Guide to Rising to Power as a Wife in Beijing's Elite Circle

The corridor on the sixteenth floor of the Jingjing Municipal Development and Reform Commission building was covered with a deep red carpet, completely absorbing the sound of footsteps.

Black-and-white photocopies of major policy documents from previous years are hung on the walls on both sides, their glass frames reflecting a cold light.

Fang Jingxiu stepped out of the elevator and walked towards his office.

The dark gray suit was impeccably tailored, with perfectly straight shoulders, a just-right waist, and trousers that fell precisely one centimeter above the ankle. The white shirt collar was crisp, and the silver-gray tie was tied with impeccable precision in a standard half-Windsor knot.

His hair was combed back, revealing a full forehead and sharp eyebrows.

I didn't use hairspray, just a small amount of styling spray to keep my hair neat but not overly stiff.

This hairstyle has an unwritten name within the system: the "official's hairstyle." It needs to look dignified without appearing too old-fashioned.

Several section chiefs I encountered in the corridor stepped aside to make way for me, nodding in greeting.

Good morning, Director Fang.

"Director Fang."

Fang Jingxiu nodded slightly, but did not stop walking.

This is the mystery of the power structure; you can tell at a glance whether someone is part of the system or not.

It's not about clothes or looks, it's about the aura that permeates your very being.

Their posture, gait, gaze, and even the rhythm of their breathing all carry a certain specific rhythm.

Fang Jingxiu has this kind of aura.

Thirty years old, at the level of director-general, the youngest director-general in the National Development and Reform Commission.

He wasn't just a pretty face who rose through the ranks because of his family background. The data he cited when speaking in the meeting room was always accurate to two decimal places; the circles he drew when approving documents were always so perfect that they could be measured with a compass; even the way he flicked his cigarette ash had a textbook-like standard.

This extreme level of internal control is reflected in every aspect.

Open the office hall of the Development and Reform Commission.

Secretary Qin was already waiting at the door, holding a stack of documents awaiting approval. Seeing him enter, she immediately followed: "Good morning, Director. The materials for the 9 o'clock executive meeting are already on your desk, with the key parts highlighted in yellow. Also, the Ministry of Finance just called to say that Director Liu has an unexpected foreign affairs engagement, and this morning's meeting has been rescheduled to 3 pm."

"Understood." Fang Jingxiu took the documents, his steps unwavering. "Is the report for this afternoon ready?"

"It's ready, the second stack on your desk. The financial analysis of Baijia Chenfeng Motors is in Appendix Three, as per your request, without any special markings."

"it is good."

Fang Jingxiu walked into the office and closed the door behind him.

He was the only one left in the office.

Fang Jingxiu then allowed himself to relax for a mere 0.1 seconds, literally only 0.1 seconds.

He walked to the window, didn't draw the curtains, and just stood there, watching the traffic flow on Anning Street below.

Then, he made a very private gesture.

He raised his right hand, placed it on his lower back, and gently massaged it.

acid.

It's not pain, it's the kind of deep-seated soreness that comes from overuse.

Like the muscles the day after running a full marathon, or the brain after a ten-hour meeting.

Fang Jingxiu frowned.

He is exactly thirty years old this year.

According to medical standards, the peak of male physical function is between the ages of twenty and twenty-five.

After twenty-five, the downhill road begins.

And he has already exceeded that critical point.

Even more fatal was that his opponent was only twenty-two years old.

Chen Nuo.

That little girl with inexhaustible energy.

He can work three days straight while filming, and he can keep you up until the early hours of the morning while you're arguing with him. Yet, he can still get up early the next day to go to the set. His eyes always have a sparkle in them.

He recalled watching a movie with Chen Nuo last month; it was a youth campus romance film.

The male and female protagonists on the screen are both in their early twenties, wearing school uniforms, running on the playground, laughing carefree.

Chen Nuo watched with great interest, but he was completely distracted. Those scenes were too far removed from him, as if they were from a past life.

What was he doing at twenty?

I studied economics in college, served as a student leader, and cultivated various connections through my father's arrangements. I had never experienced such a pure love, nor had I ever felt that kind of reckless impulsiveness.

By the time he finally reached a position where he could protect someone, he was already thirty years old.

