen Yan was returning to the Imperial Capital tomorrow.

Tonight, he probably wouldn't be getting any sleep.