Official title: Refused to stay at the university, started his career in a rural town.

After Wu Xiang finished speaking, the air in the office froze for three seconds.

Zhao Ruilong suddenly stood up, grabbed the ashtray on the table, and smashed it hard on the ground.

boom!

Glass shards were scattered all over the ground. The old yellow dog heard the noise outside the window and barked.

In the office on the second floor, a bunch of heads poked out from the door, but Xiao Chen, who had already given instructions, persuaded them all to go back inside.

"You're asking for it, aren't you!"

Zhao Ruilong's face turned bright red, and a few strands of his slicked-back hair fell down.

"Secretary Wu Xiang—and you, Yang Fan, right?"

He pointed at Yang Fan with his finger, then at Wu Xiang.

"I fucking never expected this! In such a vast plain as Handong, there are two such awesome people hidden in some remote corner."

His voice suddenly lowered, becoming deep and heavy.

"Let me tell you—in Handong, in front of me, Zhao Ruilong, no one is allowed to act arrogantly!"

He slammed his hand on the desk.

boom.

The enamel mug bounced and rolled onto the ground, spilling tea everywhere.

"I'm putting this out there! I hope—before my car reaches Jingzhou, I'll hear an apology on the phone and obediently deliver the documents. If you do, I, Zhao Ruilong, will let you off the hook. But if… well, hmph!"

He straightened up, adjusted his suit collar, and a smile appeared on his lips.

"You'd better watch yourselves! Oh, those two now, Secretary Wu and Mayor Yang!"

He turned and left.

The leather shoes crunched on the broken glass, and the door was pulled open, slamming against the wall with a bang.

Du Bozhong did not immediately follow.

He stood at the door, looked back at Wu Xiang, then at Yang Fan, his smile on his thin face still lacking any real depth.

"Secretary Wu, Mayor Yang."

The two of them looked at him.

"Young Master Zhao has a bit of a temper, but he's not a bad person. He genuinely wants to be your friend."

Du Bozhong's tone was exactly the same as yesterday, like a recording playing back.

"It's okay for people to make mistakes when they're momentarily confused. As long as they correct them in time, they're still good comrades!"

He paused.

"It doesn't matter who runs the cooperative, right? The people will benefit to some extent anyway, won't they?"

Yang Fan looked at him.

"Mr. Du, who runs the cooperative really makes a difference."

Du Bozhong's smile faded slightly.

"Alright, think it over carefully!"

"Both of you leaders are still very young, and you have a long road ahead of you. Don't ruin your bright future because of a moment of folly!"

He turned and left, his footsteps fading into the distance in the corridor.

The sound of the Audi starting up came from the yard, the engine roaring louder than yesterday, the foot on the accelerator slamming all the way to the floor.

The tires rolled over the concrete, and the car went far away.

Only Wu Xiang and Yang Fan remained in the office. Xiao Chen, who had come in to clean, was chased out by the two of them.

Broken glass littered the floor. An enamel mug lay overturned, tea seeping into the cracks of the cement floor.

Wu Xiang squatted down and picked up the enamel mug. A piece of porcelain was chipped off the mug, revealing the gray-black iron core inside.

He stared at it for a long time.

"Old Yang."

"Um."

"This ashtray is broken!"

Yang Fan remained silent.

Wu Xiang put the jar on the table, sat back in his chair, and outside the window, the old yellow dog, seeing that nothing was wrong, quietly lay back down on the threshold.

"I called home last night," Wu Xiang said, his voice a little hoarse. "He asked me why I came to Qingping in the first place."

Yang Fan looked at him.

"I said, 'Promotion!' He said, 'Then you should follow Zhao Ruilong; you'll get promoted even faster.'"

Wu Xiang's lips twitched.

"But I thought about it for half the night—I've been running around in Qingping for a year, could it be that the approval of those leaders and the smiles of the people were fake?"

He looked up at Yang Fan.

"Taking a bullet for protection is not gilding your resume, bearing a whistleblower's letter is not gilding your resume, and negotiating regulations with ordinary people is not gilding your resume."

"Yang Fan, even if I, Wu Xiang, am just someone who takes a bullet, this bullet—I'll take it willingly!"

Yang Fan's Adam's apple bobbed.

He picked up the enamel mug and found the water was cold. He stood up, picked up the thermos, and refilled Wu Xiang's mug with hot water, then refilled his own.

"Secretary Wu."

"Um."

"The question your family asked you is the same question I've asked myself."

Wu Xiang looked at him.

"The principal offered me a position at the university: three years as an associate professor, six years as a full professor. I refused! I came to Qingping not to gain prestige, not just to go through the motions! I genuinely wanted to accomplish something. After these two years, I don't want our promising future to be ruined. If I did, I would be a sinner to Qingping Township!"

He picked up the jar and blew away the tea leaves.

"We're all here to do something."

The two bumped the jar together.

The enamelware clashed with the enamelware, producing a dull thud.

Outside the window, white smoke billowed from the chimneys of the Hengtong factory. In the tea garden, tea bushes were sprouting new buds, a tender green layer covering the slope. Old Wang, carrying a hoe, walked past in the yard, saw the two men sitting in the office, and raised his hand in greeting.

Yang Fan nodded to him.

Wu Xiang drank the tea in the jar in one gulp.

"Old Yang."

"Um."

"Zhao Ruilong said to wait for our call before he arrives in Beijing."

"I heard you."

"Tell me—should we fight or not?"

Yang Fan held the jar, looking out the window. Zhao Ruilong's Audi had already rounded the foot of the mountain and disappeared from sight. A cloud of yellow dust rose from the dirt road and slowly settled.

"He's dreaming!"

Wu Xiang burst into laughter.

"Yeah, he's dreaming!"

He slammed the enamel mug onto the table.

"Let's see, these dark clouds in the sky over Handong, are they really going to block out the sun?"

Yang Fan smiled too.

"Secretary, you said that."

"What's wrong with what I said?"

"I must write this down to constantly remind myself: dark clouds may obscure the sun for a time, but they cannot change the color of the sky! The vicissitudes of life are the true path of humanity!"

Wu Xiang paused for a moment, then burst into laughter. His hearty laughter aroused the curiosity of many people in the township government, who wondered what was wrong with the Party Secretary and the Township Head.

Outside the window, Zhao Ruilong's car was no longer visible.

But Yang Fan knew—this was just the beginning!

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

After a four-hour drive, the Audi finally arrived at Zhao Ruilong's residence in Longhua Manor, Jingzhou.

Still half asleep, Zhao Ruilong looked at the familiar manor, then at Du Bozhong, who remained silent in the car.

His face was so dark it almost shone; the pleasant feeling of waking up was instantly overshadowed by his anger.

"Old Du, they're not responding?"

Zhao Ruilong was incredulous; he never expected that two low-ranking officials would actually dare to ignore him!

"No!"

Du Bozhong answered softly, taking a step back.

"Listen up! Handong won't tolerate such arrogant behavior. Go, send someone to teach them a lesson! Let them know who's above the law!"

"Damn it, two stubborn kids popped out of this remote, impoverished mountain village!"