Nominal: My senior brothers are all big shots

Yang Xuefeng called second, asking when Secretary Lin was leaving so he could organize a farewell party. Lin Feng said to skip the formalities and just leave quietly. Yang Xuefeng disagreed, saying, "Secretary Lin, you've done so much for Pingjiang; the people of Pingjiang can't leave without showing their appreciation." Lin Feng paused for a moment, then said, "Let's keep it simple then, don't disturb too many people." Yang Xuefeng agreed.

Zhao Tiejun was the last to receive the news. He was planting trees in the mining park when people from the town government rushed over, panting, and said, "Master Zhao, Secretary Lin is being transferred." The shovel in Zhao Tiejun's hand fell to the ground with a dull thud. He stood there, stunned for a long time, then squatted down, picked up the shovel, and continued digging. His hands were trembling; after a few digs, he couldn't dig any further. He squatted there, head down, shoulders shaking.

On the day he left, Lin Feng woke up before dawn. He stood by the window, gazing at the gray sky outside, feeling empty inside. Su Wanqing was still asleep, and Lin Nianzhou was asleep too. He didn't wake them, but dressed alone and went out.

Old Zhou was already waiting downstairs. Lin Feng got into the car and said, "To the mining area." Old Zhou glanced at him in the rearview mirror, didn't ask why, and started the car.

The car drove out of the municipal party committee compound and down the street he had walked for five years. The plane trees lining both sides of the street had grown very tall, their branches and leaves so thick they blocked out the sun. Under the trees, elderly people were doing their morning exercises, children were running around, and young mothers were strolling with strollers. Everything was quiet and peaceful, like the daily life of this city. Lin Feng looked out the window, remembering what it was like when he first came to Pingjiang. Back then, there were no plane trees on the streets, only dusty cement roads and dust filling the air. Back then, ordinary people dared not speak up, officials dared not take charge, and even when disciplinary committee members went to investigate cases, some dared to follow and threaten them. Now, things have changed. The plane trees have grown tall, ordinary people dare to speak up, officials dare to take charge, and Pingjiang has changed.

The car drove out of the city and onto a mountain road. The road was newly paved, with a smooth asphalt surface. Trees lined both sides of the road, some already quite tall, others still striving to grow upwards. Lin Feng looked out the window, recalling Zhao Tiejun's words, "When these trees grow up, Pingjiang will truly change." Now, the trees have grown, and Pingjiang has changed.

They arrived at the mining park. Lin Feng got out of the car and stood by the lake, gazing at the distant, rolling mountains. The lake was as calm as a mirror, reflecting the blue sky, white clouds, and weeping willows on the shore. The peach trees by the lake were in bloom, their pink petals floating on the water, a beautiful sight. He stood there for a long time.

Footsteps sounded behind him. Lin Feng turned around and saw Zhao Tiejun leading a group of miners. They were all dressed in clean clothes, some even wearing leather shoes, clearly dressed up specially for the send-off. Zhao Tiejun walked at the front, holding a banner in his hands, red with gold lettering that read—"A Good Secretary of the People of Pingjiang."

"Secretary Lin, this is a small token of appreciation from the people of Pingjiang mining area. Please accept it." Zhao Tiejun's voice trembled as he handed over the banner, his hands shaking. Lin Feng took the banner, his eyes reddening as he looked at the words on it. "Master Zhao, I can't accept this banner. The Pingjiang project wasn't done by me alone; it was a collective effort." Zhao Tiejun shook his head. "Secretary Lin, please don't refuse. This is everyone's heartfelt sentiment. If you don't accept it, we won't be able to live with ourselves."

Lin Feng didn't refuse again. He accepted the banner, holding it in his hands as if it were a mountain. Zhao Tiejun looked at him, his lips trembling, wanting to say something, but swallowed it back. After a long while, he spoke, his voice very soft, as if squeezed from his chest. "Secretary Lin, we will miss you."

Lin Feng's tears finally streamed down his face. He didn't wipe them away, letting them flow. "Master Zhao, I'm also reluctant to leave you all. But the organization has made arrangements, and I can't refuse. The affairs of Pingjiang will depend on you from now on."

Zhao Tiejun nodded without saying a word. The miners behind him also remained silent, simply standing there, watching Lin Feng as if trying to etch his image into their hearts.

Lin Feng took a letter from his briefcase. It was from the prison, written by Zhou Mingyuan. He had already read it in the car and wanted to read it again. He unfolded the letter; Zhou Mingyuan's handwriting was very neat, each stroke like an inscription.

"Secretary Lin: Hello. This is Zhou Mingyuan. I've been writing this letter for a long time, many times, and I don't know how to begin. I studied law in prison for three years and passed the legal professional qualification exam. I've decided that once I'm released on parole, I want to become a legal aid lawyer, serving those who can't afford to litigate. I know that the crimes I committed are serious, and I've hurt many people; I can never repay them in this lifetime. But I'm willing to spend the rest of my life making amends. Thank you for letting me understand what law, justice, and what it means to be a useful person are. I wish you success in your work and good health. Zhou Mingyuan, from prison."

Lin Feng finished reading the letter, folded it neatly, and put it back in the envelope. He looked up at the distant, rolling mountains and took a deep breath. A mountain breeze blew by, carrying the scent of flowers and earth. Spring had arrived; spring in Pingjiang was beautiful.

He turned around and said to Zhao Tiejun, "Master Zhao, I'm leaving. Take care."

Zhao Tiejun nodded without speaking. Lin Feng got into the car, and Lao Zhou started the engine, slowly driving out of the mining park. Lin Feng sat in the back seat, holding the banner in his hands, gazing out the window. Zhao Tiejun and the miners stood by the roadside, watching him. The car drove further and further away, their figures growing smaller and smaller until they finally disappeared into the morning mist.

The car entered the highway and headed towards the provincial capital. Lin Feng leaned back in his seat, his eyes closed. He recalled his early days in Pingjiang, the letters of complaint, the ledgers, the photos, the faces weeping in court, Zhao Tiejun's words, "My son would be happy if he saw this forest," Zhou Mingyuan's statement, "I want to be a legal aid lawyer," and Old Su's words, "Your Grandpa Zhou called and said he trusts you with the Pingjiang matter." Those days flashed through his mind like a movie.

He opened his eyes and looked out the window. Sunlight streamed through the clouds, casting a golden glow on the distant fields and villages—a beautiful sight. The mountains and rivers of Pingjiang gradually receded into the distance in the morning light. He took a deep breath, turned his head, and gazed ahead. The provincial capital was almost there.