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

The air conditioning in the lobby of Lingxiao Building was blasting, making it feel like a freezer.

As soon as Gao Yuliang stepped through the two huge glass sensor doors, he felt a sudden chill run down his spine.

His thin gray jacket had long been washed until the fibers were brittle.

The cold wind swirled and poured in through the cuffs and collar, instantly seeping into the very bones.

My stomach had been aching for years due to ulcers.

Stimulated by this physical chill, my intestines felt as if they were tightly strangled by rusty wire.

Gao Yuliang's face twitched in pain, and he instinctively bent over, his withered hands clutching his stomach tightly.

The gleaming marble floor beneath my feet reflected the dazzling crystal chandelier overhead.

He stepped on it with his worn-out black cloth shoes.

With each step, the soles of his shoes rubbed against the stones, producing a dry, weak "rustling" sound.

"What are you doing? Go beg outside."

A black-clad security guard, as imposing as an iron tower, stood in front of him, his voice cold and inhuman.

A pair of eyes, as if looking at a dead dog, sized up Gao Yuliang's shabby attire.

Gao Yuliang swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing awkwardly in the loose skin of his neck.

"I'm looking for your General Manager Yan. I'm Gao Yuliang."

He forced himself to straighten his hunched back, trying to adopt the air of a professor from the Department of Political Science and Law at Han University.

But his voice was so hoarse it was unbearable to listen to, revealing a weakness that even he himself loathed.

The security guard pressed the communicator in his ear and asked for instructions in a low voice.

Without even changing his expression, he simply reached out and made a rude "please" gesture in mid-air.

"Master Yan wants you to go upstairs. Search you and leave all your iron weapons."

Two security guards grabbed Gao Yuliang's arms from the left and right.

The rough, large hands gripped him like iron clamps, making his bones ache.

The metal detector swept across his pockets.

The security guard unceremoniously took the last half packet of cheap stomach medicine from his pocket and casually threw it into the nearby trash can.

Gao Yuliang's eye twitched violently twice.

But he gritted his teeth and remained silent, tasting a humiliating, rusty flavor in his mouth.

The elevator is a dedicated, direct elevator that goes straight upwards.

The intense feeling of weightlessness caused Gao Yuliang to experience a high-frequency buzzing tinnitus in his ears.

The acid in his stomach was rising up to his throat, and he could only desperately swallow the bitter liquid.

"bite."

We arrived at the 33rd floor, and the metal elevator doors slid open to both sides.

Two security guards helped him out of the elevator and through a corridor covered with thick wool carpets.

The thick, soundproof double wooden door was pushed open.

A scent mingled with the sweet aroma of Cuban cigars and the crispness of the air wafted over me.

Gao Yuliang stumbled into the enormous chairman's office.

The room was dimly lit, and the sunlight coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows was filtered into a cool tone by the smart glass.

The air was eerily quiet, with only the occasional soft tapping of a keyboard.

Yan Qingfeng wasn't wearing a suit.

He was only wearing a good quality black shirt, the collar casually open, revealing his strong collarbone.

He leaned against the imposing huanghuali rosewood desk.

His legs were crossed and rested on the edge of the table, and the soles of his shoes were clean.

"Click. Click."

Yan Qingfeng was playing with a pure gold windproof lighter in his right hand.

The crisp metallic clanging echoed repeatedly in the deathly silent room.

It felt like fingernails were scratching Gao Yuliang's taut nerves.

Gao Yuliang stood three meters away from the table, at a loss for what to do.

He intended to clear his throat and call out "Qingfeng".

He adopted a bit of the pretentious and aloof demeanor of his former mentor.

But when he looked up, his gaze fell upon the huge holographic screen floating directly above the mahogany table.

My throat felt like it was instantly blocked by a handful of dry sand.

On the screen, a dark blue stream of data rolled wildly like a waterfall.

The water pressure of the water network in Handong Province, the power grid load, and the real-time balance of 20 million Yunxiao credit accounts.

