One person said: The essence of Wuhou Qimen lies not in Qimen, but in Wuhou.

The team entered the village.

Zhuge Ming walked at the very center of the group, the national emblem on his black suit standing out against the bluestone pavement of the ancient village lanes.

Behind him were the leadership team of Lanxi City, followed by the entourage of the Provincial Department of Agriculture and Rural Affairs. On both sides were media reporters carrying long lenses and microphones, the sound of shutters clicking incessantly, as if providing a unique background rhythm for this group.

Zhuge Gong—the Party Branch Secretary of Zhuge Bagua Village—was at the head of the procession.

But not in the exact center, but on the side. He turned sideways, leading the way and explaining as he went, his leather shoes clicking on the bluestone slabs, his pace noticeably faster than usual.

Two barely noticeable blots of sweat had seeped under his white shirt armpits, but his smile remained unwavering, revealing eight perfectly aligned teeth, sincere and full. Anyone who saw him would have to say, "This grassroots cadre has a really good mental outlook."

"Distinguished leaders, please look here—this is the best-preserved section of the ancient alleyway from the Ming Dynasty in our village. It is 180 meters long and has 47 existing Ming and Qing Dynasty buildings on both sides, 12 of which are listed as provincial-level cultural relics protection units."

The layout of the alleyways in Zhuge Bagua Village strictly follows the design of the Eight Trigrams Formation by the ancestor Zhuge Liang. Outsiders who enter without a local guide will get lost in less than three minutes. This also served a certain defensive function in ancient times…

Zhuge Gong's voice was loud yet friendly. He introduced the village's cultural relics and historical sites with great familiarity, reciting data off the top of his head, clearly having made ample preparations.

As he spoke, he would occasionally step aside to give the leaders a better view, while keeping a close eye on the path beneath his feet, afraid that he might accidentally step into a crack in the bluestone slab and make a fool of himself.

"This is the village's cultural hall, used for villagers' cultural activities and weddings and funerals. It was renovated last year, covering an area of ​​320 square meters, and can accommodate 200 people at the same time. We regularly hold themed Party Day activities here, organize villagers to study national policies and regulations, and have also invited agricultural experts from the city to give several agricultural technology training courses..."

He spoke with great enthusiasm, and occasionally a few drops of spittle would uncontrollably fly out, which he would quickly cover up with an unintentional wiping of his mouth.

The smile on his face hadn't left since he arrived in the village, and the muscles at the corners of his mouth were starting to ache slightly, but he gritted his teeth and persevered—the whole day of Party lessons his third uncle had given him yesterday hadn't been for nothing. He, Zhuge Gong, had thoroughly learned what "the spirit of grassroots cadres" meant and what "presenting the best image to the leaders" meant.

The procession marched through the octagonal alleyway, with villagers who had come to watch standing on both sides.

There were young wives holding babies, white-haired elderly people leaning on canes, and little kids wearing open-crotch pants weaving through the crowd.

The village committee organized a group of villagers to stand on both sides of the road holding small red flags in advance. Several elderly Party members also stood up straighter than usual, with solemn expressions on their faces, as if they were participating in a military parade.

Not far away, on the roof of an old house with blue tiles and white walls.

Two figures crouched behind the parapet, taking in the entire scene from their elevated position.

Zhuge Bai gripped the wall with both hands, rested his chin on the back of his hands, his blue eyes wide open, and his mouth slightly agape, presenting a standard state of "dumbfounded".

He didn't even bother to straighten his hat, which was askew. He stared intently at the long procession in the alleyway without even blinking—a black sedan leading the way, followed by minibuses, entourages on both sides, media reporters carrying cameras, villagers holding small red flags, and the tall figure surrounded by everyone like a star.

His second brother.

The national emblem on their chests gleamed in the sunlight, and even from a distance, the small red dot could be seen moving steadily at the very heart of the crowd.

"Wow--"

Zhuge Bai finally let out a long sigh, his voice a mixture of admiration, awe, and a youthful, exhilarating excitement.

He turned to look at Zhuge Qing beside him, his little face filled with excitement. He couldn't help but stomp his foot. "Brother Qing! This scene reminds me of a saying by Emperor Gaozu of Han, Liu Bang—"

He took a deep breath and read it aloud in a solemn tone, his voice still carrying a childish crispness, but with a commanding presence: "A true man should be like this!"

Zhuge Qing did not speak.

He stood behind the parapet, his light blue Chinese-style long gown fluttering slightly in the wind blowing from the rooftop, and the small braid at the end of his hair swaying gently.

His blue eyes were fixed on the slowly moving group in the alley, on the figure surrounded by everyone, for a very long time.

Then, he did something that Zhuge Bai had never seen before.

He opened his squinting eyes.

Those blue eyes, which were usually half-closed, were now fully open, reflecting the figures of people in the village lanes and the sunlight, as clear as two bottomless pools of water.

He remained silent, his expression still calm and composed, but in his open eyes, Zhuge Bai saw something he had never seen on his elder brother's face before.

Zhuge Bai tilted his head, deciding not to delve into what was wrong with his elder brother's expression management.

He leaned back against the wall, his mouth starting to chatter again: "Father is really something, he wouldn't let us go! He said we brothers shouldn't cause trouble at home, and that too many people would be a nuisance—the villagers going are all respected elders, or just little kids, and that people our age are a 'mixed bag,' and if something unexpected happens, it'll be bad!"

He made a quotation mark gesture with both hands, framing the words "a mixed bag" in the air, then rolled his eyes, his tone full of indignation: "What if? Not even a million times! This is Zhuge Bagua Village! Even those wicked Quanxing members wouldn't dare come here! We have countless elders in our village who can fight, who would be so bored as to come here and cause trouble?"

Once Zhuge Bai started talking, he couldn't stop, continuing to ramble on: "But Qing-ge, you're right—Father is a hypocrite! A huge hypocrite! Yesterday, he was drunk and gesticulating wildly, saying he was going to beat up Second Brother, even raising his back scratcher. You didn't see it, he looked like he was going to war. Look at him now—"

He pointed his little finger at the middle-aged man in the alleyway who was giving a rousing explanation with a bright smile, his tone carrying a mature air of "I've seen it all": "Look how bright his smile is! His attitude while reporting on his work is overflowing with positive energy! Every pore on his body radiates the glow of dedication to his job! Who was that guy with the back scratcher yesterday? I don't know him! It's definitely not the same person!"

Zhuge Qing finally spoke.