Chapter 94: The Arrogant Wu Lei

Huanhuan was frightened by his gaze and clung to Chen Huajiang’s head, a little scared. Chen Huajiang, too, became cold and distant, looking at the other man with indifference.

“How much I donate is none of your concern, and frankly, you’re not qualified to worry about it,” he said. “As for the rotten apple, those types never think they’re the rotten apple. Stuffing themselves until they’re fat and bloated—maybe it’s time to lose some weight. Otherwise, when mixed in with the crowd, one might mistake them for some sort of animal.”

Chen Huajiang spoke with disdain, and his words provoked a few snickers from those nearby. Wu Lei was so angry he clenched his teeth, his gaze growing fiercer.

What animal? Anyone with a brain could tell he meant a fat pig. In these times, resources were scarce and fat people were rare as phoenix feathers. On the basketball court right now, Wu Lei was the only fat person among the crowd.

Wu Lei glared hatefully at Chen Huajiang, then turned and walked away. The crowd that had come with him followed him out in a rush.

It was now 1:50 p.m., and everyone began heading toward the factory’s kindergarten. On the way, Chen Huajiang took the wrong direction, prompting Lin Jiayin to tug his arm and give him a glare.

“That’s the back gate of the kindergarten, where the kids play. The door’s always locked,” she said.

Chen Huajiang smiled awkwardly. He knew where the kindergarten was, but had never actually been there, so he couldn’t tell the front entrance from the back.

Soon, everyone arrived at the Red Flag Factory Kindergarten. The exterior wall looked battered and old, the plaster peeling off in large patches, exposing the red bricks beneath.

“The factory’s so stingy. They should allocate funds to fix the wall, but they want us parents to pay,” someone complained.

“Don’t say that. The factory’s been doing poorly lately, so the kindergarten had to resort to this. Every year, the factory used to pay for the wall to be repainted,” another replied.

“Keep it down, don’t let the teachers hear. They didn’t even get paid last month. Yesterday when I picked up my kid, Teacher Wang had a sour face.”

As the parents entered the kindergarten, many whispered and exchanged remarks.

The kindergarten itself was large. In these days, factory kindergartens might not match the later generations in terms of facilities and decoration, but the land was never an issue. Land was not precious yet—most factories were planned at random, since they belonged to the state and those in charge often turned a blind eye.

At the front of the kindergarten was a big yard, fenced with pickets. Inside were toys like seesaws, slides, and a merry-go-round.

Beyond the yard lay the main kindergarten area, and behind that another large yard, which was followed by a small bamboo grove. Chen Huajiang had originally intended to enter from the bamboo grove into the rear yard and then into the kindergarten.

“Parents, welcome. The purpose of today’s meeting is clear to all,” said Director Zhang Cuiling, who was in her fifties, scanning the parents from the podium.

“I’ll keep it brief. For better education and a safe, beautiful environment for your children, our kindergarten has decided to repair the outer wall and hire someone to paint children’s murals. Many of the toys in the yard are frayed and splintered—a child was injured recently—so we need a carpenter to fix them.

“In previous years, the factory covered these costs, but this year, with poor performance and financial hardship, they’ve put the burden on us. We haven’t received our wages either, and there’s no money for repairs. So after much thought, we must turn to you, asking everyone to share the costs of refurbishing the kindergarten.”

As she spoke, she signaled Teacher Wang Xiufang to bring a small blackboard to the podium.

“This contribution is voluntary, not enforced. If there’s extra money, the kindergarten, like a temple or shrine, will erect a plaque in the bamboo grove to commemorate your generosity.”

Director Zhang finished, and Wu Lei immediately spoke up in a loud voice, his gaze challenging Chen Huajiang.

“Director Zhang, no need for a plaque. The kindergarten is doing this for our children, the money is for them, not for anyone else. Of course we should contribute.”

His words drew friendly smiles and nods from Director Zhang and Teacher Wang. At this moment, the kindergarten needed parents like Wu Lei to help solve their difficulties.

“Group Leader Wu is right. We have a duty,” someone chimed in.

“Yes, for our children’s sake, we should pay,” another agreed.

“Group Leader Wu put it well—those with money can give more, those with strength can help,” others echoed, and soon the entire kindergarten was filled with a chorus of agreement.

Even Chen Huajiang’s side, including He Song and others, could only join in. No one was a fool; their children still had to study here. To voice opposition now would risk earning the teachers’ resentment.

“Contributing is expected, but Director Zhang, there’s no need to record amounts on the blackboard. Perhaps set up a donation box, so people can put in money as they wish. This way, there’s less pressure to compare. Those with more can give more, those with less can give less. Otherwise, the donations will vary, and those who give little will feel embarrassed,” Chen Huajiang suggested.

“This parent is right. Our kindergarten overlooked this, since it’s our first time facing such a situation,” Director Zhang said, her expression shifting slightly.

The parents nodded in agreement. Chen Huajiang had spoken to their greatest concern. If they gave too much, it was a burden; too little, and it was embarrassing. They also feared their children might face discrimination.

“Hmph, what nonsense! You’re just trying to shirk your responsibility and avoid paying,” Wu Lei snapped. “Chen Huajiang, stop playing tricks. Your family has taken enough advantage of our Red Flag Factory, and now you want to give nothing or just a token sum? Do you think that’s possible?”

“I, Wu Lei, am willing to donate twenty yuan to help repair the wall and toys, to give the children a better environment. But I hope my money goes to the children, not to the offspring of certain profiteers and petty people.”

Wu Lei stood up, glaring provocatively at Chen Huajiang and speaking loudly. Twenty yuan was a month’s wage for an ordinary worker—it was a generous offer.

“Thank you, parent of Wu Dongdong,” said Teacher Wang and another female teacher on the podium, their faces full of gratitude.

According to Director Zhang’s plan, if there was extra money, it would be used to pay their overdue wages. Wu Lei’s “generosity” was naturally appreciated.

The room buzzed with unrest. Many parents were unhappy with Wu Lei’s behavior, but dared not say anything, instead recalculating how much they should donate. Most abandoned their original budget and began to rework their donation amounts.

Just as Chen Huajiang had predicted, their worst fears had come to pass—and there was no stopping it.

“Hmph!” Wu Lei snorted triumphantly at Chen Huajiang, folded his arms, and sat back down.