Song Xian wasn't willing to drag this out any longer.
But she wasn't the one driving, and she couldn't disregard Liu Zhiguo and Liu Zhijun's opinions.
Most importantly, Guo Yujie and I didn't support her this time either.
"They have to get off work too. They've already gone out of their way to accompany you. That's enough," Liu Zhiguo said.
He had been excessively polite to us from beginning to end, no longer treating us with the disdain he'd shown when we first met.
I had a rough idea why.
Director Mao had told us that there were all sorts of rumors in Workers and Peasants Sixth Village. For one thing, so many incidents had occurred there over the past year, including some downright bizarre ones, that they had stirred up the older residents' memories of Ye Qing and weighed on the minds of the middle-aged and younger residents. For another, as the rumors spread, new versions had emerged. In one, the demolition office had turned into a group of Taoist priests who knew how to perform rituals. An even more "scientific" version claimed the government had hired feng shui masters to perform ceremonies and drive people out of Workers and Peasants Sixth Village. The families who refused to leave and ended up ruined were held up as a warning.
Whether or not anyone believed the rumors, their attitudes had changed. The stories had affected them psychologically. They no longer treated us as staff they could push around, nor did they feel they had the upper hand and could order us about or file complaints whenever they were unhappy, making sure we'd pay for it.
This situation had certainly made our work much easier.
Liu Zhiguo was polite to Guo Yujie and me. Though his tone toward Song Xian was