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

Fang Zhiwen's office in Liuhe Town.

10:00 AM.

Fang Zhiwen sat behind his desk, the ashtray in front of him overflowing with cigarette butts.

He smoked twice as fast as usual, one cigarette after another, filling the office with smoke that made people's throats tighten.

The phone screen on the table was lit up, displaying a message from Fang Mingyuan: "The provincial audit team has arrived. Liuhe Town is within the audit scope. On your end, take care of everything that needs to be taken care of."

He stared at the line of text three times.

"Clean it up"—these four words coming from my cousin's mouth meant that the matter had reached a very serious level.

When the county audit team came last time, Fang Mingyuan said he would "just get by."

This time, we're talking about "cleaning up".

Changes in word choice signify changes in attitude.

Dealing with people is about dealing with them; handling things is about dealing with the evidence.

Fang Zhiwen stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes for a while.

He worked in Liuhe Town for ten years.

In ten years, he transformed this town from a mid-level town in the county to the top in terms of economy.

He built the Economic Development Zone single-handedly. Those factories, those roads, those investment projects—every single one bears his heart and soul, every single one is his creation.

But the provincial audit team doesn't care about these things.

They don't just look at development, they also look at accounts. They don't just look at achievements, they also look at problems. And he knows those problems better than anyone else.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Qian Cheng pushed the door open and came in. The smile on his chubby face disappeared, replaced by a look of tension.

He walked to the table, sat down opposite Fang Zhiwen, and placed the folder in his hand on the table.

"Secretary Fang, have you heard about the provincial audit team's situation?"

Fang Zhiwen glanced at him: "I've heard about it."

"This time it's not the county, it's the province." Qian Cheng lowered his voice, fine beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. "The team leader is Meng Qingshan, from the Agricultural Division of the Provincial Audit Office. His nickname is 'Iron Face Meng,' and he's notoriously difficult to talk to."

Fang Zhiwen tapped his fingers twice on the table.

"Last time the county audit team came, we barely managed to get away with it. The acceptance report was 'missing,' the supporting documents were 'lost,' and the contract was 'supplemented later'—Han Bing knew all about these things, but she didn't investigate further. Because she knew that the county wouldn't find anything out when they investigated us."

He paused for a moment.

"But this time it's from the provincial government. People from the province dare to investigate things that Han Bing wouldn't dare to delve into."

Qian Cheng's face turned even paler.

"Secretary Fang, what should we do? Last time, to deal with the county audit team, we supplemented a batch of materials and replaced a batch of contracts. If the people from the province find those things, they'll know immediately that they were added later."

Fang Zhiwen did not answer.

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked down at the courtyard.

Several cars were parked in the town government compound, and a few staff members were moving things, chatting and laughing.

They were unaware that the provincial audit team had arrived, nor that a storm was approaching.

"Qian Cheng," Fang Zhiwen turned around, "After the county audit team left last time, I asked you to go through all the accounts again, to make up for what needed to be made up, to replace what needed to be replaced, and to destroy what needed to be destroyed. Did you do that?"

"It's done." Qian Cheng nodded quickly. "Hongda Trading's contracts have been replaced with a new batch, the invoices have been reissued, and Zhou Deming has signed the acceptance report. Every single expenditure of that 1160 million now has a corresponding contract and invoice. From the books, there's no problem."

"The books look fine, but what about the actual situation?"

Qian Cheng opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything.

Fang Zhiwen stared at Qian Cheng.

"What I want is not 'no problems on the books.' What I want is for the provincial audit team to come and find nothing wrong."

Qian Cheng wiped the sweat from his brow: "Secretary Fang, this... I can't guarantee it. Zhou Deming still has some old documents that haven't been processed. Those transactions from 2019, the original paperwork was incomplete, some were later supplemented, but the supplementary procedures still show signs of..."

Fang Zhiwen's face darkened.

"I'll handle Zhou Deming's side. What you need to do now is go to the Economic Development Zone and go through all the project documents again. Contracts, invoices, acceptance reports, payment vouchers—not a single one can be missing. If the provincial audit team wants to investigate the Economic Development Zone, these documents must be complete and compliant."

"Secretary Fang, what if the provincial audit team wants to visit the site?"

Fang Zhiwen's fingers paused for a moment.

"Want to see it in person?"

"Yes. If they want to see the actual situation of those projects..."

Fang Zhiwen remained silent for a few seconds.

"How many of those projects in the Economic Development Zone actually exist?"

