C14 Beautiful Lie

When Fatty Shao was asked to lend his car, he didn't hesitate for a second. He tossed the keys over generously and said, "Just make sure you bring it back before New Year's. I've got gifts to deliver in the county, and I can't be late."

Xue Lang chuckled in response, "Relax, I won't hold you up."

His words were light, but his heart was anything but. Without wasting another moment, he hit the road and headed straight for the national highway.

Xue Lang was gone for over half a month. It wasn't until the 25th of the twelfth lunar month that he made his way back to the grain depot.

In the interim, he'd only sent the occasional text to Fatty Shao to assure him he was safe. He hadn't been in touch with anyone else, not even replying to messages from Cui Ying or Bai Xiaogui. He seemed to be swamped.

Nearly twenty days had passed when Fatty Shao got the call that Xue Lang was back at the 4S store. His heart lurched, fearing that his nearly new Ling Du had been in an accident, so he raced over on his motorcycle.

Upon seeing Xue Lang, his face weather-beaten and dusty, Fatty Shao dismounted and asked, "Everything okay?"

"All good, not a single part missing," Xue Lang replied, tossing the keys back to Fatty Shao. He gestured toward the shop and added, "The car's inside, almost ready to go."

Fatty Shao caught the keys and headed straight into the shop without another question. There it was, his car, freshly washed and looking brand new.

Nothing seemed amiss...

Fatty Shao gave Xue Lang a quizzical look, then inspected the car. He found no trace of damage or repairs – even the tire rims were gleaming.

After Fatty Shao had completed his inspection, Xue Lang mentioned, "I just got the tires changed; the old ones are right over there."

That's when Fatty Shao noticed the tires were pristine, not even the slightest scuff – brand new and smooth. He laughed and playfully chided, "What a waste, burning through money like that. Why'd you need new tires?"

A flicker of remorse passed through Xue Lang's somber eyes as he smiled and explained, "I drove quite a distance. The old tires are still good, I'll keep them as spares."

He'd gone a bit too far...

Before Fatty Shao could fully process the news, Xue Lang added, "I've replaced the filters, oil, and antifreeze. We should test drive it later."

"Test drive my foot!"

Fatty Shao bristled at the suggestion, "Isn't the point of a car to just drive it? Why bother spending money on new tires and maintenance? You've really gone overboard this time."

Xue Lang chuckled and replied, "It needed maintenance. If I hadn't done it, you would have. Quit your griping. I'm going to ride the motorcycle back and drop it off with the team, then head home."

Without giving Fatty Shao a chance to retort, Xue Lang left the maintenance room, his slightly worn camping bag slung over his shoulder, and with the engine roaring, he sped off into the distance.

He never said 'thank you' before he left. The word had been said to him so many times recently that it carried extra weight in his heart. As for repaying the favor, that would have to wait until he was out of the granary.

Fatty Shao, who had followed him out, stopped short and didn't call out.

Xue Lang seemed different today, somehow off, with the dust on his face hinting at a newfound depth, or maybe it was maturity.

What's going on...

Muttering to himself, Fatty Shao turned back and re-entered the maintenance room.

He arrived just in time to see the final touches of waxing being completed. The mechanic, seeing Fatty Shao's return, wiped his hands and asked, "Boss, should I put the tires in the trunk?"

Fatty Shao glanced at the tires that had been taken off, shook his head, and said, "I'll have the granary's little dumper come get them later."

With that, he opened the car door and climbed in.

Settling into the driver's seat, he instinctively glanced at the workbench and his eyes widened in shock.

His car had only logged a little over two thousand kilometers when he'd lent it to Xue Lang. Now, the odometer read 16,000 kilometers.

"Holy crap! Did he take it on a world tour or something?"

That's when it clicked for Fatty Shao—the reason for the maintenance, the reason for the new tires. In the span of seventeen or eighteen days, the car had been driven an average of nearly a thousand kilometers daily.

As Fatty Shao wrestled with his confusion, Xue Lang pulled up to the motorcade and tossed the keys to Liu Zhong. He brushed off the invitation for a meal later that evening, exchanged a few brief words, and hurried off to the station.

On the coach, Xue Lang sat in silence. The deep lines etched into his youthful, handsome face and the sorrowful look in his eyes as he gazed out the window drew frequent glances from the young girls aboard.

Fleeting shadows of trees sped by, mirroring the fleeting confusion and pain that crossed Xue Lang's somber eyes. Yet these moments were brief, and soon his gaze settled back into its usual melancholy.

He had traveled over two thousand kilometers to Longxi in less than thirty hours. Following the address, he located the widow of his fallen comrade, Lu Hanmei.

Standing before this resilient, ordinary woman, Xue Lang felt waves of pain in his heart. He kept his complex emotions in check, leveraging his identity as her husband's comrade and brother-in-arms, and his intimate knowledge of her husband to earn Lu Hanmei's trust. Together, they went to the hospital.

The diagnosis for Lu Hanmei was malnutrition and shortness of breath from overexertion—no serious illness. However, the doctor warned that her health would deteriorate if she continued this way, and it would be difficult to treat any future illness.

In just a few hours, Xue Lang learned the full story. To help her brother-in-law marry, she had sold the only decent house they had, left her hometown with her child, and lied to her family about visiting her husband at the army base.

With no particular skills and the burden of caring for her child, she, an ordinary woman, resorted to scavenging to make ends meet, all the while saving to send money back home for her ailing father-in-law's medicine.

With moist eyes, Xue Lang discreetly left twenty thousand yuan for her and departed Longxi, his spirit heavy.

