We asked you to make an anti-corruption film, but you made one in the name of the people!

After the commendation ceremony, Lin Mo's days suddenly slowed down.

In January, Beijing is still cold, but when the sun is shining, half of the desk in the office can be warmed by the sun.

Lin Mo arrives at work at nine o'clock every morning, makes a cup of tea, flips through the day's documents, and reads the propaganda bureau's work briefing; the morning is over in no time.

It's nothing serious.

"The Storm" has finished airing, but its popularity remains, although the promotional period is over.

Zhang Hao has fully mastered the work on "Police and People Working Together," and updates it steadily every week. Lin Mo only needs to occasionally watch the finished product and offer a few suggestions.

Han Jianu is still revising the script for "Dying to Survive". Wen Muye sends a message every few days to report on the progress, and Lin Mo replies with "No rush, take your time".

Once, Sun Jianguo passed by his office, peeked half his head in, and saw him staring blankly at the computer.

"Kobayashi, what are you busy with?"

Lin Mo snapped out of his reverie: "Nothing much, just looking at materials."

Sun Jianguo walked in, pulled up a chair, sat down, and looked him up and down: "Aren't you used to being idle?"

Lin Mo thought for a moment and nodded: "A little."

Sun Jianguo laughed: "You're just destined to be a workaholic. When you're busy, you complain about being tired, and when you're idle, you feel uncomfortable all over."

Lin Mo smiled, picked up his teacup, and took a sip.

"But it'll be soon." Sun Jianguo stood up, patted him on the shoulder, and said, "After the New Year, you'll be busy again. Take advantage of your free time now and rest well."

Lin Mo nodded.

As Sun Jianguo walked to the door, he turned back and said, "By the way, are you going home for the New Year?"

"Return."

"Have you bought the tickets?"

"I bought it. It's a high-speed train ticket, for the 28th of the twelfth lunar month."

"Okay, go back and spend some time with your parents. You haven't been back much this year."

Lin Mo hummed in agreement and watched Sun Jianguo leave.

The office fell silent again.

Lin Mo leaned back in his chair and suddenly remembered—at this time last year, he was still writing briefings in the Publicity Department of the Supreme People's Procuratorate.

A year has passed. I've filmed three movies, been promoted to deputy director, received an award for outstanding individual, and jumped from staff member to section chief.

It seems like I'm quite busy, but it also seems like nothing has changed.

He took out his phone and scrolled through his WeChat Moments.

Zhang Songwen posted a message saying he was filming a new drama in Hengdian, along with a photo from the set. He was wearing ancient costume and looked like a schoolteacher.

A bunch of people in the comments section are telling Boss Gao that he's changed careers.

Jin Chen posted a nine-grid photo collage, all of which were pictures of her on set of her new drama. She was wearing armor and riding a horse, looking very heroic. The comments section was full of people saying how cool the female general was.

Lin Mo gave each of them a thumbs up, put his phone on the table, and continued to stare blankly.

......

On the 28th day of the twelfth lunar month, Lin Mo got up very early.

His suitcase was packed last night. His mother called several times, repeatedly telling him not to bring anything, saying, "We have everything at home, you just need to bring one person back."

Lin Mo said "okay, okay" but still stuffed two boxes of Beijing specialties into his suitcase before leaving.

A box of Daoxiangcun pastries, and a box of Quanjude roast duck.

The high-speed rail station was packed with people.

The Spring Festival travel rush is the same every year.

Lin Mo dragged his suitcase through the crowd, found his seat by the window, put the suitcase in the overhead compartment, sat down, and took out his phone to send a message to his mother: "Mom, get on the train, we'll arrive at 2 PM."

Mom replied instantly: "Be careful on the road. Call your dad when you arrive, and he'll pick you up from the station."

Lin Mo replied with an "okay," put his phone in his pocket, leaned back in his chair, and looked out the window.

As the high-speed train started moving, the buildings outside the window began to recede into the distance, moving faster and faster.

He closed his eyes, his mind blank, not wanting to think about anything.

At 2 PM, the high-speed train arrived at the station on time.

Lin Mo dragged his suitcase out of the station exit and saw his father standing in the crowd from afar, wearing a dark blue cotton-padded jacket, his hair a little whiter than when he last came back.

He stood outside the railing, tiptoeing and peering towards the exit. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were very focused.

"Dad." Lin Mo walked over.

Old Lin turned his head, saw his son, looked him up and down, and said, "You've lost weight."

Lin Mo laughed: "You and my mom planned this together, right? That's always the first thing you say when we meet."

Old Lin didn't reply, but reached out and took the suitcase from Lin Mo's hand, then turned and walked towards the parking lot.

When they arrived home, Lin's mother had already been busy all morning.

There were six or seven dishes on the table.

Lin Mo changed into slippers and walked in. Lin's mother poked her head out from the kitchen, her apron covered in flour. She was stunned when she saw Lin Mo, and then her eyes reddened.

