Zhang Hongbo waved a hand, and Fatty Sun trotted over eagerly. Once the last deputy director had left and closed the door behind him, Zhang Hongbo finally said with a smile,
"Pull up Su Chen's file for me."
Fatty Sun said reluctantly, "Can't you access it directly? Why do you need to go through me?"
"I'm only overseeing things in Old Yuan's place until he returns. It's better to use your internal channels." Zhang Hongbo gestured for Fatty Sun to sit.
Though Fatty Sun was deeply unwilling, he could only perch on the edge of the chair as if sitting on pins and needles. Moving as though in slow motion, he laboriously opened his wristband, brought up Su Chen's file, and projected it onto the desk.
"Oh?" Zhang Hongbo feigned surprise. "He earned a collective third-class merit award on his first day reporting in..."
"I didn't expect Old Yuan to assign him to an ordinary patrol team. What impartiality. Let me see his attendance record."
As he spoke, Zhang Hongbo scrolled down, then nodded in satisfaction. "Perfect attendance. Not bad, not bad. A fine pillar of Southwind City."
Fatty Sun's scalp tingled. He could not make heads or tails of what Zhang Hongbo meant.
"Go back and tell him to work hard. Southwind City's future depends on people like them." Zhang Hongbo waved him away.
Fatty Sun felt as though he had been pardoned. He hurried out, the fat on his body jiggling up and down.
"Brother, what's so urgent?"
After a burst of frantic knocking, Su Chen let the panting Fatty Sun inside.
"Little brother, the City Lord has his eye on you," Fatty Sun said quietly.
Su Chen's eyelids twitched. "What happened?"
"Just now..." Fatty Sun supported himself on the chair as he sat down, still shaken.