After my divorce at thirty, I developed an intelligence network.

This is a warning, and also a reveal of our hand.

It means: I know you have Jiang Yan backing you, but I'm giving her face and won't make things difficult for you this time.

But don't be too arrogant. I've got the rules. If I want to hold you back, I'll always find a way.

Gong Yuelong remained calm and composed: "Section Chief Zhou, rest assured, I will definitely follow the rules and won't make things difficult for you."

Zhou Guopeng looked at him for a few seconds. This kid has potential! He has the guts to take risks and the brains to succeed.

Those few exchanges just now were watertight; he neither lowered his standards nor stood out... This ruthless character who knows when to advance and retreat is a hundred times better than a loud-mouthed fool like Zhao Siyan.

Jiang Yan has probably really struck gold this time.

He suddenly smiled and said, "I'll take care of the paperwork for you. From now on... do a good job."

He opened the drawer, took out the seal, and stamped it onto the documents with a few quick, decisive movements.

Then he handed over the approved materials, saying, "Okay, take it. Follow the procedures from here on out."

"Thank you, Section Chief Zhou." Gong Yuelong accepted the gift with both hands.

Zhou Guopeng waved his hand, picked up his thermos, and stopped looking at him. The meaning was clear: that's enough, you can leave now.

Gong Yuelong took the documents and turned to leave.

He understood every word Zhou Guopeng said.

Threats, warnings, and a hint of apprehension hidden beneath the warnings—apprehension towards Jiang Yan.

Zhao Siyan and Liu Heita are indeed not just street thugs; the people behind them are not simple.

My actions that time, seemingly solving problems at the grassroots level, actually exposed a network of vested interests.

But he doesn't regret it. He had no other choice at the time.

This made him even clearer that he was right to refuse to use Jiang Yan's resources too early.

Today, Zhou Guopeng is giving face to General Manager Jiang, not to Gong Yuelong.

Gong Yuelong walked slowly in the corridor on the third floor of the district construction committee building.

The walls are yellowed, and the signs on both sides read "Planning Department" and "Quality Supervision Station"... They look a bit old.

Occasionally, people would come and go, their footsteps sometimes hurried, sometimes slow, and the sound of them talking on the phone would leak out from under the door, with a affected tone.

This building is quite old, and there's a musty smell in the air.

In this somewhat cramped space, countless stamped papers determine one's livelihood on the construction site outside.

It also determines whether people like Zhao Siyan can get food, and whether someone like Gong Yuelong has a chance to rise higher.

Power is not always glamorous.

Sometimes, it hides behind these worn-out doorplates, like the air in the building—invisible, yet omnipresent.

Gong Yuelong walked out of the drab building, turned around, and looked back.

The building is still the same building, with gray walls and old windows.

A few minutes ago, he came out of there with a permit stamped in red in his hand.

But looking at it now, it feels a little different.

Vehicles frequently enter and exit the courtyard.

A black Audi A6 slowly drove in. A short while later, a white Land Rover pulled out; the driver, a portly man with a gleaming watch on his wrist, was smiling and talking into the phone:

"Li Ke, don't worry, everything's arranged for tonight, he'll definitely be there..."

Another slightly old Passat pulled up, and a man carrying a briefcase got out. He walked quickly into the building, straightening his shirt collar as he looked up at a window.

Gong Yuelong's gaze swept over the cars and the people.

He suddenly had a very clear feeling: he was standing on a dividing line.

On one side of the line is a world like Zhao Siyan and Liu Heita's, where people wrestle in the mud for food, a barbaric land where they rely on their fists to earn a living.

On the other side of the line lies the world of order represented by this building, woven from rules, qualifications, permits, personal connections, and interests.

Previously, he could only watch from afar across this line, occasionally being shrouded in its shadow or driven away by it.

Today, he relied on himself to cross the threshold and complete a compliant transaction inside.

"So this is what it feels like to get something from inside," he thought to himself.

Looking at that building, his thoughts were no longer just about making money to pay off debts, but rather:

One day, I will no longer be the kind of person who needs to read between the lines to get things done.

It's not about brute force, but about strength.

He took one last look at the gate of the district construction committee, turned around, opened the car door, and got into the driver's seat.

The car slowly drove out of the compound and merged into the traffic on the main road.

The wind blowing in through the car window was hot and dry, but Gong Yuelong felt his mind clear and understood many things.

"No wonder everyone wants to squeeze through that door," he thought to himself, "and it's not just for a permit."

He used to earn money in the labor market and on construction sites, money earned through sheer hard work and sweat—a clear and heavy experience.

I have a rough idea of ​​how much I can dig out, but that number is too small and the process is too slow.

But what he got in that building in less than an hour was different.

That wasn't earned through his sweat, or at least not entirely.

"Even just getting close to such a place, or even just touching the edge, makes the air feel different."

He said this to himself silently.

It's not that the air is fresher, but that the air is now filled with opportunities and information.

You need to learn to discern and to exchange, but once you get the hang of it, the speed and manner of your growth will be unimaginable in that wild and untamed world outside.

……

……

After Gong Yuelong left, the door to Zhou Guopeng's office remained ajar.

He didn't return to his seat, but strolled to the window and looked down at the courtyard.

Two clerks—Old Ma and Little Qin—took in quietly.

Old Ma picked up a damp soft cloth from the corner of the table and carefully wiped the gleaming surface again.

Xiao Qin quickly went to the water dispenser, replaced the water bottle, and tested the water flow.

Zhou Guopeng, seemingly oblivious, turned his back to them and slowly said, "Those two good-for-nothings, Zhao Siyan and Liu Heita... had their limbs broken and paid compensation. They're officially expelled from this area from now on."

Old Ma, his hands still busy, chimed in, "Yes, I heard from the construction site down there that it's pretty bad. That Gong Yuelong... he's ruthless."

"Black?" Zhou Guopeng turned around. "Zhao Dehai's petty tricks of bullying the weak and fearing the strong, and Liu Heita's brute strength that only dares to bully honest people, do they deserve to be called black? They're just stupid."

He walked back to the table and sat down. "I was taken to a barbecue stand and my hands and feet were dismembered right in front of me. I didn't even have a proper chance to resist. People like this should have been dealt with long ago. They're just taking up space and making us a laughingstock."

Xiao Qin glanced at Zhou Guopeng's expression and cautiously interjected:

"However, Zhou Ke, this Gong Yuelong seems to be a ruthless character, and President Jiang has also given us instructions... Shouldn't we be on guard?"

Zhou Guopeng glanced at him, didn't answer, and instead asked, "Did you look at the materials he just submitted?"

Old Ma immediately said, "I glanced at it, and all the agreements are complete, the signatures are all there, and the format is flawless."

"That's it." Zhou Guopeng picked up the thermos, blew on it, and said, "Ruthless, but not reckless."

He knew to first establish proper etiquette. Compared to Zhao Siyan, who only knew how to shout, and Liu Heita, who only knew how to resort to violence, he was far more sophisticated.