She was only twenty-two years old, and her life was just beginning.

Fang Jingxiu rubbed his temples.

An unprecedented sense of anxiety crept into my heart without warning.

Seven years.

This gap is not obvious at the ages of twenty and twenty-seven, and may also be manageable at the ages of twenty-five and thirty-two.

But what about at thirty and thirty-seven?

What about at forty and forty-seven?

When he turns fifty and can no longer straighten his back, she will only be forty-three, the most charming age for a woman.

What if... what if he can't satisfy her?

What if she meets someone younger, more energetic, and more willing to go crazy and have fun with her?

What if she gets tired of it, annoyed, and wants to try someone else?

Will she still want him then?

This thought, like a thorn, silently pierced my heart.

Fang Jingxiu turned around and sat down behind his desk.

The mahogany desk was large and heavy, with three stacks of documents neatly arranged on it: pending review, reviewed, and urgent.

He opened the top document, which was an application report from a certain province regarding subsidies for the construction of electric vehicle charging stations.

I read three lines, but couldn't get into it.

My mind is filled with Chen Nuo.

Fang Jingxiu closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was clear again.

But then, without realizing it, he pressed his waist.

"Knock knock—"

A knock came at the door.

Fang Jingxiu immediately sat up straight and said in a steady voice, "Come in."

Secretary Qin pushed open the door and came in, carrying a thermos and a document. He was wearing a dark blue jacket and a white shirt, the standard attire of someone working in the system.

"Boss, this is the final version of the report for this afternoon." He placed the document on the table, paused, and then handed over a thermos. "This is freshly brewed... tea."

Fang Jingxiu glanced at the transparent cup, which was filled with densely packed red goji berries, as well as black maca, cistanche, polygonatum... and even a few pieces of dried seahorse.

"Secretary Qin," Fang Jingxiu looked up, his tone devoid of emotion, "Are you quite free lately?"

Secretary Qin remained unfazed: "Boss, I'm doing this for your own good. For older people like us, if we don't exercise, our kidneys won't be able to handle it. I've been using this formula for years, and it's killed several tigers after I drank it."

Fang Jingxiu: "..."

His expression froze for a moment, but he quickly returned to normal.

Fang Jingxiu tapped his fingers lightly on the table.

Once, twice, three times.

"Do I look weak?" he asked.

Secretary Qin hesitated for a second.

That one second of hesitation made Fang Jingxiu's heart sink.

"Boss, that's not what I meant..." Secretary Qin carefully chose her words, "I meant, Miss Chen Nuo is so young, if you don't take care of yourself, in the long run..."

He didn't finish speaking.

But this time, Fang Jingxiu understood.

It's not a matter of what if she runs off with someone else; it's that your body can't handle it in the long run.

More realistic, more brutal.

He didn't finish speaking, but the meaning was clear.

Fang Jingxiu tightened his grip on the pen.

Seeing this, Secretary Qin knew the time was right and immediately stopped while she was ahead: "I'll leave the cup here, boss. You're busy. Let me know when you're done, and I'll refill it for you."

After saying that, he quickly left and gently closed the door behind him.

The office fell silent again.

Fang Jingxiu stared at the thermos for a full minute.

Then he reached out and unscrewed the lid of the cup.

A strong aroma of Chinese medicine mixed with the sweet fragrance of goji berries wafted over. He frowned, leaned closer to take a look, and saw that besides goji berries, there was also black maca, cistanche, epimedium... all things that nourish the kidneys and enhance male virility.

"..."

Fang Jingxiu closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then picked up the cup, tilted his head back, and drank half of it in one gulp.

The taste... is hard to describe.

It was bitter, sweet, and fishy, ​​like drinking the secretions of some kind of animal.

He forced himself to put down the cup, took several deep breaths to suppress the nausea.

But I have to say, not long after I drank it, the soreness in my lower back seemed to have lessened a bit.

Fang Jingxiu stared at the remaining half cup of the secret recipe in silence.

Then he opened the drawer, put the thermos in, and locked it.

Out of sight, out of mind.

He reopened the files and began working.

But I must say, after half an hour, the soreness in my lower back did lessen.

It's not just psychological; I really do feel more relaxed.