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

It's 10 p.m. on New Year's Eve.

The Fang Family Ancestral Temple, deep in the Dongshan Mountains, has its blue bricks and gray tiles gleaming with a cold, hard luster under the winter moonlight.

This is not a temple open to the public, but a private ancestral hall of the Fang family. It was originally built in the late Qing Dynasty and rebuilt after the founding of the People's Republic of China. It is only used to worship the ancestors of the Fang family.

The convoy stopped in the open space in front of the temple.

Fang Jingxiu got out of the car, his black overcoat billowing in the cold wind. He looked up at the plaque above the temple gate; the four gilded characters "Fang Clan Ancestral Hall" stood solemnly under the lantern light.

The temple gates opened, and a middle-aged monk in a blue robe came out to greet them. He was Master Mingjing, a resident master of the temple.

He put his hands together in prayer: "Political Commissar Fang, Layman Lin, Director Fang, please come in."

The three of them walked into the courtyard.

The bluestone path was swept clean, and ancient cypress trees stood tall on both sides. The main hall was brightly lit, and more than twenty people were already standing there, all from various branches of the Fang family.

Standing at the very front was an elderly man, ninety years old, with his back straight as a pine tree.

Fang Xinglin is eighty-seven years old this year. He is dressed in a dark gray Zhongshan suit and sits on a grand master's chair in the main hall of the ancestral hall, with a huanghuali cane beside him.

The old man had a straight back, sharp eyes, and an imposing presence even when he wasn't speaking.

Fang Zhenguo and his wife Lin Wanqing stood to the left of the old man, while Fang Jingxiu stood to the right.

Following them were arranged according to seniority: Fang Zhenguo's two younger sisters and their husbands, several cousins, and then the younger generation, totaling more than twenty people.

There aren't many people in the family, but within the Jingjing circle, the Fang family is renowned for its elite members: those in politics hold key positions, those in the military hold high ranks, and those in business are all well-established.

This is the Fang family's philosophy of survival: not pursuing abundant branches and leaves, but striving for each branch to stand tall.

"Is everyone here?" Fang Xinglin asked, his voice loud and clear.

"Everything's ready, Dad," Fang Zhenguo replied.

"Let's begin."

The ancestral hall fell silent. The invited abbot, Master Mingjing, dressed in a golden robe, led four monks into the hall. Sandalwood incense was lit, and wisps of smoke rose, filling the solemn hall with a dignified atmosphere.

Master Mingjing first recited a selection from the Surangama Sutra, his voice deep and resonant, the chanting echoing between the beams and pillars. The experts stood silently with their heads bowed, no one uttering a word.

After the chanting was finished, Master Mingjing turned to Fang Xinglin, put his palms together in a gesture of respect, and said, "General, we may begin."

Fang Xinglin stood up.

Fang Zhenguo and Fang Jingxiu helped him up on either side, but the old man waved his hand and walked to the offering table in the center of the ancestral hall with his cane.

On the altar are the ancestral tablets of the Fang family for five generations, with Fang Xinglin's father at the top. The offerings are arranged meticulously: a whole pig's head, a whole sheep, five grains, and fresh fruit, stacked in layers according to old customs.

Fang Xinglin accepted the three incense sticks handed to him by Master Mingjing, lit them on the ever-burning lamp, raised them high above his head, and bowed deeply three times to the ancestral tablets.

"Ancestors of the Fang family above," the old man said in a steady voice, "this unworthy descendant, Xinglin, along with the entire clan, respectfully informs our ancestors: This year, the nation is prosperous and the people are at peace, and our family is tranquil. Though we are not talented, we have each fulfilled our responsibilities and have not disgraced the family..."

The eulogy was read in a standard, decades-old tradition. But then the old man changed the subject: "May our ancestors bless us so that next year our descendants may each find their place and display their talents."

This is a blunt statement, but it's also true.

Ancestor worship is never just about remembering ancestors; it is also a ceremony to unite the clan and clarify goals.