"Mom, I'm back," Lin Mo said.

Lin's mother didn't rush over to hug him, nor did she say anything like "I missed you so much." She just wiped her hands with her apron, walked over, looked him up and down, and said, "You've lost weight."

Lin Mo laughed out loud: "You're exactly like my dad."

Lin's mother ignored him, turned around and went back to the kitchen. She brought out the last dish, placed it on the table, and then called back, "Old Lin! Bring the food!"

Old Lin came over from the living room, and the family of three sat down.

Lin's mother put a piece of pork rib, a piece of fish, and a floret of broccoli on Lin Mo's plate, piling them up like a small mountain in the bowl.

"Mom, that's enough, that's enough, I can't eat that much."

"You have to eat, even if you can't." Lin's mother placed another piece of greens on the plate. "How can you get any nutrition eating takeout every day in Yanjing?"

Lin Mo glanced at his father, who was eating with his head down, his face expressionless, but his chopsticks reached over and put another piece of pork rib on his plate.

Lin Mo stopped talking and lowered his head to eat.

On New Year's Eve, the sound of firecrackers never stopped from morning. Lin Mo didn't get up until after eight o'clock. He changed into some old clothes and helped Old Lin put up Spring Festival couplets on the door. Old Lin held the paste while Lin Mo held up the couplets and gestured.

"Dad, is it crooked?"

"A little to the left, then a little more to the left, that's it."

Lin Mo pressed the couplet against the wall and smoothed it out with his hand.

The first line reads: "Good fortune shines upon the peaceful home."

The second line reads: Good fortune always graces a happy home.

The horizontal scroll reads "Welcoming the New Year".

Red paper with black characters, the smell of paste mixed with the smell of gunpowder, is a fixed smell every year during the Spring Festival.

Lin's mother was busy in the kitchen all day, and the humming of the range hood went on from morning to afternoon.

Lin Mo wanted to help, but his mother kicked him out.

"Go watch TV, don't get in the way."

Lin Mo had no choice but to sit on the sofa and watch TV with his father.

Around 4 p.m., Lin's mother started preparing the New Year's Eve dinner.

Lin Mo wasn't kicked out this time; his mother asked him to help peel garlic.

The mother and daughter stood in the kitchen, one stir-frying vegetables and the other peeling garlic, chatting casually.

Did your company give out gifts for the Chinese New Year?

"We received a box of apples, a box of oranges, and a bag of rice."

"Good apple, may you be safe and sound." Lin's mother ladled the stir-fried dish into a plate. "Your dad and I have watched that movie of yours several times."

Lin Mo paused in peeling garlic, then turned to look at the living room.

Old Lin sat on the sofa with the TV on, showing a pre-Spring Festival Gala program. His father watched it expressionlessly, as if he hadn't heard a word being said in the kitchen.

Lin Mo smiled and continued peeling garlic.

At six o'clock, the New Year's Eve dinner began.

The table was laden with dishes, including chicken, duck, fish, and meat.

Old Lin opened a bottle of Moutai—not the real Moutai, but one from a local distillery, costing only a few dozen yuan a bottle. But every time Old Lin drank it, it was like a tasting event; he would smell it, sip it, and nod, making it a very ceremonial affair.

"Son, let's have a drink." Old Lin picked up his glass.

Lin Mo picked up his glass, clinked it with his father's, and they both drank it down in one gulp.

Lin's mother was serving food to her, but she couldn't hold back her words: "Drink less. I know you have high blood pressure."

Old Lin ignored her and poured Lin Mo another cup.

As we ate and drank, it got dark.

The sound of firecrackers outside the window grew louder and louder, and occasionally fireworks exploded in the air, their colorful lights shining through the window.

The Spring Festival Gala still had that familiar feel: the opening song and dance, the colorful costumes, and dozens of people jumping around on stage. One skit after another, all with the same old jokes, but Lin's mother laughed uproariously at every one of them. Lin's father, however, got sleepy after watching for a while, leaned back on the sofa, squinted, and muttered that this year's show was even uglier than last year's.

But he kept the remote control in his hand the whole time, and no one was allowed to change the channel.

Lin Mo went to the balcony, took out his phone, and started sending New Year's greetings.

Lin Mo first called Prosecutor Zhao.

After three rings, Prosecutor Zhao answered, his voice unusually relaxed: "Xiao Lin, are you home?"

"I'm at home, Prosecutor Zhao. Happy New Year! Wishing you good health and success at work."

Zhao Jian laughed on the other end of the phone: "Okay, okay, you should rest at home for a few days. You've been busy all year, it's time to spend some time with your parents."

Lin Mo agreed, and Prosecutor Zhao added, "Please give my regards to your parents and say thank you for raising such a good son."

Lin Mo thanked Inspector Zhao and hung up.

