Nominal: Starting with an entrance exam for a PhD in Economics at Peking University

She began to cry.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, washing away two streaks from her carefully applied makeup.

Then she said a lot, mostly about herself—how hard she had been all these years, how indifferent Xiao Gangyu was to her, how she had managed to hold on to a marriage that had long since lost all affection, and how she had managed to get to this point.

The interrogators listened patiently and asked questions patiently. Once she calmed down a bit, they steered the conversation in another direction.

"Teacher Liang, has there been anything unusual about Xiao Gangyu over the years?"

Liang Lu dabbed her eyes with a tissue, thought for a moment, and said, "Yes."

She said this was something she had guessed a long time ago, but she never revealed it because once she did, she would lose everything.

That was about six or seven years ago. Xiao Gangyu started spending more time away from home, using various excuses such as social engagements, field research, or impromptu meetings. Liang Lu, having been a relative of a high-ranking official, knew that the Director of Public Security's schedule was very full, and each of these excuses, taken individually, was plausible.

But one day, she accidentally came across Xiao Gangyu's phone. There was a message and a photo inside. It showed a chubby little child, about one or two years old, sitting on the grass in a park, smiling happily. There was no text in the photo, and the sender's contact name was a pinyin abbreviation.

Liang Lu stared at that photo for a long time.

The child's eyebrows and eyes bore a resemblance to Xiao Gangyu's.

"Did you ask him about it later?" the interrogator asked.

Liang Lu shook her head, wiping away her tears again: "No."

"Why?"

Liang Lu was silent for a moment before speaking, her voice calm:

"What can I do? I'll ask him, and he'll either admit it or he won't. The final result is what it is, and I can't change it. Besides... as long as he doesn't bring that person in front of me, so I can save face in public, I can pretend nothing happened."

She paused, lowered her head, and a hint of something unreadable appeared in her voice: "I'm still the director's wife, aren't I?"

The interrogator asked, "How old is that child now?"

Liang Lu said she didn't know, but she should be almost ten years old by now.

Who is the child's mother?

Liang Lu shook her head, indicating that she genuinely didn't know and wasn't trying to cover it up.

Where is the child?

I still don't know.

This information was compiled by the investigators and sent to Hou Liangping.

Hou Liangping brought this news into the interrogation room.

He sat opposite Xiao Gangyu and recounted the details of the phone photo, the child, and Liang Lu's speculations in a calm and unhurried tone.

Xiao Gangyu sat there with his hands on the table, his expression unchanged. After listening, his eyes narrowed for a moment, then returned to calm without saying a word.

Hou Liangping observed this.

Instead of immediately pursuing this direction, he changed the subject and started talking about other things.

He said that in the cases he has handled over the years, there are many people like Xiao Gangyu who are suffering inside. People outside think he is bearing the burden for them, but in fact, people outside have already dealt with everything that can be dealt with, transferred assets that can be transferred, and severed relationships that can be severed. When the final result comes out and the person is sentenced to more than ten years, the person goes out and finds that he has nothing left, and his family is broken up.

Even the money he embezzled was taken by his accomplices.

He said he had seen too many people like this who came in thinking they were holding firm, but it was all for nothing except adding to their sentences.

"Do you think that just because you're sticking your guns out at the Discipline Inspection Commission, people outside will take care of your illegitimate child? No way. They'll just stay far away. Even after retirement, people get forgotten, let alone someone like you who's been sentenced." Hou Liangping's tone was full of pity.

Xiao Gangyu looked at him, his eyes filled with calmness and a hint of mockery.

Then he spoke:

"Monkey, I'm not admitting to having an illegitimate child, and I have no accomplices."

"I just wanted to tell you something."

Hou Liangping looked at him, waiting for him to speak.

"Secretary Zhao is widely recognized as a kind and honest man in the officialdom of Handong."

After saying this, Xiao Gangyu shut his mouth and didn't speak again.

Chapter 190 Deep Water

Shuntian, 3 PM on a Friday afternoon.

In a symposium of a special committee of the Senate, a special consultative meeting on industrial transfer and sustainable development in the central and western regions is underway. Participants include scholars, business representatives, committee members from several provinces, and several retired officials invited to offer their opinions, serving as part of a channel for gathering public opinion.

Zhao Lichun sat on the right side of the conference table, near the center, with the gentle and focused expression he always wore when attending such occasions. He had an open notebook beside him and occasionally looked down to write a few words.

He wasn't actually listening.

These meetings are just a formality.

He was thinking about something else entirely.

In Handong, the latest news came this morning—Xiao Gangyu is holding firm in the Discipline Inspection Commission for more than three weeks and has not given in yet.

This news was neither good nor bad, but what Zhao Lichun cared more about was not the specific event itself, but the underlying trend it revealed.

Sha Ruijin is still holding on.

The fact that he is holding on means that he is under pressure, that he doesn't have much time, and that the game is not yet over.

Sha Ruijin has already revealed his true intentions; now it's my turn to make my move.

As the symposium ended and the participants gradually left, several people came over to shake his hand and exchange pleasantries. He responded to each of them with a polite smile and thoughtful greetings, ensuring that no one felt neglected.

After most of the people had left, the secretary walked up to him and whispered, "Sir, the car is waiting downstairs."

Zhao Lichun nodded, casually closed the notebook, tucked it under his arm, and walked out.

Instead of going home, he had the driver take him to an alley west of Shuntian.

The alley is not long, with old-style courtyard houses on both sides. The gates of the courtyards are all closed, and the alley is very quiet. There are only a few locust trees, which divide the twilight sky into patches of light and shadow.