After the old man stepped down, Fang Zhenguo stepped forward to offer incense. He spoke even less, only saying, "I will not let down my ancestors, nor will I let down my country," before returning to his original position.

When it was Fang Jingxiu's turn, all eyes were on him. He was the most outstanding member of this generation, a division chief who would turn thirty next year, and the future hope of the Fang family.

He could feel the gazes of his cousins ​​behind him—envious, respectful, and complex.

This is what family is.

It's not the kind of backstabbing and intrigue depicted in TV dramas; it's a more realistic and solid community of shared interests.

In places like Jingjing, large families rarely held patriarchal views. They were liberated early and their thinking was more open. More importantly, the key was to support future generations.

It doesn't matter if it's a boy or a girl; what matters is that they can produce talented individuals who can occupy positions in various fields.

He took the incense, lit it, and bowed three times.

Amidst the swirling smoke, he looked up at the black memorial tablets and suddenly remembered many things: the yellowed military medals in his grandfather's study, the stars on his father's epaulets, and his mother's words that a large business empire is unstable without good governance.

This is the burden he has to shoulder.

He spoke, his voice clear and resonant: "Jingxiu will certainly fulfill his duties diligently and bring glory to his family."

Short, but enough.

Then, incense is offered in order of seniority.

The entire process was solemn and respectful; no one spoke, not even the children. This is the rule of a large family—reverence and order are ingrained in their very being.

The sacrificial ceremony lasted an hour and a half. It ended close to five o'clock, and the winter sky was beginning to darken.

The group moved to the council hall on the east side of the ancestral hall, which was the Fang family's fixed routine every Lunar New Year's Eve: ancestral worship followed by a family meeting.

A long conference table was set up in the council chamber, and the seats had already been arranged according to seniority.

Fang Xinglin sat in the main seat, Fang Zhenguo sat in the first seat on the left, Lin Wanqing sat next, and Fang Jingxiu sat in the first seat on the right.

The rest of the people took their seats in turn.

The maid served tea and snacks, then closed the door and left.

"Tell me about it," Fang Xinglin said, picking up his teacup and blowing away the foam. "How have you all been this year?"

This is the annual routine report.

Whether they are involved in politics, the military, or business, members of the Fang family must briefly describe their achievements of the year and their plans for the coming year.

It's not about showing off, it's about sharing resources. If someone encounters difficulties, others will help if they can; if someone has resources, they'll see if they can share them with their own people.

Fang Zhenguo's brother-in-law spoke first: "Dad, our group has done well in expanding its overseas business this year, securing two major projects in Southeast Asia. We plan to enter Africa next year."

"I have an old subordinate who's a military attaché in Africa," Fang Xinglin nodded. "I'll give you his contact information later; you can contact him if you need anything."

"Thank you, Dad!"

Next, the second sister said, "Our school acquired three national key laboratories this year, and we plan to expand our enrollment next year. The only problem is the shortage of faculty and staff dormitories; the city hasn't approved the land yet..."

"Regarding the land," Lin Wanqing began, "I've had someone from Huaxing Group contact you. They just acquired a plot of land near your school, and we can collaborate on its development."

"Thank you, sister-in-law!"

This is the Fang family's operating model: mutual support and common development. One person can go fast, but a family can go far. With people in the military, politics, business, and academia, this network can be woven tightly and firmly.

The atmosphere becomes more relaxed when it's the younger generation's turn.

My cousin just got into law school and says he wants to work for the Supreme People's Court after graduation; my cousin works as an analyst at an investment bank and was the top performer in her team this year.

Fang Xinglin listened attentively, occasionally offering a few insightful comments that were always to the point. Although the old man had been retired for many years, his insight and knowledge remained sharp.

Finally, it was Fang Jingxiu's turn.

"Grandpa, Dad, Mom," he stood up, "This year, I mainly focused on two major projects, both of which made it onto the committee's annual highlight list. Next year, Old Wang from the department will retire, and I... should be able to take over."

