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

Zhao Deming, cash, 200,000 yuan.

Chen Ping pressed his thumb on the line of text without turning the page. The ink was bluish-black, the handwriting messy but clear, each stroke carrying the writer's impatience.

Old Qian squatted on the chair opposite the desk, with his hands on his knees.

"There's more to come."

Chen Ping turned to the second page. The third page. The fourth page.

The names, dates, and amounts were listed one by one, the largest being 500,000 yuan and the smallest being 30,000 yuan. The recipients weren't just Zhao Deming; there were also seven or eight names from the approval department, finance bureau, and logistics support center.

How did you get this notebook?

Old Qian rubbed his hands together.

"After Zhou Hai got drunk last time, he searched the entire work shed the next day when he sobered up but couldn't find it. He thought he had left it in the car. Actually, I put it under the bedding."

"Why keep it?"

"They haven't paid us the wages they owe us. I figured if I had something on hand, I wouldn't be left empty-handed if things got out of hand someday."

Chen Ping closed the ledger, put it in the drawer, and locked it.

"Old Qian, I'll take this notebook. We might need you to cooperate with the disciplinary committee by giving a statement later. Are you willing?"

"I'm willing." Old Qian stood up, the cigarette pack in his pocket creaking. "Secretary Chen, I only have one request—don't let Zhou Hai know it was me. That man holds grudges."

"No. Only Han Zhiming and I know that you came to the management committee tonight. Go out the back door from here, and Han Zhiming will take you."

Old Qian nodded and followed Han Zhiming downstairs through the fire escape.

The office fell silent again. Chen Ping gripped the drawer key in his hand, pulled out his phone, and found a number.

Fang Weidong, member of the Standing Committee of the Discipline Inspection Commission of Qingjiang City and director of the Third Discipline Inspection and Supervision Office.

On the contact list provided by the Organization Department before their departure, this name was circled in red. The Provincial Commission for Discipline Inspection had already given instructions—the leads from the High-tech Zone should be directly addressed to Fang Weidong, bypassing the Municipal Party Committee Office.

The phone rang three times before being answered.

"Director Fang, I am Chen Pingfang, Secretary of the Party Working Committee of the High-tech Zone."

"Secretary Chen, is it urgent that you're calling at this hour?"

"There is physical evidence involving bribery by members of the management committee, which needs to be handed over in person."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone.

Where are you?

"The management committee's office on the fourth floor."

"Don't move, I'm bringing men over. Forty minutes."

After hanging up the phone, Chen Ping took the ledger out of the drawer, photographed each page with his phone, and sent the photos to his encrypted email address for backup. Afterward, he locked the ledger back into the drawer.

Forty-two minutes later, a black Buick minivan drove into the management committee parking lot without its lights on.

Fang Weidong was in his early fifties, with a buzz cut and wearing a jacket, walking with a brisk pace. Behind him were two young men, one carrying a briefcase and the other a sealed bag.

Chen Ping left the people he was picking up downstairs, and the four of them went up to the fourth floor along the fire escape.

The office door was tightly closed. Chen Ping laid out all the documents on the table: the account books, Lao Qian's witness information, copies of the payment vouchers for the scenic corridor, and the records of the management committee's official seal usage this afternoon.

After Fang Weidong finished flipping through the account book, he looked up and glanced at Chen Pingfang.

"Have you verified the authenticity of this notebook?"

"The third entry in the ledger is about Liu Guodong from the Approval Department, with 80,000 yuan in cash. I have suspended Liu Guodong from his duties for procedural violations. The landscape corridor acceptance form he handled is suspected of serious falsification, and it perfectly matches the timeline recorded in the ledger."

Fang Weidong handed the ledger to the young man behind him, put it into a sealed bag, and labeled it with a number.

"What is Zhao Deming's current condition?"

"At the meeting this afternoon to adjust the division of responsibilities, his financial and approval powers have been stripped away. He is currently in charge of historical issues, but in reality, he is in a semi-functional state."

Is it possible that he noticed you were collecting evidence?

Chen Ping thought about it.

"He knew I was investigating the scenic corridor, but he didn't know I had obtained the slush fund. However, tonight when I went to Huaxing New Materials and later to the main road to deal with the workers demanding unpaid wages, he kept an eye on me from his office on the third floor the whole time. This person is extremely vigilant; the longer it drags on, the greater the probability that he will destroy the evidence."

