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

Before the sound of footsteps on the stone pavement had faded, Jiang Fan took half a step behind.

"Director, the car is at the East Gate."

Chen Ping didn't turn around, but turned onto the steps of the east gate, opened the car door, and sat in the back seat.

"Back to the High-tech Zone."

Jiang Fan turned the car around and drove out of the municipal party committee compound. In the rearview mirror, the gray-white office building receded into the shadows of the trees and disappeared from sight.

Chen Ping took out his phone and dialed the number for the management committee office.

The phone rang twice, and someone answered.

"Notify all middle-level and above managers that a meeting will be held at 5:30 PM in the large conference room on the third floor. Anyone who is late will have to submit a written self-criticism."

The person on the other end paused for a moment.

"Director, several department heads have requested leave this afternoon..."

"Leave request withdrawn, everyone present."

It's over.

Jiang Fan glanced at the rearview mirror.

Chen Ping didn't say anything, but took out a stack of printing materials from his briefcase. The A4 paper was clipped with binder clips and the corners were folded several times.

This document was forwarded by Zhao Deshan last week and was found by the Discipline Inspection Commission during their investigation of Sun Zhaohui—the personnel adjustment ledger of the High-tech Zone Management Committee for the past eighteen months.

Over a period of eighteen months, Sun Zhaohui used his deputy director's approval authority to make eleven sudden job changes within the management committee.

The deputy director of the Investment Promotion Division II was replaced by a staff member who had been on the payroll for less than two years. The key personnel of the Industrial Planning Division were transferred to the Logistics Support Division. The three consecutive heads of the Financial Audit position served for no more than six months each.

Every adjustment has a common feature—the original person in the position just happened to raise objections at a sensitive point, or refused to sign a certain document.

Chen Ping closed the curtain, his thumb lingering on the binder clip for two seconds.

Cleaning is necessary and cannot be delayed.

At 5:28, all the fluorescent lights in the large conference room on the third floor were on, and twenty-three people were sitting on both sides of the long table.

Several people, their faces pale, kept adjusting their posture while sitting in their chairs. Others were looking down at their phones, their fingers flying across the screen, trying to gather information in small group chats.

The news of Sun Zhaohui being taken away by the Provincial Commission for Discipline Inspection circulated throughout the management committee for an entire day. Adding to this, the news that Wang Cheng was placed under investigation at today's Standing Committee meeting had already leaked from the Municipal Party Committee, creating an inexplicable sense of unease throughout the building.

At 5:30, Chen Pingfang entered through the side door.

Without any pleasantries or opening remarks, I walked to the head of the table, stood down, and slammed the stack of A4 papers onto the table.

"I'll only talk about one thing today."

All twenty-three eyes were raised.

"Sun Zhaohui's problem is being investigated by the Provincial Commission for Discipline Inspection, which is not under our jurisdiction. But the mess he left behind in the Management Committee is under our responsibility."

Chen Ping opened the binder clip, pulled out the first page, and placed it face down on the table.

"In the past eighteen months, there have been eleven personnel changes within the Management Committee, all of which were approved by Sun Zhaohui, bypassing the collective discussion process of the Director's Office Meeting."

Someone below withdrew their hand from the table.

"I'm not investigating who's close to Sun Zhaohui; that's the disciplinary committee's job. I only look at one thing: whether your professional competence is enough to support you in your position."

Chen Ping turned to the second page.

"Qian Zhihao, Deputy Director of the Second Investment Promotion Division."

In the third row by the window, a man in his early thirties leaned back half an inch.

"From last October to today, I have handled seven investment projects, and the implementation rate is zero. In the preliminary evaluation reports of the seven projects, three of the financial models even calculated the discount rate incorrectly."

Qian Zhihao's Adam's apple bobbed.

"Director Chen, the market environment for those projects is indeed..."

I didn't ask you why.

Chen Ping turned the page over.

"Ma Wenbin, deputy head of the Industrial Planning Section. In the semiconductor supporting enterprise evaluation list submitted last quarter, a plastic packaging company was included in the 'core supply chain' list. The review comments stated that 'the product has broad applicability'."

In the corner, a bespectacled man lowered his head, almost burying it in the table.

"And there's the financial audit position." Chen Ping pulled out the third page. "Three people have been in charge in eighteen months. The first one raised objections and was transferred, the second one signed off on a transfer to logistics, and the third one just arrived and didn't even know which way his office door faced."