He spoke subtly, but everyone present understood that if he could keep up, it was practically a sure thing.

Fang Xinglin nodded in satisfaction: "Good. Jingxiu, you're better than your father was back then. When your father was thirty, he was still the chief of staff of the division."

Fang Zhenguo coughed once but didn't say anything.

"However," the old man changed the subject, "there's something I need to tell you."

Fang Jingxiu's heart tightened.

"You're twenty-nine this year," Fang Xinglin said, looking at him. "It's time to think about your personal life."

There was a moment of silence in the council chamber.

Fang Xinglin continued, "The Fang family has few descendants. In your generation, you are the only male. Your cousins ​​are still young and cannot be relied upon. You must hurry up and have more children to increase the number of descendants in our Fang family."

This is a very traditional way of speaking, but no one present thought it was wrong. Passing down traditions is the most fundamental concern for this kind of family.

Fang Jingxiu remained silent for two seconds.

Then he laughed, not an awkward laugh, but a slightly teasing one: "Grandpa, are you suggesting I shift my work focus from the National Development and Reform Commission to the National Family Planning Commission?"

There was a moment of silence in the council chamber, followed by bursts of laughter.

Even the usually serious Fang Zhenguo couldn't help but smile.

Fang Xinglin was amused and playfully tapped him with his cane: "You little rascal!"

The atmosphere immediately relaxed.

Fang Jingxiu put down his teacup and said in a relaxed tone, "Grandpa, don't worry, you'll have a great-grandson sooner or later. But there's really no rush now. I'm only thirty next year, and I haven't even settled into my position as director yet. If I get married and have children now, my energy will be scattered, and it will only delay things."

He spoke with reason and logic, yet also with the coquettishness of a younger person pleading with an elder: "Besides, having a baby is so expensive these days. Formula, school district housing, tutoring classes... you need to let me save up some money first, right?"

Everyone laughed.

Even Fang Zhenguo shook his head helplessly.

Fang Xinglin was amused by him: "You always have so many twisted theories! Fine, fine, as long as you have your own plans."

"Yes, Grandpa," Fang Jingxiu said with a smile.

The topic was easily glossed over.

The meeting lasted another half hour, mainly to coordinate the resource needs of each company for next year.

Fang Jingxiu listened quietly, occasionally jotting down a few notes.

These are all internal family favors; you help me today, I'll help you tomorrow.

This is the survival strategy of large families: stick together for warmth and rise together.

The family meeting ended close to midnight. People gradually left, with Fang Jingxiu accompanying his parents as they departed last.

Stepping out of the ancestral temple, the chill of the winter night hit me. In the distance, the sporadic sound of firecrackers drifted in; the New Year was fast approaching.

On the way back to the villa, Fang Zhenguo suddenly spoke up: "Jingxiu, you handled things very well today."

Fang Jingxiu looked at his father.

"Don't confront them head-on, don't make promises, and gloss over it with jokes," Fang Zhenguo said. "That's political wisdom."

Fang Jingxiu remained silent.

The car stopped in front of the villa. Fang Jingxiu got out of the car and watched his parents walk into the house, but he didn't immediately follow them inside.

He stood in the cold winter wind and took out his phone.

On the screen, Chen Nuo had sent a message ten minutes earlier: "Brother Xiu, Happy New Year!"

Fang Jingxiu stared at the text for a long time.

Then he typed: "Happy New Year".

He paused, then added, "We'll see each other soon."

After sending the message, he put away his phone and looked up at the night sky.

Fireworks were banned in Jingjing, and the sky was pitch black with only a few scattered stars.

Chen Nuo.

hold on.

Wait until I pave the way for you, wait until I clear away the obstacles for you, wait until I... can hold your hand openly and proudly in front of everyone.

He turned and went inside.

Behind me, the midnight bells rang.

A new year has begun.