He questioned whether the twenty thousand yuan would be enough to assist his comrade's family. He had one hundred and forty thousand yuan in his pocket, a substantial amount from Lee Shuwu, but he couldn't leave it all behind—he had to check on the well-being of his other comrades' families.

Over the span of half a month, he drove through five provinces and met with the families of all his comrades, except for Cui Guangyi's.

In the dead of winter, the siblings of my comrades-in-arms were wearing shoes with toes poking out, their clothes shabbier than those of professional panhandlers; some were so faded, their original colors indiscernible, and the thought of attending school was out of the question.

Witnessing the parents of his fellow soldiers struggling in destitution, their bodies worn down, and meeting the relatives who, despite their dire poverty, remained hopeful, Xue Lang felt a sharp pain in his heart.

He left behind the money intended for Fatty Shao's car maintenance and tire replacement. Aside from what was needed for tolls and fuel, he gave away the remaining sum of over a hundred thousand yuan. The reason he gave was simply that their son, their brother, had sent it through a fellow soldier's sibling.

It was a noble falsehood, yet Xue Lang was uncertain how long he could sustain this facade, as it required funds to continue.

Throughout his journey home, he pondered relentlessly on a reliable way to assist his comrades' families and ensure their siblings could pursue their education.

While the solution seemed obvious, Xue Lang lacked business experience; making money wasn't something that happened overnight. Even upon returning home, he hadn't figured out a surefire way to generate income.

At home, he managed to mask his inner turmoil amidst the bustle, but to his surprise, his grandfather noticed something was amiss.

Once everyone had left, his grandfather, holding the well-worn liquor bottle, said, "Little Wolf, come, I didn't quite enjoy my drink earlier. Join me for a bit more tonight."

"Of course, Grandpa."

Xue Lang replied, serving up peanuts, soy sauce pork, and pickles before sitting on the heated brick bed.

After taking a sip from the glass Xue Lang had poured, Grandpa inquired, "Little Wolf, something's weighing on you, isn't it?"

"No, not at all."

Xue Lang tried to hide his concern, downing his glass in one go and reaching for the chopsticks. But before he could grab some peanuts, Grandpa set down his cup and said, "Go on, talk to me. Let Grandpa help you figure it out."

Realizing his grandfather was convinced he was troubled, Xue Lang struggled with how to confess his desire to leave the grain depot to strike out on his own. That job was his grandfather's legacy, a position earned through hard work, and it was something he simply couldn't bring himself to discuss.

Grandpa picked up a peanut and chewed it thoughtfully before speaking. "Little Wolf, I've been watching you grow since you were nursing. You can't hide your troubles from me. Come on, out with it. I may be old, but I'm not out of my wits yet."

Faced with his grandfather's determination to dig deeper, Xue Lang poured some wine and replied with a smile, "Grandpa, I've joined the transport team at the grain depot and started driving the big trucks. The job's not bad, but it feels like the pay is still too low. When will I be able to afford a house and find a wife?"

"Buy a house?" Grandpa's eyes, which had grown cloudy with age, suddenly sparkled with clarity, but it was fleeting. After a sip of wine, he said leisurely, "If it's about providing for a family, the grain depot is far superior to most places. People need food; it's essential. And the nation always prioritizes its food reserves. As for the transport team, it's a chance to earn a little extra on the side, safer than most businesses and reliable. Work steadily, and in three or four years, buying a house shouldn't be a problem."

"Is it really as simple as you make it sound? Three or four years..." Xue Lang muttered to himself, calculating the local housing prices—over a thousand per square meter, easily eighty to ninety thousand for a modest place. Wouldn't that require an income of thirty to forty thousand a year?

"Don't believe me? Let me explain," Grandpa said, taking another sip of his drink. "The transport team is where the money flows. Repairing vehicles requires invoices, and besides that, you've got to return the old parts. When refueling, even with our own station, it's a cash transaction with an invoice. With every invoice, there's a way to overstate a little, spend a little less, swap parts, get a junk piece to do the job. Who doesn't make a few thousand each month?"

Seeing Xue Lang's growing interest, Grandpa continued, "On long hauls, the fuel and repair invoices are one thing, but the real money's in the side jobs. A good run can net you three to five thousand."

"Grandpa, you're not suggesting I engage in corruption, are you?" Xue Lang asked, taken aback.

Grandpa gave Xue Lang a sidelong glance and said in his unhurried way, "This is just how ordinary folks make do, nothing like embezzlement. It's been the same in every government office throughout history. There's an old saying: 'What the unit has, the family has; what the family lacks, the unit provides.' Taking a bit from the government isn't a grave sin."

Xue Lang was at a loss for words. His military training had never included lessons like these.

Unexpectedly, the very next day, Fifth Grandpa and Eighth Grandpa took it upon themselves to teach him the 'tricks of the trade,' filling his head with all sorts of tactics for entertaining, gift-giving, and splitting money. Xue Lang marveled at how shrewd and worldly his grandfathers were, as slick as seasoned players in the game of life. Overwhelmed, he took his family's big yellow dog and headed to the mountains early the next morning to train vigorously, too wary to show his face again.

He took to heart the wisdom imparted by his grandfathers.

Running a business, he realized, was akin to attending school; without a process to follow, very few could master it on their own.

Thus, he resolved to start by working with the motorcade, gradually seeking out opportunities to earn money. His goal was to cover the living expenses and tuition for his family: three high schoolers, two middle schoolers, two elementary-aged children, and a brother and sister just starting their college journey.

What he hadn't grasped yet was that the income from the motorcade rivaled, or even surpassed, that of white-collar professionals in major cities. Otherwise, how could the drivers so effortlessly settle down, get married, and purchase homes, even when their family backgrounds were not particularly affluent?