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

The problems discovered by the audit team over three days all pointed to Fang Zhiwen.

Fang Zhiwen signed the contract, approved the funds, and hired the bid-rigging company.

He was merely an "insider" in this chain.

Failure to report a fact is a violation of discipline, not a violation of the law.

If Fang Zhiwen can shoulder the burden, he still has a chance.

But if he gets caught up in it too, then there will truly be no way out.

Fang Mingyuan closed his eyes.

He recalled how Fang Zhiwen used to follow behind him when he was a child, calling him "brother".

They were just children then. Fang Zhiwen was four years younger than him, thin and small, and was always bullied.

He was always the one who stood up for Fang Zhiwen and beat those who bullied him until they were black and blue.

Fang Zhiwen followed behind him, his face covered in snot and tears, saying, "Brother, you're amazing."

At that time, he felt that as the older brother, protecting his younger brother was a matter of course.

Later, when he grew up, he entered the system, and Fang Zhiwen also entered the system.

He climbed up step by step, with Fang Zhiwen following behind.

He became the executive deputy county head, and Fang Zhiwen became the secretary of Liuhe Town.

When he arranged for Fang Zhiwen to go to Liuhe Town, Fang Zhiwen invited him for drinks. After drinking too much, Fang Zhiwen said with red eyes, "Brother, I'll follow you for the rest of my life."

He patted Fang Zhiwen on the shoulder and said, "You're my brother, who else would you follow if not me?"

Now, he's not sure if he can still say those words.

……

Liuhe Town, town government building, 11 p.m.

Fang Zhiwen sat alone in his office.

The door was closed, and the blinds were drawn.

The ashtray on the table was full.

He smoked an entire pack of cigarettes, and his mouth was full of the taste of tar.

But he didn't stop, smoking one cigarette after another.

The phone screen was lit up, displaying Fang Mingyuan's reply.

There's only one word—"stability".

Fang Zhiwen stared at the character for a long time.

stable--

How can we stabilize it?

The audit team has already put a knife to my throat.

Can he solve the problem with just one word: "stability"?

Fang Zhiwen picked up his phone, wanting to send another message to ask his cousin if there was any way to help.

But his finger hovered above the screen, hesitant to press it.

He asked, "What can Fang Mingyuan say?"

Saying "I'm trying to figure something out"?

Say "Just hang in there a little longer"?

Saying, "If all else fails, just pass the buck to the people below"?

None of the answers are meaningful.

He couldn't hold on any longer. It wasn't a matter of attitude; the problem was that the hole was too big.

All the money he handled, the documents he signed, and the projects he approved over the years were like nails driven into the "coffin lid" of his career.

The audit team is now pulling out the nails, one by one.

Every time one is pulled out, he feels a sharp pain.

Once all the tubes are removed, he's finished.

Fang Zhiwen put down his phone, stood up, and walked to the window.

He pulled back the blinds and looked out at the town government compound.

The compound was quiet, with streetlights illuminating the empty parking lot where a few cars sat forlornly.

His car was parked at the very back—a black Audi A6L, the town's public bus, which he had used for six years.

Six years have passed. He's gotten used to this car, this office, and the days when he was the undisputed ruler of Liuhe Town.

What he's not used to is being investigated.

Fang Zhiwen turned around, walked back behind his desk, and sat down.

He opened the drawer and pulled out a few sheets of paper from the very back.

This is a detailed list of all "other expenditures" in Liuhe Town over the past five years, compiled by Zhou Deming at his request.

1160 million.

Every transaction is recorded, every transaction is signed, and every transaction has a destination.

Hongda Trading, Fang Zhiqiang's account, real estate in the provincial capital, and overseas transfers.

He thought the chain was very well hidden, and that as long as the accounts were balanced, no one would be able to find out.

But Meng Qingshan is not Han Bing, and the provincial audit team is not the county audit team.

What Han Bing couldn't find, Meng Qingshan could.

Fang Zhiwen stared at the few sheets of paper, his fingers slowly gliding across the pages.

His gaze fell on a line of text: "December 2023, 3 million, Hongda Commerce, provincial special funds for rural revitalization."

This money was intercepted by Du Jianguo at Fang Mingyuan's behest.

The money was supposed to be allocated to the edible mushroom base in Shuangqiao Town, but Fang Mingyuan made a call, and the money ended up in Liuhe Town instead.