Fang Weidong stood up and zipped up his jacket.

"I'll go back and file a case. The preliminary investigation procedures will be completed by tomorrow morning."

He stopped at the door.

"Secretary Chen, Zhao Deming has been operating in the management committee for eleven years, and his influence is considerable. Be prepared, the next few days will be very difficult."

"I know."

Fang Weidong and his men left through the fire escape. The Buick minivan drove out of the parking lot along the same route, without its lights on the entire time.

Chen Ping returned to his office and put all the documents on his desk into the safe. The clock struck 2:17 a.m.

He had been lying on the folding bed for less than four hours when his phone alarm woke him up.

At 6:40 a.m., Han Zhiming pushed open the door and came in, carrying two cups of instant coffee.

"Director, the provincial research team's convoy has already departed from the city and is expected to arrive at nine o'clock. The main roads are clear and there are no abnormalities."

Where is Zhao Deming?

I arrived at the office at seven o'clock, an hour and a half earlier than usual.

Chen Ping took the coffee but didn't drink it.

An hour and a half earlier than usual. Zhao Deming sensed something.

At 8:45 a.m., everything was ready at the management committee building. The provincial research team's convoy arrived on time at the end of the main road, and three black Coaster buses drove into the park one after another.

Chen Pingfang stood at the entrance of the management committee to greet them, shook hands with the head of the research team, and led the group into the conference room.

Zhao Deming sat in the second row of the conference table, his posture upright, holding a pen in his hand.

The entire presentation lasted an hour and a half. Chen Ping talked about the industrial plan, the target material production line, and Huaxing New Materials' commitment to retaining employees. Zhao Deming didn't interrupt at all, occasionally glancing down to write a few words in his notebook.

It was nearly noon when the research team left the management committee. Chen Ping dropped them off at the park's main gate and then walked back towards the building.

Reaching the corner on the third floor, I could see through the glass window of the fire door that Zhao Deming's office door was tightly closed.

The hum of a paper shredder could be heard coming from under the door.

Chen Ping didn't stop and went straight to the fourth floor. He took out his phone and dialed Fang Weidong's number.

"Director Fang, he's destroying things."

"I know. They're already on their way."

Twelve minutes later, two unmarked bread trucks drove into the management committee's parking lot.

Eight people got off the bus, dressed in plain clothes and holding work badges. The one in the lead was Fang Weidong, who had changed his jacket into a dark suit and wore a badge of the Discipline Inspection Commission on his chest.

The shredder was still running.

Fang Weidong led four people up to the third floor and knocked on the door.

The door was closed.

"Comrade Zhao Deming, this is the Third Discipline Inspection and Supervision Office of the Qingjiang Municipal Commission for Discipline Inspection. Please open the door and cooperate with the investigation."

The paper shredder suddenly stopped.

Three seconds later, the door lock clicked. Zhao Deming opened the door, rolled up his sleeves to his forearms, and a Patek Philippe watch on his left wrist flashed under the corridor light.

Fang Weidong's gaze fell on the watch, pausing for a moment.

"Comrade Zhao Deming, based on the preliminary investigation results, the Municipal Commission for Discipline Inspection has decided to initiate an investigation into your suspected serious violations of discipline and law. Please come with us."

Zhao Deming's Adam's apple bobbed. He turned his head and glanced at the desk. Next to the shredder, there was a half-stack of documents that hadn't been put in yet, with the top one bearing the header "Datong Construction".

There was an open drawer on the table, containing two watch boxes, one empty and the other containing another watch.

The staff behind Fang Weidong had already put on gloves and carried evidence bags into the office.

When Zhao Deming was led out of the management committee building, there was no one in the corridor. Han Zhiming had cleared the area beforehand, and all staff members were told to wait in their respective offices.

The bread truck door closed, and the engine started.

Chen Ping stood behind the fourth-floor window, watching two bread trucks drive out of the parking lot.

My phone vibrated again. It was a message from Han Zhiming.

"The Economic Crime Investigation Division has apprehended Zhou Hai and taken him away from the Datong Construction office."

Chen Ping turned off his phone screen and turned back to his desk.

A document lay open on the table, its cover bearing the title "Three-Year Action Plan for Industrial Development in Qingjiang High-tech Zone." He picked up the official seal, aligned it with the red border at the bottom, and stamped it firmly.

The inkpad was bright red. The morning light streamed in through the window, illuminating the first line of text on the document.