After breaking up with my boyfriend, I made a fortune and rose rapidly in my career.

"Secretary Chen, Secretary Wang would like to invite you to sit in his office."

Chen Ping zipped up his briefcase and looked up.

The messenger was Wang Cheng's secretary, a man in his early thirties who stood ramrod straight with his hands hanging down by his sides.

"Please thank Secretary Wang for me." Chen Ping pushed his chair back under the table. "My schedule is full today; I'll visit you another day."

The secretary opened her mouth slightly, then closed it again.

"Then I'll go back and deliver the message."

The footsteps faded away down the corridor and disappeared around the corner.

Chen Ping carried his briefcase downstairs, where Jiang Fan was already waiting by the car.

"Go to the High-tech Zone."

The car drove out of the municipal party committee compound and turned onto the ring expressway. Jiang Fan, sitting in the passenger seat, turned around and handed her a bottle of water.

"Director, the management committee has made arrangements. The office is on the fourth floor."

"Who arranged this?"

"The office director's surname is He. He Zhicheng."

Chen Ping unscrewed the bottle cap, took a sip, and didn't ask any more questions.

Forty minutes later, the car stopped in front of the High-tech Zone Management Committee building.

The eight-story glass curtain wall building has two rows of green plants on either side of the main entrance, their leaves covered in a layer of dust. The electronic screen at the entrance scrolls the investment data for the high-tech zone; last year's figures haven't been updated yet.

Jiang Fan got out of the car first and opened the back door.

Zhao Guangming, deputy director of the management committee, came up to greet them with three people. Zhao Guangming was in his early fifties, with thinning hair, a smile on his face, and he rubbed his hands together alternately.

"Secretary Chen! Welcome, welcome! We've been looking forward to this for days."

Chen Ping shook hands with him.

"Director Zhao, you're too kind. Where is your office?"

"The fourth floor has been specially prepared by Director He. Please come with me."

The elevator went up to the fourth floor, then turned right in the corridor and walked all the way to the back.

Zhao Guangming stopped in front of a door and pushed it open.

Chen Ping stood at the door and didn't go in.

The office was less than 20 square meters, with a north-facing window overlooking an office building under construction. The scaffolding blocked out all the light. A fluorescent light tube was on inside, humming softly, one end of which was already blackened, flickering between light and shadow.

The table was old, with a deep scratch on the surface. The chair was also old, the leather on the armrests peeling. Two boxes of printing paper, covered in dust, were piled in the corner.

The space where the air conditioner outdoor unit is located is empty, with only a few exposed copper pipes remaining.

Jiang Fan's face fell.

Zhao Guangming quickly spoke up.

"Secretary Chen, I'm so sorry. The large, south-facing office we originally prepared for you was on the third floor, but the air conditioner broke down yesterday. The repairman said the parts would have to be shipped from the provincial capital, and it would take at least a week. Director He was worried you'd be too hot, so he moved you to this office temporarily."

Chen Ping glanced at the floor fan in the corner; the power cord wasn't plugged in.

"Where is He Zhicheng?"

"Director He... took the day off today. He said it was gastroenteritis."

Chen Pingfang placed his briefcase on the old table. Jiang Fan followed him in, bent down to examine the broken end of the air conditioner's copper pipe, straightened up, and whispered in Chen Pingfang's ear.

"Director, the copper pipe is freshly cut, and the cross-section is shiny."

Chen Ping did not respond.

He left the office and closed the door behind him.

Zhao Guangming was still standing in the corridor, his hands folded in front of his stomach, waiting for him to lose his temper.

Chen Ping didn't get angry.

"Director Zhao, on which floor are the offices of the management committee's leadership team located?"

"Third floor."

"Let's go take a look."

The corridor on the third floor was twice as wide as that on the fourth floor, and the floor was waxed and reflective. The doors on both sides were arranged in order: Deputy Director's Office, Discipline Inspection Team Leader's Office, and Office Director's Office. Every door was closed, and the air conditioner outdoor units were humming.

Chen Ping walked to the door of the innermost room and reached out to touch the air vent above the door frame.

A cold wind was blowing out.

He turned around.

Zhao Guangming's smile froze on his face.

"Director Zhao, please inform everyone that starting today, all air conditioners on the third floor will be turned off. All members of the leadership team will move to the temporary office on the fourth floor and work in shifts. Once the air conditioner in my office is repaired, everyone will move back."

Zhao Guangming opened his mouth twice.

"Secretary Chen, there are other colleagues working on the third floor..."

