Handong: Sha Li wants political achievements? I'll shut down the entire province.

The night rain in Handong was dense and chilly.

"Crunch... crunch."

The windshield wipers on my broken Jetta have worn-out rubber strips, and they make a screeching sound when they wipe the glass.

The water can't be scraped clean at all.

The glass was covered with fan-shaped marks resembling mud and water.

In the driver's seat, the man wore a greasy baseball cap with the brim pulled down so low that it almost covered half of his face.

The meter flashed red and emitted a short beep.

He stared at the number, his eyelids blinking numbly.

Half of his chin was reflected in the rearview mirror, with stubble sticking out of his skin, looking as messy as a rusty steel wool ball.

His name is Li Jianguo.

This is the name on the fake ID card hidden in the passenger side sun visor.

But his original name was Hou Liangping.

The fire at the train station didn't completely burn him to ashes.

He choked on some swill in the stinking sewer in the backyard of the morgue, but miraculously survived.

He's still alive, but he's no longer a person in this world.

Yan Qingfeng's all-pervasive holographic system completely erased the name "Hou Liangping".

Without a file, without a credit score, they can't even open a basic digital account.

He got caught in the rain the night before last, and his throat was so swollen that swallowing saliva felt like swallowing razor blades.

I tried to buy the cheapest cold medicine from a legitimate pharmacy, but the code wouldn't scan, and the alarm went off immediately.

Like a mouse being targeted by a cat, he scrambled into a dark alley, drank half a pot of raw water, and managed to get through it.

The carriage reeked of the stench of cheap rubber floor mats mixed with gasoline.

Hou Liangping rubbed his frozen fingers.

My fingertips are covered with rough calluses from holding the steering wheel for the past few months.

"Squeak—"

The car stopped abruptly under the streetlights at the back entrance of Lingxiao Building.

The dark gold Lingxiao logo hung in mid-air, its light piercing through the rain and stinging Hou Liangping's eyes.

The rear door was yanked open.

A gust of cold wind, mixed with rain, rushed into the carriage.

Following that was a strong aroma of Moutai liquor, mixed with a hint of sweet men's cologne.

"The last four digits... hiccup, the last four digits are 7788."

A young man got on the bus and plopped down on the back seat, the leather seat creaking under his weight.

He loosened his suit tie and patted the back of the seat in front of him with disdain.

"Let's go to Dynasty KTV. Hey driver, where did you pull this old junkyard from?!"

Hou Liangping remained silent.

He pressed the clutch with his foot and pushed the gear lever into first gear with his right hand. The car shook twice and slid forward.

He slightly raised his chin, his eyes quickly glancing at the rearview mirror.

I only glanced at it.

Hou Liangping's breath suddenly caught in his throat, and his stomach spasmed.

The acidic fluid rushed up my esophagus, burning my throat and making it taste bitter.

He knew that oily, flushed face in the back seat all too well.

Zhang Hao.

Two years ago, in the Anti-Corruption Bureau, this guy was an archives clerk in the district finance bureau.

When he was called into the interrogation room for questioning, he was so scared that his legs trembled, and he ended up wetting his pants and writing a confession while crying and begging for forgiveness.

But now?

Zhang Hao was wearing a well-tailored Armani suit, and the green Rolex on his wrist was so dazzling it made people dizzy.

A shiny metal name tag was pinned to the front pocket of his suit jacket.

The words "Lingxiao Consortium, Head of Marketing Department Three" were clearly printed on it.

Hou Liangping clenched his back teeth tightly.

The muscles in his cheeks twitched and jumped.

He slammed on the gas, and the beat-up Jetta's engine emitted a screeching, leaky roar.

"Hey? Old Liu! I'm here, just got in the car."

Zhang Hao leaned back in the back seat, a Bluetooth headset hanging in his ear, his voice so loud it was deafening.

He let out a loud burp and swiped his phone screen with his finger.

"Hey, don't even mention it. The roads were bad tonight, and I took a beat-up gas car. It was so bumpy it gave me a stomachache."

Hou Liangping's fingers tightened suddenly on the steering wheel.

His fingernails dug deep into the cheap plastic cover of the steering wheel.

The fingertips turned a deathly bluish-white from excessive force.

"Right, right, keep those girls. Don't let anyone snatch them up!"

Zhang Hao adjusted his posture in the back seat, crossed his legs, and almost kicked Hou Liangping's elbow with the tip of his leather shoe.

His tone was excited, with a hint of drunken arrogance.

"Let me tell you, today... today I'm blessed by the God of Wealth!"

The screen's glow illuminated Zhang Hao's smug face.

"Huh? You're asking about the quarterly bonus?"

Zhang Hao burst into laughter, slapping his thighs repeatedly.

"Damn it, guess how much Master Yan made this time?"

He lowered his voice, but his boastfulness was impossible to hide.

"I'm not bragging, but those stingy old fogies in the old system, who talked about dedication all the time, couldn't even get a fraction of this in ten years!"

Hou Liangping felt as if a sledgehammer had struck his chest.

Even breathing became difficult.

"Yes! Two hundred thousand! Two hundred thousand points available now!"

Zhang Hao slapped his thigh, spitting saliva onto the back of the driver's seat.

"This is just one quarter's base salary plus bonuses! Not even counting... not counting anything else."

He stammered, then quickly tried to correct himself.

"My mom had heart bypass surgery last month, and Lingxiao Holographic Hospital did it for free, fully reimbursed! I didn't have to pay a single penny!"

The car windows fogged up, turning everything into a white blur.

Hou Liangping grabbed the tattered towel with black oil stains from the dashboard and wiped it haphazardly on the windshield.

My vision cleared up a bit, but the world in front of me became increasingly blurry.

He used to be a section chief.

How much is a fixed salary all year round?

For the sake of that so-called bottom line, he suffered endless scorn in Beijing, and his wife complained about him every day.

Now, there's Zhang Hao, the spineless coward who wouldn't even dare to fart back then.

After joining Lingxiao, he lived a more human life than him, and was even able to treat his mother's illness.

What exactly is justice?

Should they hold onto that secure job that starves people, or should they, like Yan Qingfeng, use money to subdue the common people?

Hou Liangping's Adam's apple bobbed up and down with difficulty.

My mouth felt as dry as if I had swallowed a handful of sand.

"Alright, enough talk. Get me the biggest private room, and bring all the most expensive drinks!"

Zhang Hao shouted at the top of his lungs from behind.

He tossed his phone onto the seat next to him.

"Damn it, Boss Yan gave out quarterly bonuses again! Let's go to the best place in Handong, I'll pay for everything tonight!"

The traffic light ahead suddenly turned red.

Hou Liangping's eyes darkened, and he slammed on the brakes with his right foot.

The tires screeched as they slid across the flooded road.

"Holy crap!"

Caught off guard, Zhang Hao fell forward.

My forehead almost hit the headrest of the front seat, and my phone slid right into the gap in the floor mat.

"Why did you hit the brakes, sir?! Do you even know how to drive?! Do you want me to file a complaint against you?!"

Hou Liangping slowly turned his head.

Beneath the greasy baseball cap, a bloodshot eye was visible.

He looked at the furious Zhang Hao, a stiff smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that looked more like a grimace than a cry.

The sound was like two pieces of sandpaper being rubbed together dry, hoarse and grating.

"Boss, there's road construction ahead, so the main entrance to Royal Dynasty KTV is closed."

He paused, tapping his fingers on the plastic steering wheel, making a dull "thump-thump" sound.

"If you want to get there as soon as possible to throw money around, the only way is to take that unfinished, abandoned overpass in the south of the city. There are no streetlights there, do you dare to go there?"