Then he arranged for Qian Cheng to handle the transaction, using Hongda Trading's account, which was transferred twice before reaching Fang Zhiqiang's account.

Fang Zhiqiang used the money to buy a house in the provincial capital, paying in full for 300 million yuan.

Fang Zhiwen's finger stopped on that line of text.

300 million yuan, bought a house in the provincial capital in full.

If the audit team finds Fang Zhiqiang's real estate, they can then trace the source of this money through those properties.

He dared not think any further.

Fang Zhiwen crumpled the papers into a ball, intending to throw them away.

He stopped when he raised his hand above the trash can.

What's the harm in throwing it away?

Things that are kneaded into a ball can be unfolded, things that have been burned can be restored, and things that have been hidden can be found.

The evidence is gone, but the memory remains.

The memory may be gone, but the traces remain.

He unfolded the wad of paper, flattened it, folded it into a square, and stuffed it into the inner pocket of his wallet.

Then he picked up his phone and found Zhao Zhiyong's number.

He is the younger brother of Fang Zhiwen's wife, the legal representative of Hongda Trading, and the core recipient of the 1160 million yuan.

Fang Zhiwen stared at the three characters "Zhao Zhiyong" on the screen, his finger hovering over the green dial button.

He wanted to call and ask about the situation in the provincial capital, whether Zhao Zhiyong had heard any rumors, and whether Fang Zhiqiang's houses were still safe.

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

You shouldn't say these things over the phone.

What if someone is listening in?

Fang Zhiwen put down his phone, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

My mind is a mess, like a pot of boiling porridge.

Meng Qingshan's face, Qian Cheng's face, Zhou Deming's face, Zhou Min's face, He Ying's face, Fang Mingyuan's face—one by one they appeared, and one by one they disappeared.

He stood up, walked to the filing cabinet, and opened the cabinet door.

On the innermost shelf, there was a bottle of baijiu (Chinese liquor) – a gift from someone last Chinese New Year, which I hadn't opened yet.

He took it out, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip.

The wine is good, but unfortunately, I can't taste its rich aroma.

Instead, it felt hot in my throat...

Fang Zhiwen carried the wine bottle back to his desk, sat down, and took another swig.

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

He remembered the money.

The 500 million yuan went through Hongda Trading's account, but the goods were not shipped.

Zhao Zhiyong said, "Brother, don't worry, I'll handle it."

He believed it at the time.

He's unsure if Zhao Zhiyong has really taken care of things, if Fang Zhiqiang has really registered those houses under other people's names, and if the overseas account is truly untraceable.

He was uncertain about nothing.

Fang Zhiwen took another swig of wine.

He placed the bottle on the table, leaned back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling.

The lights were a bit too bright, but he didn't look away.

"Nothing will happen."

He said to himself.

But even he himself felt that this voice lacked confidence.

He recalled the way Meng Qingshan looked at him today—not scrutinizing, not doubting, but confirming.

It was as if they already knew the answer and were just waiting for him to say it himself.

Fang Zhiwen closed his eyes, his mind filled with those numbers—1160 million, 500 million, 300 million, 17.5 mu, 140 million.

Each number felt like a stone pressing down on his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.

He opened his eyes, picked up his phone, and wanted to call Fang Mingyuan.

After thinking about it, I put it down again.

Fang Mingyuan said "stability," and that was all he could do.

Sitting in my office, waiting for the audit team to continue their investigation tomorrow, to uncover more problems, and to remove more obstacles...

……

At the same time, at Chen Dapeng's residence.

He sat at the table with a notebook and several documents spread out in front of him—the audit team's findings over three days, an excerpt of accounts from Liuhe Town, Fang Zhiqiang's asset information, and a diagram of Hongda Commerce's connections.

Before his sister Chen Yang returned to the provincial capital, she helped him re-categorize and organize all the materials, and now it is much easier to flip through them.

He copied down the problems the audit team discovered one by one into his notebook over the past few days.

Contract number LH-2023-018, 300 million yuan paid in full at once, without any written approval procedures—he put a question mark next to it.

The acceptance report was signed with a black ballpoint pen, which does not comply with the 2022 regulations—raising another question mark.

The bidding process for the wastewater treatment project only allowed seven days from the release of the bidding documents to the bid deadline—a practically zero-sum game.

These "minor issues" may not be fatal on their own, but when viewed together, they resemble a string of beads, each one strung on the same line—a violation of regulations.