Which street lost power? Which person had their account locked and couldn't buy a single grain of food?

Everything was right under Yan Qingfeng's nose, presented through cold, hard data.

This is not the kind of checks and balances found in legal and political lectures at all.

This is the power of life and death.

Gao Yuliang's legs started shaking uncontrollably.

The fabric of my trousers rubbed against my sweaty leg hair, making me incredibly uncomfortable.

He clenched his fists at his sides, his thumbs gripping the hem and seams of his gray jacket tightly.

The fingernails turned a deathly pale gray from excessive force.

"Teacher Gao, you've been recuperating inside for more than half a year, and you don't look as well as you did when you were in the provincial party committee compound."

Yan Qingfeng finally spoke.

His voice was flat, without a trace of the warmth of a teacher-student reunion.

He didn't even sit up straight, the gold lighter in his hand still spinning in circles.

A cold gaze swept across Gao Yuliang's sunken face.

The saliva in Gao Yuliang's mouth tasted as bitter as if he had chewed bitter herbs.

He opened his mouth, and a small, bloody gash appeared on his chapped lips.

The taste of blood instantly spread across the tip of the tongue.

"President Yan... now the entire Handong region has to live at your mercy."

Gao Yuliang abandoned all pretense and politeness, his voice hoarse and raspy.

"There's no cash left on the streets, not even beggars. You've really gone all out."

Yan Qingfeng stopped turning the lighter.

He casually pulled a Cohiba cigar from the cigarette case on the table, brought it to his nose, and smelled it.

"Beggars? Keeping them on the streets is an eyesore. It would be better to give them sanitation worker uniforms to sweep the streets."

Yan Qingfeng's tone revealed a sense of condescending boredom.

"After sweeping a street clean, the system automatically gives me two catties of fine rice. I didn't starve them to death, and they still have to erect a longevity tablet for me."

Gao Yuliang's chest heaved violently.

The lung tubes were making a loud, bellows-like sound.

He recalled how, back in his days at the Department of Political Science and Law at Wuhan University, he stood on the podium and talked to these students about legal principles and bottom lines.

Now it all looks like a pile of stinking waste paper.

"You're essentially supporting tens of millions of people!"

Gao Yuliang couldn't contain his anger and took half a step forward.

The cloth shoes made a dull thud on the carpet.

He was trembling all over, his fingers shaking as he pointed at the holographic screen.

"You've locked the people's livelihoods and the provincial party committee's power supply into this broken computer!"

"Is this the kind of etiquette you, Yan Qingfeng, learned?"

Yan Qingfeng ignored him.

With a flick of the finger, an orange flame shot out and lit the cigar.

A strong smell of tobacco sprayed directly into the air.

He looked at Gao Yuliang through the bluish-gray smoke as if he were looking at a dead man.

The undisguised ferocity in his eyes sent a sharp pain through Gao Yuliang's heart.

"Gentle breeze..."

Gao Yuliang's spine, which had been taut for so long, finally collapsed.

His voice was hoarse, filled with barely concealed fear and a barely perceptible tremor.

A ring of red blood vessels appeared around the eyes.

"I taught you legal principles and checks and balances back then."

Gao Yuliang swallowed a mouthful of bitter stomach acid, and the pride of a scholar in his eyes shattered into ashes.

"But you...you used rice and power outages to treat officials and the people like meat on your chopping board."

His hands hung limply at his sides, and the seams of his trousers were creased from being pulled.

"You're much harsher than the teacher."

Yan Qingfeng sat in the large leather chair, lightly flicking the ash from his cigar with his fingers.

Silver ash fell into the crystal ashtray.

A cold, bloodthirsty smile curled at the corner of his lips, his eyes filled with condescending contempt.

"You think that's ruthless? Professor Gao, your vision is still limited by that flawed legal system."

Yan Qingfeng casually slammed the pure gold lighter onto the table, making a sharp, piercing sound.

"I'm showing you mercy by letting you come up here today, not to listen to your complaints. Guess what kind of extinct death I've prepared for our old acquaintances?"