I called Director Wang again. It was quite noisy on his end, sounding like a family dinner at home, with children's laughter and the clattering of mahjong tiles in the background.

"Xiao Lin! Happy New Year! Get some rest at home! There are still tough battles to fight next year!"

Lin Mo said, "Director Wang, don't worry, I'm ready at any time." Director Wang laughed heartily and said, "Good, I like your kind of energetic person."

When I called Lao Han again, he answered quickly, his voice low: "Hello, Xiao Lin."

Lin Mo said, "Director Han wishes you a Happy New Year." Old Han grunted in response, his tone still indifferent: "Stay home and enjoy the New Year. Don't go out unnecessarily. Bring back some local specialties when you come back."

Lin Mo smiled: "Director Han, what would you like to eat?"

Old Han thought for a moment and said, "The cured meat from your area is quite good."

Lin Mo said okay, I'll bring you two. Old Han nodded in satisfaction and hung up.

Then I called Sun Jianguo, called Lao Zhao, and sent WeChat messages to all my colleagues in the Publicity Department of the Supreme People's Procuratorate.

Xiao Wang replied instantly with a long string of emojis, all of them saying "Set off firecrackers" and "Wishing you prosperity."

Lin Mo sent a red envelope, which Xiao Wang immediately grabbed, and then exclaimed in surprise, "Brother Lin, you sent two hundred yuan!"

The Spring Festival Gala was still airing. In a crosstalk performance, two actors stood on the stage, taking turns saying lines, and the audience below was laughing so hard they were doubled over. Old Lin had already fallen asleep on the sofa, his snoring mingling with the sound of firecrackers outside the window.

Just as Lin Mo was about to put down his phone, Zhang Yixing called.

He answered the phone, and Zhang Yixing's voice was as warm as ever: "Director Lin! Happy New Year! I wish you a Happy New Year!"

The background noise on his end was the television and the laughter of several children. Someone called him to eat something, and he turned around to answer, then turned back to his phone and said, "Director Lin, if you have a new film next year, don't forget me. I've got my schedule open!"

Lin Mo laughed: "Okay, we'll find you a suitable role. You should have a good New Year at home, eat more, you've lost a lot of weight while filming."

Zhang Yixing chuckled and said something that surprised Lin Mo: "Director Lin, thank you. Before filming 'All or Nothing,' people said I was a singer and dancer and couldn't act in serious dramas. After filming, no one said that anymore. With this movie, you not only saved the audience, but you also saved me."

"That's because you proved yourself."

Zhang Yixing had just hung up the phone when Lao Zhao called.

"Director Lin! Happy New Year! I wish you a Happy New Year! Have you eaten at home?" Old Zhao was making a lot of noise on his end; it sounded like he was on the road, so he had to shout to get to his mouth.

Lin Mo asked him why he was still out so late. Old Zhao said he had just finished eating and was on his way home. He added, "Director Lin, this year I've worked with you, and it's been the most enjoyable year of filming in my life. No fuss, no rework, no arguments. You just set everything up and I just had to follow it."

Lin Mo said, "Brother Zhao, you've worked hard too. Without you, I couldn't have filmed it all by myself."

Old Zhao chuckled and asked again, "Director Lin, what are we filming next year? I'd like to free up my schedule in advance."

"OK."

Old Zhao shouted "Happy New Year" again and then hung up.

Lin Mo had just put down his phone when it rang again—Jin Chen.

Jin Chen's voice was light and cheerful: "Happy New Year, Director Lin! I wish you good health, all the best, and smooth filming in the new year."

Lin Mo smiled and said, "Happy New Year to you too. Take a good rest at home. Don't push yourself too hard in that drama about the female general."

Jin Chen laughed and said, "Director Lin, how do you know everything?" Then she added, "Director Lin, if you're making a new movie next year, could you save me a role? It doesn't have to be the lead, just a supporting role will do."

Lin Mo said okay, he'd contact you if he found someone suitable.

Jin Chen happily thanked Director Lin and hung up.

For the next half hour or so, Lin Mo's phone kept ringing.

Wu Gang, Zhang Zhijian, Hou Yong, Xu Yajun, Wang Chuanjun, Sun Yang, Yong Mei... all the actors from the three drama groups of "In the Name of the People", "All or Nothing", and "The Storm" sent messages.

Some sent blessings, some sent voice messages, and some sent red envelopes directly.

Lin Mo replied to each one one by one, until his hands ached by the end.

Zhang Hao and Wu Erwo's New Year's greetings were the simplest and most direct: they sent a video—the two of them, wearing red down jackets, stood on a street in Siping, each holding a string of candied hawthorns, and shouted at the camera: "Happy New Year, Director Lin! You've worked hard this year! Let's keep it up next year! Let's do something big!"

Finally, there's Han Sanping—he sent a voice message with the clattering of a mahjong table in the background: "Director Lin, Happy New Year! Have a good holiday at home. Come back after the New Year, and we'll talk business."