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

The dazzling virtual fireworks over Guangming Square have finally dissipated.

The lingering effects of the low-frequency sound waves still lingered in the air.

My chest felt tight, like it was stuffed with a wad of wet cotton that had just been pulled out of the water.

Sha Ruijin loosened his tie and took a deep breath of the damp, stuffy night air.

Li Dakang then got into the black Hongqi limousine.

The car door was slammed shut by the driver with a "bang".

The frenzied roars of the ordinary people outside, which could have blown the roof off, were instantly extinguished by the thick bulletproof and soundproof glass.

The carriage was deathly silent; no one uttered a sound.

The air conditioner vents were blowing out cold air.

It brought out a stuffy smell mixed with leather and cheap fragrance.

Li Dakang's white shirt was already soaked with sweat, sticking to his skin in a slippery way.

A cold wind crept up the back of my neck.

He suddenly flinched, and goosebumps rose up along his arms.

"Secretary Sha..."

Li Dakang swallowed.

His Adam's apple rubbed dryly against his chest, producing a soft swallowing sound.

"If Qi Weidong really turns against us... how are we going to explain this to the people in Beijing?"

"Shut up, your head hurts." Sha Ruijin didn't even turn his head.

He closed his bloodshot eyes.

He pressed his fingertips firmly against his throbbing temples, rubbing them relentlessly.

The driver stepped on the gas, and the wheels rolled over a shallow puddle on the ground, splashing mud onto the car door with a soft "plop".

A dozen minutes later.

The car had just turned into the rusty iron gate of the provincial party committee compound.

The tires rubbed against the asphalt, giving off a burnt rubber smell, and I slammed on the brakes.

Caught off guard, Li Dakang nearly bumped his forehead on the leather headrest of the front seat.

"What's going on, Xiao Liu! Did you buy this driver's license in the middle of the night...?"

Before he could finish his rant, a dark shadow suddenly pounced onto the passenger-side window with a "smack".

A greasy, fleshy old face was pressed tightly against the glass.

The fat was squeezed out of shape.

The heavy rain soaked his hair, and water streamed down his forehead.

It's Old Zhou from the Provincial Department of Finance.

This old man usually gets out of breath after walking just a few steps up the stairs, but today he's acting like he's possessed.

He slammed his hands against the glass, leaving behind a sticky trail of sweat and water stains.

"Open the door! Secretary Sha! Old Li!"

Old Zhou, his voice cracking and hoarse, howled, "This is a huge mess!"

In the Standing Committee meeting room.

The old-fashioned floor fan made a creaking sound as its parts rubbed together, and it oscillated back and forth.

An urgent document, reeking of pungent ink, was slammed down in the center of the oval conference table by Old Zhou.

The paper slid across the mahogany tabletop, making a dry, grating sound.

Old Zhou was hunched over, like a fully cooked shrimp.

He clutched his stomach tightly with both hands, the spasms in his stomach making him gasp for breath.

Tears mixed with snot streamed down to the corners of her lips.

He didn't even take any paper; he just wiped his face haphazardly with his wet sleeve, pulling out a sticky strand.

"This job... this is impossible to do!"

Old Zhou sniffed, his eyes filled with desperate bloodshot veins.

"That Yan Qingfeng, that living devil! He's putting us in a deep frying pan!"

Li Dakang reached out to grab the document.

My fingers were trembling so much that I could barely grip the edge of the paper, and I accidentally brushed my index fingertip.

The paper had sharp edges, and it tore a thin, bloody gash.

Blood beads immediately seeped out, but he seemed oblivious to the pain, staring intently at the bold text above.

"What are you yelling about!" Sha Ruijin lifted the lid of the purple clay teacup on the table and slammed it back down.

The crisp sound of porcelain clinking echoed through the room.

"The province just reported a 400% GDP growth rate last month! With such a large economy, why are you here crying mournfully?"

"What a load of rubbish, my dear Party Secretary!"

Old Zhou was in so much pain that he slid down the edge of the table and finally collapsed onto the wool carpet.

The tie hung crookedly around his neck, like a rope used for hanging.