"The auditing position was practically non-existent. Three hundred million yuan of government-managed funds flowed out of this building, and no one in the process of handling it stopped it."

The meeting room fell completely silent.

The air conditioner vents were humming, and sweat was seeping from someone's forehead.

Chen Ping stacked the three pages neatly and pushed them forward half a step.

"Qian Zhihao, Ma Wenbin, and Chen Xiaodong from the Logistics Support Department, the three of you should go to the Organization and Personnel Department before next Monday to complete the procedures and be transferred to grassroots positions in the street office."

Qian Zhihao suddenly stood up.

"Director Chen! I was appointed through normal procedures; there are official documents from the organization."

"The document was signed by Sun Zhaohui." Chen Ping glanced at him. "If you want to use Sun Zhaohui's signature as a shield, I won't stop you, but that signature is currently in the provincial discipline inspection commission's evidence bag."

Qian Zhihao stood there, opened his mouth slightly, but nothing came out, and slowly sat back down.

Chen Ping turned to the entire conference room.

"Starting today, the Management Committee will implement two systems: performance-based adjustments for all staff, with quarterly assessments and direct reassignment for those ranking last for two consecutive quarters; and a retrospective audit of major projects, verifying each payment record exceeding five million over the past two years."

Chen Ping put the materials back into his briefcase and zipped it up.

"The production capacity target for Phase II of Chipfire is 10 billion yuan. Everyone sitting in this building either needs to be able to support this number or make room for someone who can."

Meeting adjourned.

The sound of chair legs scraping against the floor echoed throughout the hall. Twenty-three people filed out, no one whispering, only the sound of footsteps and the occasional cough in the corridor.

Chen Ping remained standing in the main seat until everyone had left, then picked up his briefcase and headed to his office.

Jiang Fan followed behind, and when they reached the office door, he lowered his voice.

"Director, He Zhicheng has been standing in the corridor for ten minutes, saying he wants to see you."

Chen Ping paused for a moment.

He Zhicheng is the director of the management committee office. Last winter, the copper pipes of the air conditioner in Chen Pingfang's office were cut, and the pipes froze for three whole days. Later, Jiang Fan found out that He Zhicheng had arranged for the logistics department to tamper with it. Chen Pingfang didn't make a fuss at the time and kept the matter to himself.

"Let him in."

Chen Ping pushed open the office door, walked to the window and stood there without sitting down.

He Zhicheng came from the other end of the corridor, his steps hesitant and dragging. When he pushed the door open, the doorknob creaked as he gripped it.

Upon entering, he didn't head towards the sofa but stood directly in front of the desk, his legs ramrod straight, though his knees trembled slightly inside his trousers.

Chen Ping turned his back to him and looked out the window.

He Zhicheng pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his suit, held it with both hands, and took a half step forward.

"Director Chen, this... I'll explain myself."

Chen Ping did not turn around.

"Explain what?"

He Zhicheng placed the envelope on the edge of the table and took a step back.

"There is a hidden debt in the High-tech Zone that has not been recorded in the financial system. When Sun Zhaohui was in office, he made verbal guarantees to three local companies in the name of the Management Committee, totaling 103 million yuan. I printed the guarantee letter and affixed the official seal."

Chen Ping turned around.

He Zhicheng's legs trembled from his knees to his ankles, and the soles of his leather shoes made a soft, scraping sound on the floor.

"The Finance Bureau is unaware of this debt, and the Audit Bureau cannot find it because it is all recorded offline."

The envelope rested on the edge of the table, unsealed, with the corners of a few pages peeking out.

Chen Ping walked over, picked up the envelope, pulled out the pages, and scanned them from beginning to end.

The three copies of the guarantee letter were all stamped with the official seal of the management committee and signed by He Zhicheng, the person in charge of handling the matter.

The amounts are 42 million, 35 million, and 26 million respectively.

Chen Ping put the paper back on the table and looked up at He Zhicheng.

He Zhicheng's knees shook even more violently, and he shrunk by half an inch.

One hundred and three million.

Chen Ping pressed his index finger against the official seal on the guarantee letter and began to speak, word by word.

"He Zhicheng, you've used the credit of this building to pave the way for Sun Zhaohui's coffin."

He Zhicheng's legs went weak, and he knelt down on the floor with a "thump".

Chen Ping looked down at He Zhicheng, his right hand still pressing on the red imprint of the official seal.