Qian Cheng lowered his head and said in a low voice, "Of the 800 million yuan building materials supply contract with Hongda Trading, less than 300 million yuan was actually delivered. The remaining 500 million yuan... was recorded in the bank account, but no goods were shipped."

Fang Zhiwen tapped his finger heavily on the table.

"500 million yuan, recorded in the bank, but not shipped. If the provincial audit team comes to the site to check the inventory, how will you explain that?"

Qian Cheng wiped his sweat even more frequently: "I... I can arrange for someone to fill the warehouse first. We can find some building materials to pile in and deal with the inspection."

"Can you handle it?"

"If it's just for a look, it should be fine. But if they need to verify the purchase list and inventory records..."

"Then make sure to keep the inventory records as well," Fang Zhiwen interrupted him. "Purchase list, receiving slip, delivery slip, inventory ledger—make the whole set. Make the forgery look more real than the real thing."

Qian Cheng thought to himself, "To make a fake even more convincing than the real thing? That's a load of rubbish. But what's done is done, so I have no choice but to try anything."

He nodded and quickly jotted it down in his notebook.

Fang Zhiwen walked to the door, opened it, and glanced outside. The corridor was empty; no one was nearby. He closed the door, walked back, and sat down opposite Qian Cheng, lowering his voice even further.

"There's one more thing. Keep a close eye on Zhou Min."

Qian Cheng looked up: "Zhou Min?"

"She hasn't been acting right lately. When the county audit team came last time, they dug up those few money transfer records she handled. Although nothing seemed wrong at the time, she looked unwell the whole time. I'm worried she might..."

He didn't finish speaking, but Qian Cheng understood what he meant.

"Secretary Fang, are you saying Zhou Min might..."

"I didn't say anything," Fang Zhiwen interrupted him. "I just told you to keep a close eye on her. You need to know her every move."

"clear."

Qian Cheng stood up and picked up the folder on the table.

"Secretary Fang, I'll head to the Economic Development Zone now."

"Go."

Qian Cheng walked to the door, opened it, paused for a moment, and then turned around.

"Secretary Fang."

"Is there anything else?"

"Did County Chief Fang say anything about the provincial capital?"

Fang Zhiwen glanced at him but did not answer.

Qian Cheng read the answer from his silence, asked no more questions, and turned to leave.

The moment the door closed, Fang Zhiwen leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.

Back in the provincial capital, Fang Mingyuan was looking for someone, but he didn't know if he had found them or not, and even if he had, it wouldn't have made a difference.

Fang Zhiwen picked up his phone, found Zhou Deming's number, and dialed it.

The phone rang three times before being answered.

"Old Zhou, it's me."

"Secretary Fang." Zhou Deming's voice came from the other end of the phone, carrying a deliberately suppressed unease.

"People from the provincial government have arrived. Liuhe Town is within the scope of the audit."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone.

"Secretary Fang, what are we going to do?"

"Get rid of what you have in your hands."

Zhou Deming fell silent.

Fang Zhiwen could hear the breathing on the other end of the phone—rapid, tense breathing, as if someone was trying to control their emotions.

"Old Zhou, you've worked at the finance office for over twenty years. Every single account in Liuhe Town has been handled by you. You have more stuff in your hands than I do. If the provincial audit team comes and finds those things, not only am I finished, but you won't escape either."

"Secretary Fang, I know," Zhou Deming's voice was somewhat hoarse, "but those things..."

"Get rid of it." Fang Zhiwen's voice turned serious. "Within today. Don't wait any longer."

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

"Okay. I understand."

The phone hangs up.

Fang Zhiwen threw his phone on the table, picked up the cigarette pack, and took out another cigarette.

It took him two tries to light the lighter, and his hand was trembling slightly.

He took a deep breath, and smoke billowed from his nostrils, slowly dissipating in front of his eyes.

"Nothing will happen," he told himself.

But another voice is asking – what if something goes wrong?

Finance Office, 11:10.

Zhou Deming sat alone in the finance office.

The windows were closed, and the curtains were half-drawn. The room was dimly lit, and the fluorescent lights were humming.

Several vouchers were spread out on the table in front of him, but he didn't read a single word of them.

Fang Zhiwen's phone call was still echoing in his mind—"Get rid of what you have."

Zhou Deming lowered his head and looked at his hands on the table.

These hands have worked in the finance office for twenty-three years.

