Chapter 1962 - Vice Director Wang

"They're finally here!"

Ai Zhixin swallowed his meal in three hasty gulps, tossed aside his lunchbox, and strode from the Harbor Treasury's makeshift office toward the dock.

After what felt like an eternity—waiting as one might for the stars and moon—the H800 bearing the Finance and Tax Bureau contingent glided into berth at the Great World wharf.

Under Ai Zhixin's relentless pressure and Cheng Dong's enthusiastic "concern," Wang Qiyi had at last arrived in Guangzhou, accompanied by cadres who'd completed rotation training in Qiongshan and Chengmai, along with students from the Lingao Vocational School's finance and taxation program.

"I've been counting the days." Ai Zhixin stood at the dock, radiating satisfaction as he clasped Wang Qiyi's hands firmly. "How was the crossing? Our vessels aren't renowned for their smooth sailing."

"Tolerable," Wang Qiyi managed, looking somewhat diminished by seasickness. The landlubber rallied enough to report: "Forty-seven in total. Twenty-five from rotation training, twenty-two from the finance and tax class. We've truly scraped the bottom of the barrel—Fangshaodi's program just lost half its enrollment."

"Our finance and economics department desperately needs its own institution. Perpetually sharing space with Fangshaodi is untenable—we're operating at a crippling disadvantage."

Wang Qiyi knew separation wouldn't help matters. Even the Army and Navy Academies, the Political Security School, and the Central Police Academy's preparatory programs—all formally independent—still operated from Fangshaodi. The reason was simple: access to classrooms, instructors, and equipment.

Ai Zhixin's gaze drifted to the group disembarking through the naturalized citizen channel, a cluster of bodies laden with bags and bundles. Each carried a standard rattan suitcase and canvas backpack, crowned with a rattan sun helmet. Most appeared exhausted, some even more haggard than Wang Qiyi. Fortunately, they were all young—eighteen, twenty at most—possessing that resilient vitality of youth. A good night's sleep would restore them. Then he noticed something amiss.

"Where are the women? Didn't Director Cheng promise before I left that he'd specifically request female students from Hu Qingbai?"

"My wife hasn't completed her training yet. You were in such a rush, so I brought only the students who finished their first year last cycle." Wang Qiyi thought privately, What are you scheming? Planning to turn the Finance and Tax Bureau into your personal harem?

"Excellent, excellent..." Learning reinforcements were still coming lifted Ai Zhixin's spirits considerably. "So you're arriving solo this time as well, Old Wang? No one to look after you?"

"No one!" Wang Qiyi bristled inwardly. This man certainly knew how to twist the knife. If you hadn't been so demanding, would I have needed to come separately from my wife?

"Perfect, perfect—don't give it another thought. Come, let me treat you to a proper meal first. Take in the sights of Guangzhou's Great World, then we'll visit the Purple Clarity Pavilion for a bath."

Wang Qiyi recoiled. "I can wash at the Great World guesthouse. I've never been one for that 'comprehensive wellness' business..."

Ai Zhixin laughed. "Nothing of the sort! You're a married man—how could I possibly create domestic trouble for you? Just a bath and massage, nothing more. A chance to properly relax. We've got plenty of work ahead. Come on, let's eat first!"

The transmigrator restaurant occupied the Great World's top floor. Open windows offered sweeping views of the entire complex. Being afternoon, the dining room was sparsely populated. Ai Zhixin secured a private room and ordered light, easily digestible dishes—partly for sustenance, partly to facilitate a working discussion.

He was anxious to gauge Wudaokou's stance on his tax policies. Several colleagues had mentioned in private correspondence that his proposals had sparked considerable controversy within the Executive Committee. The tax farming system had drawn particular censure, with some even calling for a formal investigation into his "ideological orientation."

Politics aside, Ai Zhixin cared most about Wudaokou's professional assessment. Expert opinion carried far more weight than amateur criticism.

The dishes prepared for transmigrators inevitably represented the kitchen's finest work. Cognizant that Transmigrator Wang had just disembarked with a delicate stomach, the chef had prepared only a few refreshing side dishes accompanied by a bowl of japonica rice porridge.

Yet Wang Qiyi's thoughts were elsewhere. Since boarding the ship, he'd been mentally rehearsing the arrangements he needed to discuss with Ai Zhixin.

Ai Zhixin had completed the high-level architecture of Guangzhou's Finance and Tax Bureau and tax system. Categories, rates, scope, even general collection methodologies had been established. Leveraging the naturalized cadres he'd recruited and the retained Ming clerks he'd absorbed, the Bureau's organizational framework nominally existed—though the machinery had yet to actually function. Wang Qiyi's task, therefore, was to operationalize these structures, to transform the Finance and Tax Bureau from blueprint to functional reality.

Additionally, he harbored concerns about Ai Zhixin's current arrangements. These weren't matters of hierarchy or precedence, but structural flaws in the Bureau's organization.

