Chapter 297 60 years old, the perfect age to take risks!

The Coaster minibus sped along the highway, heading toward the city ahead.

Meanwhile.

On the other side.

Liu Jianguo had already boarded a private plane bound for Baishui City.

Inside the cabin, it was very quiet, with only the low roar of the engines echoing in his ears.

Liu Jianguo leaned back against the wide, soft seat, his eyes tightly shut.

Although he had his eyes closed, attempting to get some rest, his clenched fists and gritted teeth completely betrayed his extremely turbulent state of mind.

The more he thought about it, the more he gnashed his teeth, his breathing becoming noticeably heavier.

He had to settle this score with that brat properly!

'Li Jiajun, you Little Rascal!'

Liu Jianguo ranted crazily in his mind, his mouth twitching uncontrollably.

He suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze filled with a resolve to seek revenge.

This time, his trip to Baishui City wasn't just to confiscate that deadly Fishing Rod production line.

He also wanted to tell the other party something in person.

He wanted to stand in front of that brat and tell him loudly: "Uncle Jianguo appreciates you, but I don't like the way you do things!"

An hour later.

The private plane landed steadily at Baishui City Airport.

The cabin door opened.

Liu Jianguo didn't pause for a moment; accompanied by several accompanying material science Experts and Special Agents, he walked quickly out of the airport terminal.

Outside the airport, a designated vehicle, already arranged by local authorities, had been waiting for a long time.

The group quickly boarded.

Several black sedans with special license plates formed a small motorcade.

The doors closed, and the engines started.

The motorcade drove imposingly onto the main road, speeding toward the unfamiliar new address on the map—the new Li Family Toy Factory site.

Meanwhile.

At the main gate of the new Li Family Toy Factory in the suburbs of Baishui City, the scene was one of peaceful tranquility.

A gentle summer breeze blew by, bringing a touch of coolness.

Li Jiajun stood with his hands behind his back in the shade inside the main gate.

His mood today could be described as excellent, and he was chatting animatedly with the security guard, Old Zhang.

"Old Zhang, I am very gratified that you were willing to follow me and actively help open the new factory."

Li Jiajun looked at the elderly security guard with graying hair before him and said with a gratified expression.

His earnest tone, combined with his youthful face, gave him quite the air of an old cadre.

"After all, opening a new factory involves risks. Many old employees prefer to stay in their original positions, not daring to venture out."

"Your spirit is worthy of praise!"

Li Jiajun got more and more enthusiastic as he spoke, directly elevating the conversation to a higher level.

"Keep guarding the gate well, Old Zhang; 60 is the perfect age to venture out!"

"In the future, when we have an even bigger factory, you will guard that too. Keep striving."

After saying this with a straight face, Li Jiajun reached out his right hand.

He patted Old Zhang's shoulder heavily and offered a few words of encouragement.

Having finished this speech of empty promises, Li Jiajun turned around, feeling satisfied.

He hummed a happy tune and walked away with a light step.

Walking on the smooth factory road, Li Jiajun felt that the air in the new factory area was extra sweet.

'Life has finally returned to the right track.'

This thought emerged in his mind.

He truly felt refreshed all over now.

Because his newly developed Fishing Rod was selling like hotcakes in his online store.

The order notification sound in the background never stopped; this was all cold, hard cash.

Most importantly, days had passed, and there was absolutely no sign of being investigated.

No sudden military trucks, no serious-faced Expert teams.

Everything seemed so normal, so commercialized.

He felt that his path of "safe transformation" was absolutely correct.

At the new factory gate.

Watching the back of the Factory Director as he left, Old Zhang stood there, speechless to the extreme.

He shook his head silently.

'I'm just a gatekeeper, and you're here giving me lofty speeches and empty promises.'

Old Zhang ranted crazily in his heart.

'And 60 is the perfect age to venture out?'

'I'm already such an old bag of bones, what is there for me to venture into? Venturing into the gates of hell?'

Old Zhang sighed, feeling that Factory Director Li was great in every way, but sometimes his train of thought was just too bizarre.

He turned and walked back into his security booth.

This new security booth had just been built; it was much more spacious than the dilapidated kiosk in the old factory, and the air conditioning was strong.

Old Zhang sat comfortably on the old rocking chair that had accompanied him for many years.

He reached out and turned on the radio on the table, which had seen better days.

The radio was playing a cheerful little tune, chirping away, which was very much to Old Zhang's taste.

He picked up his teacup, took a sip, and started humming along.

He felt wonderful inside.

He began to think to himself, muttering aloud.

Actually, the reason he was willing to follow the Factory Director to this godforsaken new factory wasn't for the sake of a career or venturing out.

He was purely doing it to find some peace and quiet!

The days spent as a security guard at the old factory were simply unbearable.

As the security guard, he was on tenterhooks all day, restless day and night.

He was terrified that one day, the gate would open and Liu Jianguo would bring a large troop again to requisition things.

Every time that happened, it was enough to scare a person to death.

He was just an ordinary old man; where would he have seen such scenes?

Old Zhang rocked his chair comfortably while muttering to himself:

"I've been on the verge of a nervous breakdown lately; I might end up getting a mental illness one of these days."

Thinking about these comforting thoughts, Old Zhang relaxed completely.

The rocking chair made a slight sound.

He leaned back against the chair, habitually raised his eyes, and glanced at the surveillance screen on the wall.

Immediately, he withdrew his gaze.

He closed his eyes, continued listening to the little tune, and tapped his fingers on his thigh to the beat.

Then, he began to mutter to himself:

"Look at me, my eyes are so old and blurry; I actually saw Director Liu Jianguo on the surveillance monitor outside again."

Then, the air in the security booth went silent at that moment.

The little tune on the radio was still playing tirelessly.

But Old Zhang's humming stopped abruptly.

A chill shot straight up his spine to the back of his head.

His heart went numb.

His head, which had already turned away, moved like a rusty gear, inch by inch, incredibly stiffly, and turned back.