He rose from a regular staff member to director, handling hundreds of millions of yuan and signing thousands of vouchers.

He was perfectly aware of every single penny that passed through his hands—which were compliant, which were non-compliant, which were illegal, and which were criminal.

He knew all of that.

But he never said it.

It's not that I don't want to say it, it's that I'm afraid to say it.

Fang Zhiwen's cousin is the executive deputy county head, and the Fang family's influence in Qingshun County is deeply entrenched.

Anyone who offends the Fang family will have no chance of staying in Qingshun County.

So he chose to keep quiet, chose to sign, and chose to be the one who "saw nothing".

But now, the newly arrived county head, He Ying, wants to investigate them, and has even attracted the attention of the provincial audit team.

Zhou Deming stood up and walked to the filing cabinet.

His gaze fell on the bottom cabinet door.

The key was in his pocket; it was metal, cold, and digging into his thigh, causing a dull ache.

He squatted down, took out his key from his pocket, inserted it into the lock, and turned it.

With a "click," the cabinet door opened.

In the bottom shelf of the cabinet, there were several stacks of old vouchers neatly arranged.

The ones from 2018, 2019, and 2020—these are the "fish that slipped through the net".

Before the county audit team came last time, he had intended to get rid of them, but there wasn't enough time. He could only hide them at the bottom and pray that the audit team wouldn't find them.

At the time, he didn't see the county audit team dig it up.

But now the provincial audit team has arrived.

Zhou Deming pulled out a voucher from 2019 and opened the cover.

The first page contains the payment voucher for 50 yuan – "Hongda Trading Co., Ltd.", "Economic Development Zone Road Repair Project", "Contract No. LH-2019-007".

The attachments are still there, the contract is still there, and the acceptance report is still there.

Every page was yellowed, the edges were curled, and the ink had faded somewhat, but the writing was still clear.

Fang Zhiwen's signature, Qian Cheng's signature, and his own signature are all on it.

This piece of paper was handled by him personally.

He knew where the money ultimately went—it wasn't used to buy building materials or repair roads; it went into Zhao Zhiyong's company, changed hands several times, and finally ended up in Fang Zhiqiang's account.

Zhou Deming's fingers slowly slid over the voucher, his fingertips able to feel the texture of the paper—rough, astringent, as if it had been sitting for too long and the pulp had begun to become brittle.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

If these documents fall into the hands of the provincial audit team, Fang Zhiwen is finished, Qian Cheng is finished, and he is finished too.

Fang Zhiwen said, "Get rid of it."

What to do? Burn it? Tear it up? Or hide it in a more secluded place?

The phone rang.

Zhou Deming opened his eyes and glanced at the screen—it wasn't Fang Zhiwen, but Fang Zhiwen's nephew, who also worked in Liuhe Town and was usually responsible for helping Fang Zhiwen with dirty and shady work.

He answered the phone.

"Director Zhou, Secretary Fang asked me to ask you how things are going?"

Zhou Deming was silent for a second.

"It's being processed."

"Hurry up. Secretary Fang said it needs to be resolved today."

"it is good."

The phone hangs up.

Zhou Deming stared at the certificate, his hands trembling slightly.

He recalled a sentence the old director had told him when he first came to the finance office twenty years ago: "Deming, those of us in finance must have steady hands and upright hearts. If your hands are not steady, you can't keep good records; if your heart is not upright, you won't go far."

He remembered it for twenty years.

But when did his hands start to become unsteady?

When did his heart become corrupt?

he does not know.

All he knew was that things had changed from the day Fang Zhiwen came to Liuhe Town as mayor.

Signatures, stamps, fund allocations, bank transfers—everything was compliant, everything had procedures, and everything was "necessary for work."

But what lies behind those "needs"?

Zhou Deming closed the voucher, put it back in the cabinet, and closed the cabinet door.

He stood up, walked to the window, and drew back the curtains.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, making him squint.

He took out his phone and scrolled to a number in his contacts—it was his niece who worked in the provincial capital, in a unit under the provincial audit department.

A finger hovers above the screen.

He wanted to call and ask the provincial audit team what they were investigating in Qingshun County.

But after thinking about it, he didn't hit it.

We can't hit him. If we do, it's like telling others that he's afraid.

Zhou Deming put his phone in his pocket, turned around and walked back to the table.

He sat down, picked up the pen on the table, and wrote a few words on a scrap of paper.

"In 2019, 50, Hongda Trading."