The blame couldn't reasonably fall on Ai Zhixin—it was all consequence of "institutional streamlining" necessitated by personnel shortages. One might call it "unavoidable," but Wang Qiyi believed such expedients should be minimized. Otherwise, explanations would prove difficult when facing future scrutiny. As a colleague, he felt duty-bound to raise the issue.

After they'd eaten their fill, Ai Zhixin and Wang Qiyi forgent an immediate return to the city proper, retiring instead to the adjacent lounge for a working discussion.

"Now that you're here, I can breathe easier." Ai Zhixin lit a cigar. "You can't imagine—these past months alone here were genuinely nerve-wracking. Care for one?"

"No, thank you." Wang Qiyi dispensed with formality and opened his portable notebook. "Shall I begin?"

"Please."

"Director Ai, I've reviewed all the plans and reports you forwarded to Lingao. I concur with your tax framework centered on property tax, turnover tax, and stamp duty. It effectively captures major revenue sources while accommodating our cadres' current skill levels. Regarding the poll tax, however, I must express reservations. This levy presents collection challenges. While I understand your intent to cultivate taxpaying consciousness, strict enforcement inevitably demands substantial manpower and resources, yielding poor input-output ratios. Lax enforcement, conversely, defeats the original purpose. Moreover, once

loopholes appear in direct taxation of this nature, immediate adverse social psychology follows. The old timeline's simplistic personal income tax suffered similar problems: the wealthy possessed countless avoidance mechanisms, while wage earners—whose incomes were most transparent and accessible—bore the burden. Consequently, the purported wealth redistribution function of 'income tax' became hollow rhetoric and a target for public criticism."

Ai Zhixin's expression soured—the "Head Tax" was his brainchild, and here was Wang Qiyi dismantling it upon arrival. Yet Ai Zhixin recognized that Wang Qiyi's position likely reflected Wudaokou's assessment, possibly even the State Council's. Besides, the critique was well-reasoned.

After a moment's consideration, he replied, "The poll tax remains open for discussion. It was merely a draft, intended to stimulate collective brainstorming."

Wang Qiyi nodded, continuing, "Regarding specific tax items and rates, Zhang Xiaoqi and I discussed these before my departure. The vast majority are highly appropriate. A few isolated areas merit further consideration—too granular for present discussion. I'll report separately as needed. As for your collection methodology, including the 'collect first, refund later' approach, Zhang Xiaoqi notes that enterprise income tax functioned this way in the old timeline. She supports experimenting with the concept now."

The Wang couple harbored numerous thoughts regarding Ai Zhixin's plan. His wife had articulated observations better left unspoken in public. However, Wang Qiyi saw no value in dwelling on minutiae—the State Council was eager to advance Guangzhou's fiscal and tax operations toward tangible results. No need to obsess over inconsequential details. Ai Zhixin's plan contained no fundamental errors, and leadership cohesion often determined an endeavor's ultimate success or failure. "Let me now address the implementation framework my wife and I developed..."

The Wangs' proposal held no surprises for Ai Zhixin. Task-oriented processes, comprehensive documentation, full audit trails, positional checks and balances—essentially transplanting old timeline tax procedures with judicious simplification and consolidation. Easy enough to describe, and Ai Zhixin could probably stumble through the basics with reference materials. But explaining the intricacies of a dozen-plus positions and over a hundred procedural links, then determining which could be streamlined based on naturalized citizens' capabilities—that exceeded his expertise entirely.

Given the technical specificity, Wang Qiyi had covered barely half by dinnertime. Ai Zhixin invoked the revolutionary maxim that health is capital and proposed returning to the Finance and Tax Bureau to settle in, dine, and rest. They'd resume tomorrow at the Bureau.

That evening, Wang Qiyi traveled by sedan chair to the Finance and Tax Bureau. Like many newly arrived transmigrators, he'd initially insisted on "walking into the city" to project an approachable image. But upon witnessing the chaos at the Great East Gate compound—rubble heaps everywhere, excavated sludge reeking to high heaven—he'd reconsidered.

Borne directly to the Finance and Tax Bureau, Wang Qiyi found the dormitory arrangements quite satisfactory—far more comfortable than Lingao's transmigrator-exclusive tube apartments. Comrade Ai Zhixin had been remarkably thoughtful. The bedroom featured a double bed with matching pillows. Anticipating potential visits from the Wang daughters, two guest rooms in the small courtyard had been specially renovated.

"And the cadres who accompanied me?"

"All accommodated," Ai Zhixin assured him. "The dormitories are newly renovated—sanitary, secure, and comfortable."

"Guangzhou's streetscape is quite something..."

"Hence Mayor Liu excavating everywhere. The costs are astronomical..." Ai Zhixin shook his head. "Fortunately, our non-tax fiscal revenue these first months proved substantial. The State Council allocated Liu Xiang a generous sum for urban infrastructure."