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

He arranged a detailed reception plan and selected research sites that were all new projects and industries promoted by the province in recent years, places that could clearly demonstrate the development achievements of Handong. At the same time, he ensured that all data provided to the inspection team was true and verifiable.

Some members of the inspection team nodded, some continued to ask questions, and some raised some rather pointed questions at certain research sites—not deliberately difficult, but the kind of pointed questions that showed they truly understood the situation and knew where to ask them.

Qi Tongwei accompanied him throughout the entire process, answering every question accurately, with data and evidence, without beating around the bush or dodging the issue.

The inspection concluded, and the inspection report was submitted according to procedure.

The report was worded neutrally, using the balanced language typical of Senate reports, acknowledging achievements while also pointing out some "issues that need attention," one of which concerned "the stability of the policy environment."

This opinion, though vaguely worded and with unclear boundaries, was written into the report and became a publicly available written record endorsed by the Senate.

The last and most covert approach was related to the Senate's historical research.

The Senate has a traditional function called the collection of historical and cultural materials, which involves compiling and preserving important historical figures, events, and decisions through the oral accounts and written records of those involved. This can be considered a kind of living historical archive.

During his time working in Handong, Zhao Lichun personally witnessed some important development milestones. He has a wealth of firsthand information, including meeting minutes from that year, the process of policy discussions, and the background information before and after the introduction of those major decisions.

He instructed his secretary to contact an influential historical and cultural publishing institution within the Senate system, expressing his intention to compile a batch of historical materials from the reform and development period of Handong and publish them in the form of historical and cultural documents to preserve records.

This matter carries no political risk whatsoever; on the contrary, it's something the Senate encourages and all parties will applaud. Organizing history and preserving memories is a positive endeavor, something responsible veterans should do.

The materials, when compiled, form a local history of reform and opening up in Handong. Every event recorded in it is true and can be verified by documents from that time, presenting a continuous and logically consistent picture of development.

Once this local history is published, it will become an objective frame of reference—any evaluation of Handong's recent history must be conducted in accordance with this frame of reference, and any attempt to erase Handong's past achievements will appear pale in the face of this batch of materials.

Under Zhao Lichun's instructions, the contact and preparation work proceeded rapidly, at a speed that far exceeded the normal publishing process. In half a month, the matter would enter the public eye.

While these matters were being arranged and advanced, Zhao Lichun returned to Handong again in a private capacity.

He did not act in an official capacity, nor did he notify the local authorities. He simply said that he was visiting some old friends, and incidentally donated a batch of books to a university, and attended a small donation ceremony.

The ceremony was brief, with no speeches from leaders, no media coverage, only an elderly dean from the school shaking hands with him and saying a few words of thanks.

Then they left without spending the night in Handong.

However, quite a few people in the officialdom of Handong knew that he had arrived.

He came, quietly, without doing anything or saying anything, but he still arrived.

This in itself is a declaration of existence.

Tell everyone: I'm still here, I haven't left, and I still care about this land.

The news of Zhao Lichun's return spread the next day.

After listening to Bai Jingwen's report, Sha Ruijin remained silent for a moment before saying, "Understood."

He didn't have anyone investigate who he met or what he said, as it was pointless—Zhao Lichun's every move here was calculated, and there was absolutely no leverage to be taken advantage of. Investigating would only be a waste of effort and might even lead to accusations of spying on a senior deputy-level comrade, giving others ammunition against him.

But that evening, Sha Ruijin stayed in his office until very late.

He laid out each of these actions before him in his mind, like setting up a game of chess—the foreign media report, the proposal in the Senate system's internal publication, the opinion on policy stability in the inspection report, the local development history of Handong that was being prepared, and this low-key return home.

Every single one of these matters was within his authority or his legitimate sphere of influence, and was beyond reproach and irrefutable.

But taken together, they form a net, a net pulled taut from different directions. At each node of this net, a question awaits Sha Ruijin—what exactly are you doing in Handong? Are your actions governance or purge? Do you have feelings and a sense of responsibility towards Handong, or are you only here for a mission?

No one asked him these questions openly, but they lingered in the air, in the meeting room, and in the minds of those who always had a serious expression but whose eyes held something hidden.

