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

The red and blue light spots from the neon lights, through the mud-covered windshield, flickered and brushed against Hou Liangping's aged face.

His jaw was clenched, and his cheeks ached from clenching his teeth.

He casually cleared his dry throat and exhaled some phlegm-laden breath.

"Boss, the students in Lingxiao's class... wow, the benefits are pretty good, huh?"

Hou Liangping asked in a hoarse voice, his palms sweating so much that the plastic cover on the steering wheel was slippery.

Zhang Hao shifted his body in the back seat, causing the leather seat to creak under his weight.

A pungent smell of Moutai liquor mixed with the sweet scent of men's cologne wafted straight into Hou Liangping's nostrils.

"Good? Hiccup... You call this 'good'?"

Zhang Hao, slurring his words, slapped his thigh repeatedly.

"Master, let me be honest with you, I switched jobs to Lingxiao... and it's only been three months!"

He held up three fingers and waved them haphazardly in the air.

The car lurched and I poked my finger on the window, leaving a greasy mark.

"Three months! Master Yan directly allocated me a large penthouse in Jinxiu Bay in the south of the city!"

Zhang Hao loosened his tie, and one of the buttons on his suit jacket popped open.

"Two hundred and forty square meters! And it even has... oh, a wraparound viewing balcony! Just bring your suitcase and move in!"

Hou Liangping's fingers gripping the steering wheel trembled violently.

The front of the beat-up Jetta wobbled, and the tires splashed mud and water as they drove over puddles on the road.

Two hundred and forty square meters?

He used to be the head of the anti-corruption bureau, and he was still living in that old, dilapidated 80-square-meter apartment in Beijing.

My wife, Zhong Xiaoai, complains every day about the leaking water pipes in the kitchen and the peeling paint on the walls.

Now, a former archivist who was so scared by him that he wet his pants has moved into a large apartment in just three months.

"Hey! Drive carefully! I just bought this green Submariner, you can't afford to pay for it if you damage it!"

Zhang Hao cursed and rubbed his Rolex on his wrist with his sleeve.

"It's not just the house... I brought my bedridden mother from the countryside here yesterday."

He let out a loud burp, his eyes red with excitement.

"I went to Lingxiao's own holographic hospital for treatment. Registration, X-rays, and specialist consultation—all for free!"

Zhang Hao leaned forward and exhaled a hot breath of alcohol.

"The attending physician said that if a family member is a manager-level executive or higher in a conglomerate, the holographic medical network will be completely free! Free for life!"

Hou Liangping felt as if his chest was stuffed with a wad of wet cotton, making it hard to breathe.

Stomach acid surged up my esophagus, burning my throat with pain.

He opened his mouth, then managed to squeeze out a dry sentence.

"That...that would mean risking your life. Do you think capitalists would just give it away for free?"

"Pah!"

Zhang Hao spat a mouthful of phlegm out of the half-lowered car window, and a few drops of rain blew back in, hitting his face.

He wiped his face haphazardly.

"Capitalists? Master Yan is a living bodhisattva!"

He slumped back into the back seat, pointing his finger at the interior roof.

"I used to work in that lousy finance bureau, and I listened to those pregnant leaders holding meetings every day."

Zhang Hao adopted a high-pitched voice, mimicking the official tone of his former superiors, sounding rather strange.

"Xiao Zhang, young people should be dedicated and hardworking. Don't just focus on that fixed salary!"

He spat out a mouthful of liquid, his face turning purplish-red.

"To hell with dedication! I've been talking about dedication for five years, and I'm broke!"

Hou Liangping's eyelids twitched suddenly, as if someone had kicked him in the heart.

"I wanted to buy my wife a gold bracelet for Chinese New Year, but I have to put up with that bald section chief's attitude. I can't even get a hot meal!"

Zhang Hao patted his chest with such force that it made a loud, muffled thud.

"And now?"

"Master Yan is ruthless; he's quick to blacklist or kill off this person or that person. But when it comes to his own brothers, he's incredibly generous with money!"

He took out his phone, turned on the screen, and held it to the back of Hou Liangping's head.

"I closed a logistics outsourcing deal this quarter, guess how much my bonus was?"

He burst into wild laughter, laughing so hard he could barely breathe, spitting out saliva.

"Five hundred thousand! In cash! I could work for ten years straight in the system, without eating or drinking, and still not save that much!"

Zhang Hao was panting heavily, his eyes filled with a fanatical light.

"I've paid enough money, and my parents won't have to worry about medical treatment. I'd be willing to sell my life to Master Yan!"

Every single word.

They were like barbed steel needles, piercing Hou Liangping's skull along his eardrums.

His blood rushed to his head, and his ears were ringing.

The windshield wipers screeched against the glass, as if mocking his lifelong dedication.

Yan Qingfeng is a cancer.

He's a villain who disregards the law, tramples on moral boundaries, and drains the lifeblood of the people of Handong.

Hou Liangping had always told himself this.

This was his only obsession, the reason he survived by clinging to his broken body and hiding in the stinking sewers.

He thought the people of Handong were living in dire straits.

But what is the truth?

The timid junior clerk in the back seat is now beaming and living like a normal person.

There was no bureaucratic oppression, and no hypocritical slogans.

Yan Qingfeng used the most brutal capitalist means to shatter those empty promises and actually put real money into the mouths of the lower classes.

He, a supposedly righteous and incorruptible official, couldn't even afford a cold medicine.

At the intersection ahead, the traffic light suddenly switched from green to red.

The string that had been taut in Hou Liangping's mind for half his life snapped.

His right foot felt like it was stepping on a lump of mud, and without warning, he slammed on the brakes.

"squeak--"

The screeching sound of tires ripped through the rainy night, and a stench of burning rubber wafted into the car.

The broken Jetta suddenly swerved and stopped in front of the zebra crossing.

The car shook violently twice and then stalled.

"Holy crap!"

Zhang Hao slammed his head against the plastic headrest of the front seat, covering his nose and cursing.

Blood trickled down between his fingers and dripped onto his white shirt.

"Are you fucking blind?! Can't you see the red light? Can't you even step on the brakes?! I'll kill you, you believe me?!"

Hou Liangping gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands.

The knuckles protrude, and blue veins crawl all over the back of the hand like small snakes.

He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving violently like a broken bellows.

Tears mingled with the sweltering sweat in the car, streaming down his weathered face and landing on his faded trouser legs.

The Daoist principles he had upheld throughout his life were shattered into nothingness.

Hou Liangping ignored Zhang Hao's cursing.

He just stared intently at the red light outside the windshield, which was wet with rain.

His chapped lips trembled for a long time, and his voice was as hoarse as sandpaper rubbing against glass.

"Boss... if it were Master Yan's place, they wouldn't hire unregistered people to do chores like sweeping and cleaning."

He sniffed, his eyes swirling with despair and a laughable glimmer of hope.

"Do you think I... could I give it a try?"