Chapter 13 Security Department

The Security Department was arguably the largest division in the company. The entire first floor, along with the enormous security office near the main entrance, belonged to its domain. For now, Yang Changfeng was not yet qualified to stand guard at the gate.

Don’t underestimate the gate post; for every security guard in the department, it was almost a dream assignment. Sitting in the guard room all day, or standing under the shade of a parasol, one could earn three times the regular wage. Given that the company’s base salary was already quite generous, triple pay was a considerable sum.

Though it was somewhat exhausting.

Arriving at the corridor around the corner on the first floor, Wang Hu called out, and a figure shuffled over—a man whose appearance was rather timid, not exactly sleazy, but always seemed to evoke a sense of meekness. To describe him precisely, he resembled the famous actor Lai Xi—this was Zhang Baode, an ordinary security guard. Watching him rush in from the farthest corner, carrying a broom and a metal file, his cap askew, it was hard not to associate him with the odd-job staff.

“This is the new security guard. Take him to study the company’s regulations,” Wang Hu said to Zhang Baode, clearly unimpressed, barely sparing him a glance. With a wave, he delegated the task and strode toward the elevator, hands clasped behind his back.

As a department-level leader, Wang Hu’s office was not on the first floor. He did not mingle with the ordinary guards; upstairs, he had a more prestigious workspace.

Zhang Baode stood respectfully, waiting for Wang Hu to enter the elevator. Only when it ascended did he dare greet Yang Changfeng, squinting his small eyes, transforming instantly into a comical, yet slightly tragic, little figure.

With a cheerful grin, Zhang Baode said, “Hello, hello. Well, I can’t really teach you much. I’ll take you to the study room, and you can read on your own, alright?”

Yang Changfeng smiled and extended his hand. While he avoided showing deference to those high above, he always maintained a respectful attitude toward those who lived hard, exhausting lives.

Zhang Baode was surprised that Yang Changfeng wanted to shake his hand, hurriedly removed his gloves, wiped his palm on his shirt, and finally shook hands, embarrassed. “No one’s ever shown me much respect. You’re too polite, really too polite.”

It was their first meeting, and Yang Changfeng did not intend to converse much with this good-natured, honest man—too much familiarity might harm him.

There was no rush; time would reveal everything.

Since Wang Hu took advantage of the night shift, surrounded by his own men, to conduct shady dealings, it would not be difficult to catch him in the act. For these first few days, it was better to lie low and observe.

In the study room—a cramped space barely ten square meters—Yang Changfeng spent the day skimming through a stack of regulations nearly half a meter thick. He had no intention of memorizing it all.

If Wang Hu sought to nitpick on this, so be it—reason could easily be proved with a fist, and Wang Hu looked like someone well worth reasoning with. In this regard, Yang Changfeng had no plans to be modest.

He was also aware of Wang Hu’s intimidating power over small figures like Zhang Baode. If he did not demonstrate enough strength to stand up to Wang Hu, no one would dare approach him. Status in the world was forged with fists.

He rubbed his eyes, checked the time—it was already the end of the workday. Stretching lazily, he thought of his abilities beyond mere fists, and felt even more reassured.

Zhang Baode, having changed clothes and come specifically to tell him it was time to leave, noticed Yang Changfeng lingering. He peered outside, then returned to advise cautiously, “Come on, don’t try to impress anyone. The night shift isn’t for us, and see? Even the gate post isn’t for us—we don’t have that privilege. Let’s go home; wives and children are waiting.”

Curious, Yang Changfeng only then learned that the gate post paid three times the wage. His opinion of Chen Aijia improved slightly.

Though she seemed nothing special from his perspective, she treated her employees—particularly those who worked hard—quite well.

Yang Changfeng patted Zhang Baode’s arm, smiling, “Zhang, I never expected to be a main player right away. Don’t worry, I won’t overthink it. You head home; I have a friend—yes, I was referred here by a friend—I’ll treat them to dinner later, as a token of thanks. That’s just being courteous, don’t you think?”

Zhang Baode suddenly understood, nodded, and smiled, “Of course, of course. You wait here then; I’ll head home first.”

Easily satisfied, he hummed an old song as he left, carrying a battered schoolbag—perhaps his child’s, perhaps someone else’s—grinning all the way.

Several guards circled the entrance, gesturing and gossiping about Yang Changfeng. He hoped they would come looking for trouble—perfect for a bit of practice, to confirm the department’s new dynamics. Yet, it seemed Wang Hu had warned them off for now; they merely recognized Yang Changfeng’s face, grouped up, and headed off after work. Someone called, “Guys, don’t go out messing around after dinner. With things so busy lately, why not hit the basement gym?”

Responses echoed from near and far.

A show of force, perhaps?

Yang Changfeng picked his ear, smiling as he flicked the debris neatly into the trash. He rolled his neck, bones cracking along his spine. It seemed the time to stretch his muscles was fast approaching—within a day or two.

It would be best not to approach Xu Jie’er just yet, not to draw his enemies’ attention to her. As for those enemies—well, one hand would suffice to deal with them.

He’d already chosen the location; the company had a gym in the basement, how convenient—no need to go far!

When the other employees had gone, elegant footsteps tapped across the floor outside—high heels clicking with poise and confidence, a sense of assured control. The security guards offered greetings.

Chen Aijia descended the stairs.

Yang Changfeng glanced at his hand and smiled silently.

Solving Wang Hu’s problem for her would count as repayment for the fifteen thousand, and perhaps as compensation for his recent lack of “respect.”

He stood, wondering what Chen Aijia wanted to discuss with him alone. Was she so eager to have him catch Wang Hu’s misconduct on his very first day?

That didn’t seem likely—she was not so shallow.

So, what would she say?