The car was parked outside a courtyard gate in the middle of the alley.

The owner of the courtyard is surnamed Wei. He is a retired comrade who is almost eighty years old this year. He worked in the government for nearly twenty years and is Zhao Lichun's senior and one of his mentors in the early years of his entry into the political circle.

The two sat at the stone table in the courtyard, drinking tea and talking about trivial matters. Old Wei had been practicing calligraphy recently, specifically the Yan style. Zhao Lichun asked how it was going, and Old Wei replied that it was no good, his hands were shaking, and his strength was unstable.

Zhao Lichun said that calligraphy doesn't have any trembling or non-trembling strokes. With your experience, every stroke is full of charm.

After chatting for a while, Old Wei picked up his teacup, took a sip, and then changed the subject:

"It's been a bit unsettled in Handong lately since the start of spring."

Zhao Lichun didn't reply immediately. He simply put down his teacup and looked at the pomegranate tree in the yard. The pomegranates had already borne small green fruits, which hung densely on the branches.

“It’s a bit messy,” he said, his tone flat, “but it’s nothing.”

Old Wei glanced at him: "That Xiao Sha, his methods are too crude, he doesn't pay any attention to unity."

“He’s looking for a breakthrough,” Zhao Lichun said. “If he’s in a rush, he’s likely to go astray.”

Old Wei hummed in agreement, but didn't continue speaking. He picked up his teacup and took another sip.

Zhao Lichun turned to look at the senior colleague, his tone still calm, but with a frankness usually reserved for elders: "Old leader, I need you to put in a good word for me."

Old Wei put down his teacup, looked at him, thought for a moment, and asked, "What did you say?"

"The work and achievements of Handong over the years have been the result of solid, down-to-earth efforts and can withstand scrutiny."

Old Wei was silent for a moment, then finally nodded: "Alright, I'll talk. But Lichun, you know my principles. I'll only say what I see as fact; I won't embellish it."

“That’s enough,” Zhao Lichun said. “You just need to state the facts.”

He knew that a senior comrade with influence at the higher level, speaking with facts on an appropriate occasion, carried more weight than any deliberate defense.

That week, Zhao Lichun invited several people, each in a different way.

Some encounters were at dinner parties, some at tea gatherings, and some were simply chance meetings during walks, where a few words were exchanged. Some people he had known for thirty years; some he had only worked with a few times; and some, strictly speaking, were just friends of friends.

Every time they met, he never talked about Handong, never mentioned Sha Ruijin, and never spoke of his current situation.

He was talking about other things—the gains and losses of a province's recent economic policies, the development trend of a certain industry, a topic being discussed at the Senate level, and a passage from a book he had recently read that resonated with him.

He is a great conversationalist, as everyone who knows him knows. He is knowledgeable, articulates clearly, has opinions, doesn't beat around the bush, and makes people feel respected and that what they say is being taken seriously.

Only when the conversation is almost over will he casually steer the topic slightly.

"Recently, some things have happened in Handong, you've probably heard about them. I just feel that the way things are done in some places could be discussed further. How can such a large province, with so many years of accumulated experience, be completely without merit?"

After saying that, he stopped talking and let the words remain there on their own.

He knew that once these people returned, they would spread the word in their own ways, wherever they could reach.

He made no demands regarding the manner, angle, or stance of the outward dissemination; he simply expressed a genuine and well-founded concern.

The fact that a former Party Secretary who had served in Handong for so many years and had such deep feelings for this land said such a thing is itself a signal.

This was Zhao Lichun's first move; his second move involved the Senate's proposal and consultation channels.

The functions of the Senate are consultation, democratic oversight, and participation in political affairs. As a vice-senior, Zhao Lichun is responsible for each of these three tasks.

He had his secretary prepare a draft proposal entitled "Several Suggestions on Optimizing the Local Business Environment and Ensuring Policy Continuity".

This proposal is written in a very academic style, citing a large amount of data and case studies to demonstrate the damage that frequent policy adjustments and the systematic negation of historical decisions can cause to the business environment and sustainable development within a certain region. The writing is rigorous, the logic is clear, every argument has its source, and there are no offensive words or statements targeting any specific person or province.

The proposal was submitted to the Senate Proposals Committee through formal channels. At the same time, a simplified version, with some technical content removed and made easier to disseminate, appeared in the system's internal publication.

The circulation of internal publications is limited, but their very existence is a form of recognition—something that deserves to be taken seriously.

The abstract version circulated from internal publications, reached some media professionals, and then appeared in a more widely available analytical article, mentioned as a quote.

The article doesn't name anyone; it simply analyzes a phenomenon of "policy disconnect." However, after that overseas media report had already spread widely, those who read this article could easily draw an arrow between the two.

The third measure is the Senate's inspection and research functions.

The Senate’s special committees conduct numerous inspections and research activities each year, going to local areas to understand the situation, compiling reports, and making recommendations—this is a normal work process.

Unlike his previous personal research trip, this time Zhao Lichun, in his capacity as the head of a special committee, organized a special inspection of the business environment in a major economic province in central China, which included Handong.

The inspection team members were carefully selected—including committee members with in-depth research on economic policies, veteran comrades who had worked in Handong and were familiar with the local situation, and several committee members from the business community who had actual investments in Handong and had firsthand experience with the current policy changes. They had data, case studies, and emotional insights to share.

When an inspection team enters Handong, the provincial government must provide a high-level reception, arrange research sites accordingly, and provide truthful information. This is standard practice for Senate inspections, and no local government can or has any reason to refuse.

The reception duties fell to Qi Tongwei.