I slept with my sister's classmate, and she turned out to be my boss.

In Qingshun County, He Ying sat at her desk in her office, a folder open in front of her, but she didn't read a single word.

When Su Wanqing pushed the door open and came in, she looked up.

"County Chief, we have received a message from Director Wei."

He Ying put down her pen: "Speak."

"Fang Mingyuan entered a residential compound in the provincial capital's development zone. He hasn't come out. Director Wei is guarding the entrance, and will arrange for people to go in and check each building one by one first thing tomorrow morning."

He Ying remained silent for a moment.

Is the news confirmed?

"Confirmed. The taxi driver confirmed it, and the name of the residential area where the passenger dropped off has also been found."

He Ying leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling.

Fang Mingyuan entered the residential area but didn't come out, which means he has a place to stay inside.

It could be a friend's house, or someone else's residence.

His choice of that location indicates he felt it was safe.

"Does Secretary Zhou know?"

"You should know by now."

He Ying thought for a moment.

"I'll give him a call."

She picked up the landline on the table, dialed Zhou Mingyuan's number, and the phone rang three times before being answered.

"County Magistrate He?"

"Secretary Zhou, Fang Mingyuan has fled. He left around 2 PM this afternoon, taking a taxi to the provincial capital. The Municipal Commission for Discipline Inspection is pursuing him and has found him in a residential compound in the provincial capital. He went in and hasn't come out. Director Wei is guarding the compound entrance and will go in to investigate first thing tomorrow morning."

"Yes. Fang Mingyuan can't escape."

He Ying understood the meaning behind Zhou Mingyuan's words.

He served as the main leader in Qingshun County for so many years and saw too many people trying to escape, but none of them succeeded.

"Secretary Zhou—"

"Um?"

"Fang Mingyuan has fled. Could anyone in Qingshun County have followed him?"

There was another two seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.

"If someone runs away, it means they're connected to Fang Mingyuan. Running away actually saves trouble. The Discipline Inspection Commission will investigate one by one; no one can escape."

After hanging up the phone, He Ying looked at her phone on the table.

Zhou Mingyuan is right; running away will actually save us trouble.

When Fang Mingyuan runs away, his accomplices will panic.

Panicking leads to mistakes, and mistakes are exposed.

Those who thought Fang Mingyuan could escape would try to help him; those who were afraid of being implicated would try to destroy the evidence.

The Discipline Inspection Commission will just wait.

Su Wanqing was still standing in front of the desk.

"County Magistrate, aren't you going back yet?"

"Wait a little longer."

"Um."

Su Wanqing nodded and turned to leave He Ying's office.

"Director Su—"

Su Wanqing stopped.

"Tell Zhao Gang to send someone to keep an eye on those people in the county who are close to Fang Mingyuan. Don't alert them, just find out what they're doing."

Su Wanqing nodded, turned and left.

……

Meanwhile, in the provincial capital.

Fang Mingyuan hid in a room in the residential complex.

The curtains were drawn tightly shut, and not a single ray of light could get in.

He dared not turn on the light, afraid of attracting attention.

He didn't bring his phone.

My phone is locked in my office drawer and on silent.

He knew the methods the disciplinary committee used to investigate cases—using mobile phone location tracking and checking surveillance footage to verify license plates.

So he doesn't drive, doesn't make phone calls, and doesn't leave any trace that can be tracked.

Although he knew he couldn't hide it for long, he could at least buy himself a few days.

For some reason, sitting in this dark room, he suddenly felt uncertain again, and he still had no idea what to do.

There were people talking downstairs. The voices were muffled and the content was unclear, but it was clear that there were two people, a man and a woman, who seemed to be chatting or arguing.

Fang Mingyuan listened intently for a few seconds, then relaxed—it wasn't a policeman, nor someone from the Discipline Inspection Commission; it was an ordinary resident.

He mentally went through every step of the day.

I left the county government at 2:10, drove home, picked up my luggage, took a taxi, got on the highway, got off the highway, entered the residential area, went upstairs, and went into my house.

Every step was timed precisely, and every step had a plan.

But he knew that no matter how meticulous the plan, there could be unexpected events.

Will the taxi driver remember him?

Did the community's surveillance cameras capture his face?

Was he seen getting out of the car?

These questions kept swirling in his mind, and he couldn't stop thinking about them.

He suddenly remembered Lao Nie.

He remembered clearly the words Old Nie had sent him: "If you go in, I'll take care of the Fang family; if you make baseless accusations, the Fang family can figure it out themselves."

This is not a threat, it's a deal.

He went to jail, and Lao Nie took care of the Fang family for him; he made things difficult for the Fang family by spreading rumors.

Fang Zhiwen has already been arrested, and Fang Zhiqiang's assets in the provincial capital are also not clean.

If Lao Nie were to lift a finger, the Fang family would truly be finished.

Fang Mingyuan closed his eyes.

He couldn't ask Lao Nie for help.

Lao Nie has already cut ties, so begging won't help; it will only make Lao Nie feel threatened.

What Lao Nie fears most is being implicated. If someone asks Lao Nie for help, Lao Nie will only become more wary and might even take the initiative to report him to the Discipline Inspection Commission to prove his "innocence".

