Zhang Xing did not go over to shake hands and exchange pleasantries. It was not that becoming Dragonhead of the Left Wing had gone to his head, but that, in this military and political environment, someone of the other man's status and position coming over to his side was essentially no great matter. Rather, the man's enthusiasm, speed, and impassioned generosity set Great Dragonhead Zhang's heart drumming, leaving him wondering just how much opportunism lay behind it.
Of course, people had to be allowed to seize opportunities. The key was to make rewards and punishments clear, and to work toward building the sufficiently accessible and fair path of advancement for everyone that he had repeatedly found himself reflecting on lately.
If he could accomplish that, neither handshakes nor opportunism really mattered.
As for why he had always shaken hands and called people his closest brothers before, even when he knew some of them were hesitant about so much as taking a chance on him, that followed a different logic.
It was like romance and marriage. During courtship, whether both parties rushed toward each other or one pursued the other alone, gestures beyond the ordinary, if things worked out later, became romance and memories etched into the bones and heart-just as Zhang Xing would never in his life forget Bai Yousi waiting for him in the rain in that hollow in Red Mountain. But once married, people had to face practical interests and everyday life, the firewood, rice, oil, and salt. What mattered then was calm in daily life and respect for each other, along with weathering storms in the same boat on a material foundation. Having those romantic, unforgettable moments was certainly good, but people could spend a lifetime together without them. When both had grown old together, even a