After writing it, he stared at the line for a few seconds, then crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it into the trash can.

……

At 2 p.m., Chen Dapeng was assisting the audit team in organizing materials at the county audit bureau when his phone vibrated.

He took it out and saw that it was a WeChat message from Zhou Min.

"Did you know the provincial audit team is here?"

Chen Dapeng walked into the corridor and replied, "I know. I'm already working with the audit team."

"Fang Zhiwen lost his temper three times today. He smashed a cup in his office this morning, and slammed his fist on the table during a meeting this afternoon. The atmosphere in the entire town government was very tense; no one dared to speak loudly."

Chen Dapeng looked at the text and sneered inwardly.

"How's it going on your end?"

"It's alright. Fang Zhiwen hasn't noticed me yet. But Qian Cheng came to the Economic Development Zone today and asked me to go through all the project documents again. He said the provincial audit team might come to investigate."

Chen Dapeng thought for a moment and typed a line.

Have you thought it through?

The other party remained silent.

Chen Dapeng stared at the screen, watching the "typing" message flash and then disappear, then flash again.

About two minutes later, Zhou Min's reply finally came.

"Wait a little longer."

Chen Dapeng's heart sank as he looked at those three words.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Wait for the right opportunity."

Chen Dapeng did not ask any further questions.

He knew what Zhou Min was afraid of—she had handled too many things, and the price of standing up was too high.

She needs more than just courage; she also needs a reason to "have to stand up."

"Okay. But don't wait too long. The provincial audit team will only be here for half a month, time is running out."

"I know."

Chen Dapeng put his phone in his pocket and turned back to the conference room.

Team Leader Meng was still reviewing the materials. In front of him were three open vouchers, each flipped to the folded corner. Next to them were several sticky notes filled with annotations, some with names written on them.

Team Leader Meng looked up and glanced at him through his reading glasses.

Do you know Zhou Min?

Chen Dapeng's heart tightened, but his expression remained unchanged.

"I know her. I saw her when the county audit team inspected Liuhe Town last time; she works in the Economic Development Zone office."

Team Leader Meng nodded, asked no further questions, and lowered his head to continue reading the materials.

Chen Dapeng walked to the window and pretended to look at the scenery outside.

He noticed that the black sedan in the corner of the parking lot was not there today.

He took out his phone and sent a message to He Ying.

"Fang Zhiwen lost his temper three times today. Zhou Min said the atmosphere in the entire town government is very tense. She's still hesitant, saying she'll wait a little longer."

He Ying replied quickly: "She needs time. Give her time, but don't pressure her."

"clear."

"Also, did Team Leader Meng say anything about the audit team?"

Chen Dapeng glanced at Team Leader Meng's retreating figure and typed: "No. He's been reviewing the materials very carefully. He just asked me if I knew Zhou Min."

He Ying remained silent for a few seconds.

"What did he ask?"

"It was just a casual question. 'Do you know Zhou Min?' I said I did, that I had seen her when the county audit team inspected Liuhe Town last time."

"Didn't he ask anything else?"

"no."

"Okay. Be careful over there. Team Leader Meng is very experienced, so don't give him any clues."

Chen Dapeng looked at the words and the corners of his mouth curved slightly.

"I know."

……

Eight o'clock in the evening, at Zhou Deming's house in Liuhe Town.

The living room lights were off, with only a dim light coming from the kitchen.

Zhou Deming sat alone on the sofa, with a bulging black garbage bag tied up on the coffee table in front of him.

Inside the garbage bag were the original receipts from 2019 to 2020.

He brought it back from the finance office, put it in his briefcase, and kept it hidden all the way, like a thief.

He stared at the garbage bag for a long time.

Fang Zhiwen said, "Get rid of it."

What should I do?

Burn it?

He considered the possibilities in his mind—burning it in the yard would produce too much smoke, and the neighbors would see it. Burning it inside the house risked a fire, and the smoke wouldn't dissipate.

rip off?

Dozens of receipts, hundreds of pages of paper—when will they ever finish tearing them up? Even if they're shredded and thrown in the trash, what if someone finds them?

Hide it?

He had been hiding in the finance office for five years.

No matter how well it was hidden, it was still discovered.

Where could they hide? At home? At work?

Or should we find a place to bury him?

Zhou Deming stood up, walked to the kitchen, opened the cabinet, and took out a bottle of baijiu (Chinese liquor).

I unscrewed the cap and took a sip.

The alcohol was so strong that he coughed twice, and tears welled up in his eyes.