Now, I can only rely on myself.

He opened his eyes, stood up, walked to the window, lifted a corner of the curtain, and glanced outside.

The neighborhood was quiet, with the streetlights casting a dim yellow glow on the empty parking spaces.

Several cars were parked there, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

From the main entrance, he could see the orange light of the guardhouse shining through the glass window.

The old gatekeeper sat inside, head down, as if looking at his phone.

I didn't see any police officers, plainclothes officers, or any suspicious people.

But Fang Mingyuan knew they must be there.

Maybe it's outside the door, maybe it's in the car, maybe it's in some corner of the neighborhood.

He lowered the curtains, walked back to the sofa, and sat down.

I glanced at my watch—8:23 PM.

He's been inside for almost three hours.

Within three hours, people outside should have already tracked his movements—the taxi route, the location where he exited the highway, and the surveillance footage of him entering the residential area.

They should already know he's in this neighborhood.

Fang Mingyuan thought for a moment: Why don't they come in?

Is it still uncertain which building he's in?

Are we waiting for tomorrow to dawn?

Or are they setting up something?

He was planning for tomorrow.

I'll leave early tomorrow morning, just as dawn breaks.

He can't go out too early, because there's no one in the neighborhood then, and he'll be too conspicuous; he can't go out too late, because it'll be light then, and he'll be easily recognized.

Around six o'clock, as dawn breaks, people in the neighborhood will come out for morning exercise, to buy breakfast, or to walk their dogs.

He blended in with those people and was not easily noticed.

He brought two sets of clothes to change into.

One outfit was his usual dark jacket, but he couldn't wear that tomorrow; it was too formal and would make him easily remembered.

The other outfit was a dark blue tracksuit that he had almost never worn. It was bought several years ago and had been sitting untouched in his closet ever since.

Wear that outfit tomorrow, and also put on a hat, pull the brim down, and walk with your head down.

He doesn't talk to anyone, doesn't look at anyone, and doesn't look around. He acts like an ordinary resident, going out to buy breakfast or go out for morning exercise.

Fang Mingyuan stood up again, walked to the window, lifted a corner of the curtain, and looked outside.

This time he looked in the direction of the side door.

There is no guardhouse at the side gate, only an iron gate that is usually closed. There is a card reader next to it, and residents can only enter and exit by swiping their cards.

When Fang Mingyuan came in in the afternoon, he followed a resident in.

The person swiped their card to open the door, and he followed behind, naturally walking in without anyone stopping him.

You can use the same method when you go out tomorrow morning. Wait for someone to swipe their card to open the door, and then follow them out.

No card swiping, no record left, no one notices.

Fang Mingyuan lowered the curtains and walked back to the sofa.

He sat down, placed his travel bag at his feet, unzipped it, and checked it over.

Passport, cash, overseas bank cards, USB drive, and document bag are all there.

He touched the thickness of the file folder; it was still as thick as ever. Inside were all the records of his interactions with Lao Nie—not direct evidence, but materials that could piece together a complete chain of events.

Project approval documents, fund disbursement records, and the time, place, and participants of several private meetings.

These things were his last bargaining chips—to atone for his crimes and perhaps even get a reduced sentence.

However, that was the last step.

Fang Mingyuan zipped up his bag, placed it at his feet, leaned back on the sofa, and closed his eyes.

I went over tomorrow's plans in my mind over and over again—what clothes to wear, which route to take, how to get out, and where to go after I got out.

After leaving, do not go to the train station or the airport.

Those places are too easily captured by surveillance cameras.

First, find a small hotel in the city that doesn't require ID registration to stay in, and then try to contact an agency overseas to arrange your departure.

He wasn't sure if he could succeed.

It's all up to fate...

Fang Mingyuan woke up at four in the morning.

He didn't sleep; he just closed his eyes to rest.

It was still dark outside the window; it was not yet dawn.

He stood up, stretched his stiff body, walked to the window, and lifted a corner of the curtain to look outside.

The neighborhood was quieter now, with the streetlights still on, illuminating the empty streets.

There was no one, no car, nothing at all.

He went to the bathroom, didn't turn on the light, and washed his face using the dim light coming in from the window.

The water was cold, which made him shiver.

He looked at himself in the mirror—he couldn't see his face clearly in the dark, but he knew he must look terrible.

She had deep eye bags, chapped lips, and messy hair.

He reached up and pulled his hair back, but then realized that it would have been better if he hadn't; pulling it back made him look even more disheveled.

Back in the living room, I took my sportswear out of my travel bag and changed into it.

He then took out a black baseball cap from his bag, put it on his head, and pulled the brim down.

He stood in front of the mirror for a while—not to look at himself, but to make sure he didn't look like Fang Mingyuan.

He stuffed all the most important things from his travel bag—his passport, cash, foreign bank cards, USB drive, and document bag—into a small handbag.

The small bag is black, slung across my body, and zipped up.

I don't need the travel bag anymore; it contains a change of clothes and some miscellaneous items, so it's not worth bringing.

He sat down on the sofa and waited for dawn...