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

"Beep, forty points received."

A piercing female electronic voice blared from the stereo of the beat-up Jetta.

Zhang Hao pushed open the car door, and the cold rain outside, along with the gust of wind, rushed into the car.

"Damn, what a piece of junk."

He frowned and patted the rain-soaked cuffs of his Armani suit with disdain.

"The shock absorption is like a tractor, it's so bumpy it's made my Moutai (a type of Chinese liquor) almost reflux. I'll never ride in a gasoline car again."

He spat on the ground, his leather shoes stepping into puddles.

With a "bang".

The car door was slammed shut, and the entire car shook violently twice.

Zhang Hao straightened his tie and swaggered across the street into the magnificent "Royal Dynasty Club".

Hou Liangping reached out and turned the key, turning off the car.

When I pulled out the keys, my fingers slipped, and the keychain fell onto the greasy floor mat with a dull thud.

He was too lazy to pick it up.

He slumped back, shrinking into the shade of the bare sycamore tree by the roadside.

The train carriage felt stuffy.

The smell of cheap rubber floor mats, mixed with the stench of alcohol left by Zhang Hao, was so strong it seemed to seep into my nostrils.

Hou Liangping's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, and his stomach spasmed.

He turned his head and gagged, but nothing came out. Instead, he felt a sour, bitter taste of bile that burned his tongue.

I released my hands from the plastic steering wheel; my palms were covered in sticky, cold sweat.

My hands were shaking so badly, like I had Parkinson's, I just couldn't stop.

He buried his face in his rough palms, his fingernails digging into his cheeks, leaving several pale red marks.

Previously, I worked in the office of the head of the anti-corruption bureau.

He held a thermos of goji berries and scolded Zhang Hao like he was scolding his grandson.

At that moment, Zhang Hao stood ramrod straight, his legs twitching, and he didn't even dare to breathe loudly.

What now?

They live in a large, single-level apartment of over 200 square meters, and their own mother doesn't have to pay for medical treatment.

I became an unregistered rat, drinking raw water from the sewers and having to hide even when buying a box of cold medicine.

My wife, Zhong Xiaoai, is in Beijing.

Those snobbish relatives are probably gossiping behind my back.

She probably won't even be able to get through the gate of the compound.

Hou Liangping suddenly pushed open the car door.

A gust of autumn rain mixed with ice shards slapped his face, like a solid slap.

He didn't take the tattered umbrella from the passenger seat.

He stepped out and landed directly in a muddy puddle next to the curb.

"Smack!"

Muddy water poured into the pair of cheap, unglued sneakers.

A chill ran up my ankles and shot straight to the back of my head like a needle prick.

He numbly raised his head, rain blurring his eyelashes.

The street across the street was brightly lit, almost blindingly so.

The dark gold "Lingxiao Holographic Convenience Supermarket" sign hangs in mid-air, its light spots shining on the wet asphalt road, giving it a glossy sheen.

Even in the middle of the night, there was still a lively queue outside the supermarket.

Hou Liangping was like a wandering soul.

Dragging his mud-filled shoe, he limped over.

The soles of the shoes scraped against the ground, making a screeching sound.

"Hey Lao Liu, did you get your wristband activated?"

An old man wrapped in a military overcoat stamped his feet, his trouser legs splattered with mud, and carried two bags of pork ribs in his hands.

"My eyesight is failing me, I can't see the green text clearly, please don't deduct more points from my account."

Old Liu, with half a cigarette between his fingers, grinned broadly, revealing his missing front tooth.

"Get it on the brush! Fresh pork ribs, 1.2 yuan per pound!"

He pointed at the bag of meat with the finger holding the cigarette, and flicked the ash onto the plastic bag.

"In the past, I wouldn't have dared to cut this much during festivals. Master Yan's heart is made of flesh and blood; he's a living bodhisattva reincarnated!"

"Oh, that's for sure."

A plump woman holding a red umbrella chimed in, spitting everywhere.

"My daughter-in-law gave birth yesterday at... Lingxiao Maternity Hospital."

The plump woman patted her thigh, and the water droplets from the edge of the umbrella splashed onto Old Liu's shoulder.

"Guess what? The bed fee was waived, the doctor was incredibly kind, and they even paid for two cans of imported baby formula!"

She smiled so broadly her eyes narrowed into slits. "I couldn't sleep in the middle of the night, so I quickly came out to buy a few old hens to make soup. Why not take advantage of the perk Master Yan gave me!"

Hou Liangping walked forward blankly.

I wasn't looking where I was going and bumped into a young man who had just finished paying his bill.

"Clang."

The young man dropped the soy milk in his hand on the ground.

The plastic cup lid burst open, spilling hot white liquid that splashed all over Hou Liangping's trouser leg.

Hou Liangping was so frightened that he instinctively covered his head.

He instinctively shrank back, his back slamming heavily against the lamppost.

"I'm so sorry, I was blind..."

He stammered, his throat dry, fearing the man would pull out his phone to call the police and check his ID.

The young man paused for a moment, but didn't get angry.

Instead, he bent down, picked up the empty cup, and threw it into the trash can next to him.

He glanced at Hou Liangping, noticing his thin, faded gray jacket and soaking wet trouser legs.

"Hey sir, it's freezing cold outside, aren't you using an umbrella?"

The young man pulled a steaming meat bun from the plastic bag and shoved it into Hou Liangping's hand.

"Take this to tide you over. Prices are so cheap these days, it's like you're getting it for free. Who needs something to eat? You'd better find somewhere to shelter from the rain, or you'll catch a cold."

The young man opened his umbrella, whistling as he walked away.

Hou Liangping looked down at the steamed bun in his hand, which was wrapped in a thin plastic bag.

The steam from the bag scalded his cold, stiff palms.

The rich aroma of pork and scallions filled his nostrils.

It made his empty stomach rumble loudly.

He opened his lips, which were frozen purple, and took a bite.

The meat juices burst in his mouth, the temperature so hot it made his tongue numb.

Tears welled up without warning.

It mixed with the rainwater on my face and flowed into my mouth, tasting both salty and bitter.

He wiped his face haphazardly with the back of his hand, getting mud and water all over his face.

before.

He talks about rules all the time, and all he thinks about is sending those who don't follow the rules to jail.

The official slogan has been chanted for decades, but ordinary people still have to haggle with vendors in the market for half a pound of meat, arguing until their faces turn red.

What about Yan Qingfeng?

That scoundrel who tore apart all laws and moral boundaries.

Using a bunch of cold, hard points and the most barbaric capitalist methods, they forcefully stuff houses, lives, and piles of cheap meat into the hands of ordinary people.

Zhang Hao risked his life for Master Yan, and the elderly folks sang praises to Master Yan in the middle of the night in the rain.

The remaining half of the bun fell into the muddy water.

The dough had soaked and swelled up, and the meat filling had scattered all over the floor.

Hou Liangping's legs went weak.

With a "thump".

His knee slammed heavily onto the waterlogged concrete floor, splashing water high into the air and soaking his clothes.

Passersby were startled and walked around him as if he were a madman.

He looked up at the cold rain pouring down from the sky.

The raindrops stung my eyelids.

"What exactly have I been investigating all this time?"

Hou Liangping let out a dry howl into the dark night sky, his voice as hoarse as a broken bellows.

Tears and snot were all over his face. He gripped the cracks in the brickwork with both hands, his fingernails cracking and bleeding.

"My laughable bottom line is nothing compared to the meat noodles Yan Qingfeng threw at me... it's just a fart!"