Sha Ruijin went through all these things, then stood by the window and looked outside.

The direction of Shuntian is too far away to see or feel.

But there was something he sensed.

He was an old man who had been immersed in officialdom for decades, using the experience, connections, resources, and wisdom he had accumulated throughout his life to wage a battle he excelled at.

It wasn't a direct confrontation; it was a subtle, insidious attack, a gradual, insidious process, like boiling a frog in warm water. It was an unseen hand, working behind the scenes to shape public opinion, slowly erode his political credibility, and gradually make everyone—including his superiors—begin to doubt his judgment.

Zhao Lichun doesn't need to win; he just needs to make Sha Ruijin lose.

All we need to do is let this matter drag on, and let time become Sarrijin's enemy.

And time is indeed becoming Sarrijin's enemy.

He picked up his personal cell phone on the table, scrolled through it, but didn't see the message he wanted to see—there was still no new progress from the Discipline Inspection Commission.

He put down his phone, stood up, and walked to the window.

Outside the window, the horizon in the direction of the sky was flat and black in the night, and nothing could be seen.

-

A few days later, the Senate inspection report raised "issues requiring attention," which required the provincial government to provide a formal written response within a specified timeframe.

This matter fell to Qi Tongwei's desk.

Qi Tongwei glanced at it and then said to Liao Qingyuan:

"Send it to Secretary Sha for approval first."

Chapter 191 Blade Turns In

Before the Senate's inspection report could be released, another major event suddenly occurred, causing a huge uproar in the officialdom of Handong.

Liu Changsheng has resigned!

His resignation was submitted in the most peaceful manner.

It wasn't an official document or a formal letter; it was his secretary, Fang Qing, who contacted the director of the provincial party committee's general office privately, saying that Governor Liu's health condition did not allow him to continue performing his duties, and requesting that the organization process his written resignation according to procedure.

The resignation letter was handwritten by Liu Changsheng. It was short, only two pages. The first page mentioned his health condition, and the second page offered suggestions for the handover of his work. His tone was calm, and his wording was appropriate. Every word was carefully considered. He was neither humble nor ostentatious. He was a man who had been immersed in the system for decades, and he did what he had long been prepared to do in the most mature way.

After the report was submitted, the process started.

The Provincial Party Committee convened a Standing Committee meeting to hear an explanation from Provincial Party Secretary Sha Ruijin regarding the adjustment of the main leadership positions of the Provincial Government. The Standing Committee members expressed their opinions one by one. Procedurally, it was a collective decision, but in reality, it was a result that had been coordinated in advance. There were no disputes or surprises, and the meeting minutes show that it was passed unanimously.

On the same day, a report was submitted to superiors.

The approval from higher authorities came almost two days faster than expected, indicating that the process was already underway at a higher level before the provincial party committee standing committee submitted the report.

The appointment document has been officially issued:

Comrade Liu Changsheng will no longer serve as Deputy Secretary of the Provincial Party Committee and Governor of Handong Province due to health reasons, but will retain his status as a member of the Provincial Party Committee. He will undergo retirement procedures in accordance with regulations. (PS: Retirement due to illness will not result in being assigned to a second-tier position.)

Comrade Qi Tongwei will no longer serve as a member of the Standing Committee of the Hantong Provincial Party Committee and Executive Vice Governor of the Hantong Provincial Government; he will be appointed as Deputy Secretary of the Hantong Provincial Party Committee; and nominated as a candidate for Governor of the Hantong Provincial People's Government.

The Standing Committee of the Provincial People's Congress then convened a meeting and, in accordance with the law, approved the appointment of Comrade Qi Tongwei as acting governor.

Then came the oath-taking ceremony. Qi Tongwei placed his left hand on the Constitution, raised his right fist with his thumb pointing upward and his four fingers together, in a standard and unhurried manner.

The conference room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

He spoke, his voice clear and neither too loud nor too soft, reciting the oath word by word:

"I solemnly swear: to be loyal to the Constitution of the People's Republic of China, to uphold the authority of the Constitution, to perform my statutory duties, to be loyal to the motherland and the people, to be dedicated to my duties, to be honest and upright, to accept the supervision of the people, and to strive for the building of a prosperous, democratic, civilized, and harmonious socialist modern country!"