"That's all a lie! It's all Yan Qingfeng's doing!"

Old Zhou was panting heavily, spitting as he did so onto the carpet.

"The ordinary people's spare money and wages have all been converted into those Lingxiao Points!"

Old Zhou was so anxious that he kept slapping his thigh, making a "slap slap" sound.

"You use points to buy rice, points to take a taxi, even scanning a code to buy a scallion on the street! It's a closed-loop transaction system within their conglomerate!"

"Our official coffers can't even collect a single coin in taxes!"

Li Dakang refused to believe it and grabbed a pen from the table.

The pen tip pressed against the paper, making a harsh scratching sound.

"The bridge on Guangming North Road... cost 8 billion yuan to build, and the old city renovation cost 120 million yuan... where did that money go?!"

Like a gambler who'd lost badly, he spewed spittle everywhere, "Can't the government even squeeze out a few hundred billion in revenue?"

"Squeeze my ass!"

Old Zhou slapped the carpet and wailed, "Your Guangming Bridge is now full of Lingxiao's driverless trucks, and they don't pay any tolls!"

"Everyone in the old town has moved to live in those free, penthouse apartments owned by conglomerates; nobody goes there to spend money!"

Old Zhou threw another report onto Li Dakang's shoes.

"The current cash reserves in the account... can't even raise twenty million!"

Li Dakang felt a tendon in the back of his neck begin to twitch.

A tingling sensation.

He turned to the last page of the document.

What greets the eye is a long string of bright red numbers, so red it's blinding, like a death warrant imprinted on the retina.

"Tomorrow, at noon..."

Old Zhou's throat sounded like it had a lump of phlegm stuck in it, making a gurgling sound, and his Adam's apple rolled with difficulty.

"The provincial government, plus the local government financing vehicle bonds issued by Jingzhou City in recent years."

He stretched out three greasy fingers and shook them into a sieve shape in the air.

"Three hundred billion."

Old Zhou gritted his teeth and spat out these words.

"They're all due! You need to pay them in cash!"

The meeting room fell into a deathly silence.

The only sound was the creaking of the fan, which sounded like someone was sawing a coffin lid.

Li Dakang stared intently at the long string of zeros following the three characters at the beginning.

My eyes felt like they were about to pop out of the window, and the stinging sensation was almost unbearable.

The sharp, high-frequency tinnitus in my eardrums exploded instantly.

With a "hum," it drowned out all other sounds.

The two veins on his temples were throbbing so hard they looked like they were about to burst.

The undigested acid in Li Dakang's stomach was poured directly down his esophagus.

It was so spicy it felt like I'd swallowed a handful of shards of glass.

Suddenly, a black blur flashed before my eyes, filled with golden stars.

"Use...use land as collateral..."

Li Dakang's voice cracked, and his lips trembled as he squeezed out half a sentence.

"Who wants your worthless land!"

Old Zhou sat on the ground, shouting his rebuttal in a harsh voice.

"Yan Qingfeng has driven housing prices down to rock-bottom levels. All the land in the entire Handong area combined wouldn't even cover the interest from selling it for 300 billion!"

Li Dakang's body swayed violently, and it felt as if he were stepping on a large wad of loose cotton.

I can't even stand up anymore.

"Bang!"

He fell straight forward, his forehead slamming hard against the hard mahogany edge of the conference table.

The wooden ridges chipped the surface.

A large, purplish-red bump instantly swelled up on his forehead, oozing blood.

Old Zhou was so frightened that he scrambled over, crying, "Old Li! Secretary Li, don't scare me!"

Sha Ruijin sat in the main seat, his whole body stiff as an iron plate.

The hot water in the teacup spilled out and splashed onto the crotch of his trousers, leaving a red mark, but he didn't react at all.

"Secretary Sha... what should we do?"

Old Zhou grabbed Li Dakang's arm, looking up at his snot-covered, blind old face, his eyes filled with despair.

"If the bank can't transfer the money after midnight, it will be in default."

He swallowed hard, his saliva tasting of blood. "Tomorrow morning, the gates of this provincial party committee compound will be razed to the ground by those debt-collecting contractors!"