"My office air conditioner is broken, but I can work on the construction site. The leadership team's air conditioner is fine; they can tolerate it even when it's turned off."

Chen Ping walked towards the elevator.

"I'm going to the second phase construction site. Jiang Fan, move the laptop and that box of files to the car."

Jiang Fan responded and turned to run to the fourth floor.

Zhao Guangming stood in the middle of the third-floor corridor, his two legs rooted to the ground. Behind him, several office doors were simultaneously cracked open, and several pairs of eyes peered out through the cracks.

When the car arrived at the second phase construction site, the afternoon sun was blazing.

There was a folding table in the temporary prefabricated house at the construction site. Jiang Fan put his laptop on it and then moved a box of files from the car.

Chen Ping sat on the plastic stool and opened the first file.

He had Jiang Fan retrieve these files from the management committee's finance office last night. They contained forty-seven volumes detailing major expenditures of the High-tech Zone over the past three years.

The first twenty books were fine; every expenditure matched the approval form and acceptance report.

Starting with the twenty-first book, the pace changed.

Chen Ping turned to a blue tab and stopped.

"Industry guidance fund".

On paper, the fund's total size is 320 million yuan. The funding comes from provincial government appropriations plus matching funds from the municipal government. The stated purpose is very vague—supporting technological upgrading and industrial transformation of key enterprises in the high-tech zone.

There is only one disbursement record: 320 million yuan, transferred in one lump sum to a company called "Dingsheng Venture Capital".

The transfer date was July of last year.

Yan Qinghua's incident occurred in March of this year.

This money was transferred away eight months before Yan Qinghua's downfall.

Chen Ping turned to the next page to find the business registration information for Dingsheng Venture Capital.

No.

The file contained only a transfer voucher, stamped with the management committee's financial seal and a hastily written signature. The signature was illegible, but Chen Ping had seen the handwriting style in previous documents.

Sun Zhaohui.

Jiang Fan brought over a glass of cold water, but Chen Ping didn't take it.

"Please help me investigate Dingsheng Venture Capital. Check its registered address, legal representative, shareholder structure, and actual business address—everything."

Jiang Fan took notes and glanced up at him.

"Director, this number..."

"Three hundred million." Chen Ping closed the file. "That's enough to repair a hundred air conditioners."

Jiang Fan didn't dare to respond and turned to leave the prefab house.

Chen Ping locked the files in a box, picked it up, and walked out of the prefab house. A pile driver was operating on the construction site, the vibrations traveling from his feet to his knees.

He walked west along the construction site fence to check the progress of the second phase of foundation construction. When he reached the corner of the third section, he parked his car outside the fence and leaned against the car door to make a phone call.

A person stood in front of the car.

He was around sixty years old, wearing gray overalls with cement splattered on his trousers, and a hard hat tucked under his arm. The old man was extremely thin, his cheekbones stretching his face into two triangles, but his back was very straight.

Jiang Fan hung up the phone and rushed over.

"What are you doing? This is the boss's car!"

The old man didn't move.

"I'm looking for Secretary Chen."

Chen Ping walked over.

"That's me."

The old man sized him up and down, then pulled a brown paper envelope from the chest pocket of his work clothes. The envelope was crumpled, the edges soaked with sweat, and its color was dark.

"Secretary Chen, my name is Zheng Shouzhen. I've worked at the incubator in the High-tech Zone for twelve years."

Chen Ping took the envelope.

The seal wasn't properly closed; a piece of paper, folded into thirds, was tucked inside. Chen Ping pulled it out and unfolded it; a dark red handprint was pressed against the lower right corner of the paper.

A letter written in blood.

The content was short, the handwriting was neat, and every stroke was written with effort.

"Buildings A and B of the core incubator in the High-tech Zone, totaling 16,000 square meters, were forcibly occupied by three companies starting in 2022. These three companies had no actual operations, no technical team, and no product output. The original seventeen small and medium-sized technology enterprises in the incubator were forced to relocate, their equipment was damaged, and no one has taken any action to this day."

Signed by: Zheng Shouzhen, former Operations and Maintenance Supervisor of the High-tech Zone Incubator.

Chen Ping folded the blood-written letter and put it back in the envelope.

Zheng Shouzhen stared at him, his arms hanging at his sides, his ten fingers opening and closing incessantly.

"Secretary Chen, the legal representatives of those three shell companies are all the same person."

Chen Ping raised his head.

"Who?"

Zheng Shouzhen's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, his chapped lips moved, and he uttered two words.

"Sun Zhaohui's wife."