(PS: Before 2018, there were only four words: prosperous, democratic, civilized, and harmonious. The amendment in 2018 added "beautiful".)

On the afternoon the meeting ended, the news spread throughout the provincial party committee compound. It spread so quickly that even the details were accurate—the date of approval, the date of signing, and the wording of the official document were all frantically disseminated through different channels.

That evening, several office lights in the provincial party committee and government office building remained on until late at night.

The day after the official appointment was issued, Qi Tongwei's newly appointed governor's office began to see more visitors who were not usually there.

Several mayors from prefecture-level cities came to report on their recent key work. The appointment times were arranged in order, and each of them had contacted Liao Qingyuan in advance. Each of them brought well-prepared materials. They arrived, reported, answered questions, made statements, and left.

But everyone who came, after finishing their formal presentations, said one more thing before getting up to leave.

Everyone uses different wording, but the meaning is similar:

"Governor Qi, if you have any needs in the future, please let us know, and we will fully support you."

Several department heads came ostensibly to request instructions on specific business matters, but those matters could have been resolved through normal document processing and did not require a special visit. They came to make an appearance, to let Qi Tongwei see them, to see when and with what attitude they were there.

Liao Qingyuan compiled the records of these visits into a short list and placed it on Qi Tongwei's desk without adding any comments.

Qi Tongwei glanced at the list, put it away, and said nothing.

He knew what their arrival meant.

In the nearly one year since Sha Ruijin arrived, the officialdom in Handong has been in a state of high tension. The pressure of anti-corruption, the uncertainty of personnel, the ripples caused by foreign media reports, and the shock brought about by the Xiao Gangyu case—all these combined have left many people feeling overwhelmed.

They need a safe haven to be near.

The feeling that Sha Ruijin gave them was that of a storm itself.

Qi Tongwei gave them the feeling of a rock in a storm—perhaps not completely blocking the wind, but at least solid, stable, and something they could hold onto.

He understands this aspect of human nature and does not reject this closeness.

But he had a clear line in his mind: he was not a safe haven; he was the governor, the acting governor, someone appointed by the Party and the state to do things, not someone to take in defectors.

So he accepted those visits, listened carefully to those reports, and thoroughly discussed the work-related issues with each person who came, clearly explaining the next requirements before letting them go back to work.

Getting close is acceptable, but there are prerequisites: first, do your job well; second, be clean yourself.

His office is not a place where filth and dirt can hide.

-

Meanwhile, on the sixth floor of the provincial party committee building, in Sha Ruijin's office, something was also brewing.

It was a growing, increasingly heavy silence.

Liu Changsheng's departure meant he lost an opponent, but it also meant he lost a card he could continue to play.

As for Gao Yuliang, Tian Guofu has confirmed that he is clean in all the matters that can be found out—the food city is a legacy of history, and Crescent Lake is a policy mistake, but neither of these matters warrants criminal prosecution.

It is even less likely to implicate Zhao Lichun.

Gao Yuliang voluntarily wrote a self-criticism, but Sha Ruijin suppressed it, treating it as a reconciliation acceptable to both parties. That door, from that day on, was closed, and without new discoveries, there would be no chance to open it again.

On Zhao Lichun's side, foreign media reports, Senate inspection reports, proposals in internal publications, and the local history of Handong that was being prepared—each of these things subtly eroded his political credibility.

It's not deep, but the repeated cuts accumulate and become a continuous drain.

Xiao Gangyu, however, is still carrying the burden.

In his last report, Tian Guofu said that Hou Liangping had tried several methods, including information from Liang Lu's side, analysis of the prisoner's dilemma, and hints about the Zhao family's movements, but none of them had managed to pry open that door.

Xiao Gangyu's psychological defenses were stronger than expected, or rather, his belief that "Secretary Zhao is a kind person" had never collapsed.

Of the three roads, two are closed, and the third has no exit yet.

Sha Ruijin sat in that chair, turning the chessboard over and over in his mind, looking at it many times, each time seemingly circling back to the same place, the same name.