Nominal: My senior brothers are all big shots

Lei Ming chose a place 30 kilometers outside the city, a farmhouse called Lao Difang.

Hidden in a mountain valley, accessible only by a dirt road lined with dense bamboo groves on either side. The landlady was a distant relative of Lei Ming, and considered reliable. Lei Ming arrived first, inspected the entire courtyard, and then sent his location to Lin Feng.

Lin Feng told Lao Zhou to park the car two kilometers away and walk there. The night was dark, moonless, with only the chirping of insects. Lao Zhou walked ahead, his hands always in his pockets. Lin Feng knew he carried a knife.

The farmhouse is small, consisting of a two-story building and a few single-story rooms.

Several bamboo tables and chairs were set up in the courtyard, and a grape trellis was overhead, with vines densely covering the sky.

Zhao Tiejun sat on a bamboo chair in the corner, a pot of tea in front of him that had gone cold. He was wearing a faded blue cloth jacket, his head was down, his hands were on his knees, his knuckles were thick and his veins were bulging.

Lin Feng walked over and sat down opposite him.

Old Zhou stood at the gate of the courtyard, facing outwards. Lei Ming came out of the house, holding a file folder in his hand. He placed it on the table, nodded to Lin Feng, and then went back into the house.

Zhao Tiejun looked up at Lin Feng. His eyes were red, as if he hadn't slept for days, or as if he had just cried. He didn't speak, but took a plastic bag from his pocket and placed it on the table. The plastic bag was old, with frayed edges, and inside were several account books, a few photos, and a few cassette tapes.

"Secretary Lin, this was left by my son." Zhao Tiejun's voice was hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing against wood.

"Before he had the accident, he gave these things to me and said, 'Dad, keep these things safe. If something happens to me, find a reliable person to hand them over.'"

Lin Feng opened the plastic bag and took out the account books.

The ledger was thin, but it was filled with numbers: dates, quantities, amounts, license plate numbers, and names, each entry clearly written down.

Lin Feng flipped through the pages one by one, his brows furrowing deeper with each page. The ledger wasn't recording ordinary business; it was recording rare earth smuggling. From the mine to transportation, from transportation to processing, from processing to export, every step was documented, and every penny was traced.

Zhao Tiejun took the photos out of the plastic bag again and pushed them in front of Lin Feng. The photos were blurry, as if they were taken secretly, but you could clearly see several people standing on the dock, with a cargo ship behind them piled high with white woven bags. Lin Feng recognized one of them—Zhou Tianming. He was standing in the middle, shaking hands with a man in a suit, smiling happily.

Zhao Tiejun took out the cassette tapes from the plastic bag, placed them on the table, and gently stroked them with his fingers. "These were secretly recorded by my son. He said that some things, if written down, might be seen by others, so recording them on tapes is safer. He said that these contain conversations between Zhou Mingyuan and those people, their discussions about how to smuggle goods, how to bribe officials, and how to deal with those who don't obey."

Lin Feng picked up a cassette tape, looked at it, and put it back. "Master Zhao, have you seen these things before?"

Zhao Tiejun shook his head: "I can't read. My son told me some things, but I don't quite understand them. But I know all the things he said. He worked in the mine for several years, and he saw all those people and all those things."

He paused, then lowered his voice even further: "Secretary Lin, my son told me that Zhou Tianming isn't the biggest boss. He has people behind him. Those people aren't in Pingjiang, they're in the province, even in Beijing. They support Zhou Tianming, and Zhou Tianming gives them money. My son said he investigated for a long time and found some clues, but he didn't dare tell me who they were. He said those people are too powerful, and knowing would be dangerous."

Lin Feng's pupils contracted slightly. "Master Zhao, what else did your son say?"

Zhao Tiejun lowered his head, his shoulders trembling. After a long while, he raised his head, tears streaming down his face. "He said, 'Dad, I know I don't have long to live. But I can't die in vain. Give these things to someone I can trust. One day, someone will come and seek justice for us.'"

Lin Feng didn't say anything. He reached out and put the account books, photos, and cassette tapes back into the plastic bag one by one, tied it up, and put it into his briefcase.

"Brother Zhao," Lin Feng's voice was soft but firm, "I'll accept these things. I will investigate your son's matter thoroughly. Those who harmed him will not escape. I will definitely get justice for you."

Zhao Tiejun looked at him, his lips trembling, wanting to say something, but swallowed it back. After a long while, he suddenly stood up and bowed to Lin Feng.

Lin Feng quickly helped him up: "Brother Zhao, what are you doing?" Zhao Tiejun straightened up, tears still flowing, but there was something indescribable in his eyes—expectation, trust, and a deep entrustment.

"Secretary Lin, on behalf of my son, thank you."

Lin Feng grasped his hand and shook it forcefully. "Brother Zhao, go back and live well. I'll come and inform you when there's a result regarding your son's matter."

Zhao Tiejun nodded, turned around and left.

His back was thin and hunched, and he walked very slowly. Lin Feng stood in the courtyard, watching him disappear into the depths of the bamboo forest, feeling as if a stone was pressing on his heart.

Old Zhou walked over and said in a low voice, "Secretary Lin, we should go too."

Lin Feng got into the car. The car drove off the dirt road and onto the main road. Lin Feng leaned back in the back seat, closed his eyes, and Zhao Tiejun's words echoed repeatedly in his mind—"Zhou Tianming isn't the biggest. He has someone behind him."

Who were those people? Were they in the province or in Beijing? What exactly did Zhao Xiaojun find out? Was he silenced because he discovered something he shouldn't have?

He opened his eyes, took out the account books from his briefcase, and flipped through them page by page in the light of the streetlamp. Some of the names recorded in the account books he recognized, and some he didn't. Among the ones he recognized were cadres and entrepreneurs from Pingjiang. As for the ones he didn't recognize, he memorized them.

It was almost midnight when Lin Feng returned to the municipal party committee's residential compound. He didn't sleep; he entered the data from the ledger into the computer, scanned and archived the photos, and recorded the tapes as audio files.

By the time I finished doing all that, it was already dawn.

He stood by the window, gazing at the hazy horizon in the distance, and sent Lei Ming a message: "Ledger received. Zhao Tiejun returned safely."

Lei Ming replied instantly: "Received. Secretary Lin, what do you need me to do?"

Lin Feng thought for a moment and replied, "Check everyone listed in the ledgers. Leave no one out."

Outside the window, the sky was gradually brightening. The morning fog in Pingjiang was thick, obscuring the distance. But Lin Feng knew that what was hidden in the fog would eventually reveal itself.