He wiped his mouth, took the bottle back to the living room, sat down on the sofa, and took another swig.

As the alcohol took effect, his mind became even more confused.

He thought about his career.

Twenty-three years ago, he graduated from university and was assigned to the finance office of Liuhe Town. At that time, Liuhe Town was very poor. The streets were full of potholes, the town government building was an old building with drafty windows, and it was freezing cold in winter.

At that time, the finance office only had three people.

He kept the books, the old director reviewed them, and there was a cashier who managed the money.

Every expenditure requires the signatures of three people; missing even one signature is unacceptable.

When the old director retired, he held his hand and said, "Deming, those of us in finance must have steady hands and upright hearts. Remember, don't sign anything you shouldn't sign, and don't approve money you shouldn't approve."

He remembered it.

But then, Fang Zhiwen arrived.

Fang Zhiwen said that we need to develop the economy, establish economic development zones, and attract investment.

Every sum of money has a designated purpose, every sum of money has a formality, and every sum of money has a leader's signature.

He's just an executor, what can he do?

Refuse to sign?

Then don't do it.

Zhou Deming took another swig of wine.

His phone rang, and when he picked it up, he saw it was Fang Zhiwen's number.

I hesitated for a moment, then answered the call.

"Old Zhou, has it been dealt with yet?"

Zhou Deming opened his mouth, his voice slightly hoarse: "It's being processed."

"How far has it progressed?"

"The items have been retrieved. They haven't been processed yet."

"Why hasn't it been dealt with yet?" Fang Zhiwen's voice rose several octaves, tinged with obvious impatience. "Didn't I tell you to deal with it by today?"

"Secretary Fang, these things... twenty years of accounts, burning them is wrong, hiding them is wrong. I..."

"Burning it isn't an option, nor is hiding it. Let's find a secluded spot, dig a hole, and bury it." Fang Zhiwen's voice turned serious. "Old Zhou, are you hesitating?"

Zhou Deming fell silent.

"You've worked in Liuhe Town for twenty-three years. You know better than I which things you handled should be kept and which shouldn't. Keeping these things is like keeping a time bomb. If it explodes, we're both finished."

"I know."

"If you know about it, deal with it immediately. Don't delay any longer."

The phone hangs up.

Zhou Deming threw his phone on the sofa, picked up the wine bottle, and took another big gulp.

The liquor dripped down his chin, staining his shirt and leaving a small, dark mark.

He lowered his head and stared at the black garbage bag.

Twenty years of accounts.

A secret that has lasted for twenty years.

A debt of conscience for twenty years.

He stood up, picked up the trash bag, and went out the door.

He carried the garbage bag downstairs, his steps slow, each one feeling like he was walking on cotton.

He stopped downstairs.

A night breeze blew by, carrying the chill of late autumn, making him shiver.

He stood next to the trash can, holding the black trash bag.

The trash can was right in front of me; it was green, plastic, and the lid was half open.

He reached out and held the garbage bag above the garbage can.

His fingers loosened slightly, then tightened again.

He loosened his grip slightly, then tightened it again.

The black garbage bag hung above the garbage can, swaying precariously.

The night breeze rustled the plastic bags, as if urging them on, or perhaps trying to stop them.

Zhou Deming stood there for a long time.

One by one, the lights upstairs went out. The neighborhood grew quieter and quieter, with only the occasional bark of a dog in the distance.

His fingers slowly loosened, and the garbage bag fell into the trash can.

There was a dull thud.

Zhou Deming turned around and walked back.

He took two steps and then stopped.

I stood still, staring at the concrete ground beneath my feet.

He asked himself – if I throw it away, am I really getting rid of it?

Twenty years of accounts, twenty years of secrets, all packed away in a garbage bag?

He turned around and walked back to the trash can.

He bent down and pulled the black garbage bag out of the trash can again.

The bag was covered in something dirty and sticky, and it smelled rancid.

He didn't pay any attention, picked up the trash bag, and went upstairs step by step.

The voice-activated light turned on and off repeatedly.

He opened the door, went inside, and placed the trash bag on the coffee table.

Then he sat on the sofa and stared at the stained black plastic bag.

The bottle is still on the coffee table, with about half left.

He picked it up, put it to his lips, and drank it all in one gulp.

Then he put the bottle on the ground, leaned back on the sofa, and closed his eyes.

A thought kept running through my mind—

"What should we do with all this stuff?"