What lies behind non-compliance?

Chen Dapeng put down his pen, leaned back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling.

He mentally reviewed everything he had found out over the past few days.

NT$1160 million flowed out of the "Other Expenditures" account of the Liuhe Township Finance Office and went to Hongda Trading.

Zhao Zhiyong, the legal representative of Hongda Trading, is the younger brother of Fang Zhiwen's wife.

Fang Zhiqiang's 17.5 mu of land was expropriated, and he received 140 million yuan in compensation, which is five or six times that of an ordinary farmer.

Fang Zhiqiang owns two apartments, a company, and a Porsche in the provincial capital, with total assets of nearly ten million yuan.

Zhao Zhiyong and Fang Zhiqiang's companies are in the same office building, and their registered addresses differ by only a few door numbers.

If these beads were strung together with only one thread, it wouldn't be too difficult to spell out "Fang Zhiwen has a problem".

But to connect the dots and establish that "Fang Mingyuan also has problems," a crucial element is needed—evidence that directly links Fang Mingyuan to the money.

He Ying has the ledger that Du Jianguo handed over, which records the entire process of how the 300 million yuan of provincial rural revitalization special funds were intercepted.

The funds were transferred from the Provincial Department of Finance to the County Finance Bureau, from the County Finance Bureau to the Liuhe Town Finance Office, and from the Liuhe Town Finance Office to Hongda Commerce and Trade.

Every single entry was signed; the approver was Du Jianguo, and the instructor was Fang Mingyuan.

But that was what Du Jianguo said, not what was written down.

Fang Mingyuan could say "I don't know," "the people below me didn't follow the proper procedures," or "I didn't handle it directly."

To nail him to the spot, something more direct is needed—his own signature, his own instructions, or the testimony of a key witness.

Zhou Min —

These two words popped into Chen Dapeng's mind.

Zhou Min was the person in charge of the 1160 million yuan transfer record, the person in charge of the land expropriation compensation payment list, and the most crucial link between Fang Zhiwen and Qian Cheng.

She knows where the money came from, where it went, who approved it, who signed it, and who took the benefits.

But she is still waiting, waiting for the "opportunity".

Chen Dapeng picked up his phone and scrolled to Zhou Min's WeChat.

The last time they spoke was when he sent the message "Don't wait too long," and Zhou Min replied "I know," after which there was no further communication.

He stared at the chat box for a long time before typing: "The audit team has uncovered several problems in three days."

After sending the message, he stared at the screen, waiting for a reply.

One minute, two minutes, five minutes.

No reply.

Chen Dapeng placed his phone face down on the table, picked up a pen, and continued organizing the materials.

He turned to a new page and began drawing a relationship diagram.

Fang Zhiwen – Qian Cheng – Zhou Deming – Zhou Min – Zhao Zhiyong – Fang Zhiqiang.

The arrow starts from Fang Zhiwen, points to Qian Cheng, and then forks—

One sign points to Zhou Deming, next to which is written, "1160 million in accounts? Burned? Hidden?"

One sign points to Zhou Min, with a note next to it reading, "The person in charge, a key witness, is hesitating."

One sign points to Zhao Zhiyong, next to which is written, "Hongda Trading, Fang Zhiwen's brother-in-law, 800 million contract, actual supply less than 300 million."

The text then shifts from Zhao Zhiyong to Fang Zhiqiang, with a note next to it stating, "Two apartments in the provincial capital, a Porsche, a company, valued at over 900 million yuan, source unknown."

A dotted arrow is drawn upwards from Fang Zhiqiang, pointing to a question mark box containing the words, "Fang Mingyuan? 300 million embezzled? Someone surnamed Nie from the provincial capital?"

Chen Dapeng stared at the question mark box for a long time.

Lin Chen and her sister helped investigate Fang Mingyuan's network in the provincial capital.

The person surnamed Nie is the most crucial link in this chain—but also the most ambiguous.

All I know is that his surname is Nie, he has some influence in the provincial capital, and he has financial dealings with Fang Mingyuan.

Who exactly they are, which department they work in, what they do, and what their relationship is with Fang Mingyuan—we know nothing about any of these things.

Chen Dapeng picked up his phone, scrolled to Lin Chen's WeChat, and typed a line:

"Lin Chen, any news about that guy surnamed Nie?"