Gong Xizhen was going to act as Jian Yushu’s guarantor?!
Deputy Bank President Liu nearly choked on his tea.
He coughed for quite a while before finally catching his breath.
He looked up, about to glare at Gong Xizhen, only to see her carefully wiping off a few drops of water that had splashed onto the document.
Deputy President Liu felt like his lungs were about to explode from anger.
“Gong Xizhen!” He slammed the table and stood up, not even bothering with formalities anymore.
After finishing wiping the document, Gong Xizhen remained calm.
“Deputy President Liu, when I reported this earlier, I already mentioned that I believe this is worth trying.”
“Since there’s an opportunity to do it, of course I’ll take it.”
“Reform doesn’t happen overnight, but we also can’t stand still.”
“I understand that you’re a senior leader nearing retirement and don’t want any mistakes—but I’m willing to take responsibility.”
“This may only be a small step, but I’m willing to take it.”
“Fine, fine!” Deputy President Liu sat back down. “Then go ahead—you handle it!”
If not for the fact that he couldn’t afford to offend the Gong family, he would have fired her on the spot.
No one in the bank had ever handled personal loans before.
But Gong Xizhen was sharp and quickly figured out the process.
From signing the contract to disbursement, it would take about a week.
After setting a time, Lin Qiqi held the contract, nodding happily as she left the bank with Jian Yushu.
“It actually worked! Jian Yushu!” Her voice was so excited it practically floated.
“Say it—what do you want to eat? You choose, and I’ll cook anything I can get!”
Jian Yushu was infected by her mood, a faint smile on his lips.
“We’ll talk about that later. Take this.”
It was a kraft paper envelope.
On the bus ride home, Lin Qiqi finally opened it.
She had thought it would contain notes about personal loans—but instead, it held Jian Yushu’s contact information.
It turned out he was seconded to the Economic System Reform Commission and was also a specially appointed professor at Jiangnan University.
So young, and already a professor?
Lin Qiqi folded the paper back carefully, her feelings a little complicated.
For some reason, the envelope felt like he was introducing his background to her…
Almost like… a self-introduction before a matchmaking meeting.
While Lin Qiqi and Jiang Yunling’s lives were getting better, the Lin family was doing worse and worse.
The day they returned from the city, Lin Zhengxian looked dejected, and Shuilian’s pants were covered in blood.
When asked, they learned Yang Sufen had been detained.
Lin Zhengrong and Lin Zhengguang had to wait outside the police station for days before bringing her back.
Though Lin Zhengxian and Shuilian said nothing, rumors spread quickly.
Now the entire village knew—the unborn grandson of the Lin family was gone, pushed by Yang Sufen herself.
No one in the Lin family dared to talk about it, or even breathe too loudly.
During the day, Shuilian seemed fine. But at night, she would quietly cry in her room.
Lin Zhengxian was utterly fed up.
He had once disliked Jiang Yunling for crying too much—now it was the same again.
The next day, he announced at the dinner table that he would move back to the factory dormitory.
Yang Sufen, still somewhat unstable, immediately reacted.
“Zhengxian, are you abandoning your mother?”
“Are you blaming me?”
“How could I?” Lin Zhengxian replied, firmly taking her side.
As for Shuilian’s child—it was already gone. What else could be done?
“I’m just thinking—if the textile factory can allocate housing, then our welding rod factory surely can too.”
“I took sick leave for a few days, but now I need to perform well.”
“Once I find out how housing is allocated—if it’s based on household registration, we’ll move everyone onto my household.”
“Then we can all live in the city.”
The Lin family atmosphere immediately lifted.
Lin Zhengrong picked up food for him.
“Big brother, can this really work?”
“Why wouldn’t it?” Lin Zhengxian lifted his chin. “Even a cripple can get a house, according to Mom—of course I can too.”
“And I’ll get something bigger and better.”
“Then we’ll be relying on you,” Lin Zhengguang’s wife chimed in.
“Our whole family will become city people!”
Encouraged by their praise, Lin Zhengxian felt increasingly confident.
Getting a house seemed like a sure thing.
Before he left the village, Yang Sufen even had him bring a chicken and a basket of eggs as gifts for the leaders.
To the Lin family, it already seemed certain he would be allocated housing.
Yang Sufen returned to her arrogant self, bragging around the village that her eldest son would soon get a house in the city.
But Shuilian’s heart had completely gone cold.
No matter how nicely Lin Zhengxian spoke, it was all for the Lin family—it had nothing to do with her.
After her fall, they believed she had miscarried.
Yet days had passed, and no one suggested she go to the hospital, nor even made her a nourishing soup.
Men couldn’t be relied on—only children could.
At dinner that night, everyone ate silently.
Suddenly, Lin Zhengguang noticed a piece of meat placed in his bowl.
His wife sat on his right—but the meat came from the left.
He turned and saw Shuilian, head lowered, eyes downcast, but the corner of her gaze flicked toward him.
Like a small hook.
For the rest of the meal, Lin Zhengguang ate distractedly.
What exactly did this unofficial sister-in-law mean?
After three days of sleeping on the factory floor and making inquiries, Lin Zhengxian confirmed that the welding rod factory did indeed plan to allocate housing.
He intended to inform his family once he returned home.
But before his leave even began, he was summoned by the factory.
The factory director sat with an enamel mug in hand.
When Lin Zhengxian entered, he didn’t even look up.
“Sit.”
Lin Zhengxian smiled ingratiatingly, offering the chicken and eggs.
“Director, these are from my hometown—nothing valuable. Please take them home.”
The director finally glanced up, then sighed.
“Comrade Lin, when we work in the factory, we should focus on proper matters.”
“Don’t engage in crooked schemes.”
“Do you know why you were called here?”
Lin Zhengxian rubbed his hands.
“I know, I know—it’s about the housing allocation, right?”
“Director, my household has…” He counted on his fingers. “Eleven people. How big a place can we get?”
“Can we get two courtyards?”
The director almost laughed in anger.
He pulled out several sheets of paper from his drawer and slapped them onto the table.
“You still want a house? First explain this!”
Lin Zhengxian picked up the top kraft envelope and opened it.
At the top were three bold words:
Report Letter
Who the hell reported him?!