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

His original name was not Zhuge Ming.

What was his name again? It doesn't seem to matter that much anymore.

He was an orphan who completed college with the help of scholarships and loans.

An ordinary undergraduate university with a mediocre major, coinciding with a poor economic climate, meant that graduates faced unemployment.

After submitting over two hundred resumes and going through more than thirty interviews, I finally put on the yellow vest and became a "city pioneer"—a junior food delivery worker.

While others deliver food to make a living, he had an additional purpose: to pass the civil service exam.

He drives errands during the day and studies for exams at night; his electric scooter always has a well-worn book of past civil service exam questions crammed into its trunk.

He could recite model essays by heart and knew current political events like the back of his hand.

When others asked him why he worked so hard, he smiled and said, "The end of the universe is where we make our own plans."

Then, the scorching midday heat of over 40 degrees Celsius arrived.

He was delivering a braised chicken order when a notification popped up on his phone—the written test results were released, and he had made it to the interview stage, ranking third.

He held his phone, grinning foolishly for a full thirty seconds under the blazing sun, laughing until tears almost streamed down his face.

Then he glanced at the software—the system had dispatched more than twenty orders during peak hours, and the site administrator wouldn't allow cancellations.

Canceling one order results in a deduction from wages; with over twenty orders, half a month's hard-earned money would be wasted.

He gritted his teeth, wiped the sweat from his brow, and twisted the accelerator: "Deliver! After this last trip, I'm quitting!"

The last traffic light intersection.

His hands were shaking while he was waiting at the red light.

Excitement? Heatstroke? Or both? He felt his heart pounding uncontrollably, as if something was violently pounding in his chest, faster and faster.

Then, everything went black.

In his final moments before losing consciousness, only one sentence flashed through his mind: a line from Zhuge Liang in his favorite novel, *Romance of the Three Kingdoms*—"Oh, heavens, how cruel are you to me?"

Then he died.

Then he came back to life.

He opened his eyes and found himself transformed into an infant, lying in an antique-style room with carved beams overhead and the sounds of a woman crying and a group of people clamoring around him.

A system notification sound rang clearly in his mind—

"Ding! [The Order System for Extraordinary People] has been bound - every promotion is a leap in life."

It took him a long time to understand his situation: he had transmigrated into the world of the comic "Under One Person" and become Zhuge Ming, the twin brother of Zhuge Qing, the second son of the Zhuge family of the Wuhou School in Zhuge Bagua Village, Lanxi, Zhejiang.

The system gave him a beginner's gift pack: photographic memory, top-notch comprehension, top-notch temperament, and top-notch physical fitness.

Simply put, it means being quick-witted, learning everything fast, having a stable mindset, and being as strong as an ox.

Then Zhuge Ming made a decision that no one could understand—he refused to learn the techniques of Zhuge Liang's Qimen Dunjia.

He pushed aside the Zhuge family's ancestral manual and opened a book titled "Administrative Professional Ability Test".

His clansmen asked him why.

He said, "Taoist methods are not as good as political and legal systems, extraordinary skills are not as good as political achievements, the Wuhou organization is not as good as the administrative organization, and the Feng Hou Qi Men is not as good as the national departments. What I have realized has long surpassed the Eight Extraordinary Skills. What I have realized is awareness of the organization and loyalty to the country."

The clansmen looked at each other, thinking that the child might have mental problems.

Twenty-five years later, no one thought he had a mental problem anymore.

Zhuge Ming opened his eyes, pulling himself out of his memories.

He looked at the transfer notice in front of him, his gaze falling on the words "Director of the Party Committee Inspection Office," and a barely perceptible smile finally appeared on the corner of his mouth.

"System," he said silently to himself, "I've lived my whole life on thin ice. Do you think I can ever reach the other side?"

A crisp system notification sounded in his mind: "Ding! How high does one have to go to be considered a high-ranking official?"

Zhuge Ming retorted inwardly, "Commander, don't talk like that. You know I desperately want to improve."

The system did not respond.

Just then, the cell phone on the table rang.

Zhuge Ming looked up at the clock on the wall—it was exactly eleven o'clock.

get off work.

He picked up his phone, and the caller ID on the screen read "Old Deng".

He swiped to answer the call, his tone switching instantly from that of a boss to that of a son with at least a conscience: "Hello, Father, is there anything wrong at home?"

On the other end of the phone, Zhuge Gong's voice still clearly carried lingering anger, his tone harsh: "Are you off work? Answer me yes or no!"

Zhuge Ming smiled, leaned back in his chair, and said in a relaxed tone as if he were chatting casually, "Why are you so serious? Father, you're off work. Is there something you need? I'm going to have dinner."

"Skipping one meal won't kill you!"

Zhuge Gong's voice suddenly rose eight octaves, "What was that attitude of yours just now? Is that how you talk to your father? I'm your father, don't you understand?! You're still putting on airs!"

"Father, what's gotten into you? What do you mean I installed it?"

Zhuge Ming's tone remained calm and even somewhat innocent. "You're the village party secretary, and your son is a provincial department head. Tell me, am I not your superior?"

A heavy breathing came from the other end of the phone, and Zhuge Gong's voice sounded like it was being squeezed out of his throat: "No matter how high your rank is, Zhuge Ming, you're still my son! I'm your father! It's only natural for a father to discipline his son! You've gone too far!"

"Alright, Father, I was wrong."

Zhuge Ming admitted his mistake so quickly that it seemed insincere, but his tone was impeccable: "Getting angry is bad for your health. It's not a big deal. We should keep public and private matters separate. During working hours, a village secretary of your level shouldn't have the right to call me."

"You bastard!"

"It's time to get off work, it's time to get off work. Father, just say what you want to say. What's wrong? Can't you solve the problem first?"

Zhuge Ming switched the phone to the other ear, his tone becoming more relaxed, "No matter how angry you are, you can't hit me. We're so far apart. Even if we take a step back, it's not your place to hit me. The Party and the country are looking after our son, and at the very least, there are the people. You have no right to do so."

A strange sound came from the other end of the phone, like the sound of teeth grinding.

Zhuge Gong's voice was almost choked with rage, each word like a knife stabbing into his heart: "You unfilial son! You'll drive me crazy sooner or later! You believe I'll file a complaint against you? I'll take it all the way to the central government!"

Zhuge Ming laughed, a soft but sincere laugh: "Father, to put it bluntly, I know the Central Committee better than you do. You've forgotten, I came from the Central Committee."

silence.

A long silence followed.

Then Zhuge Gong's voice deflated like a punctured balloon, his momentum visibly collapsing: "Enough, I can't argue with you. I heard you're going to be transferred to a neighboring province, to work in Jiangxi?"

Zhuge Ming's eyebrows twitched slightly, but his tone remained as steady as a mountain: "Oh, your information network is quite impressive. My son just received his transfer notice, it hasn't even been officially announced yet, and you've already heard the news. Looks like there are bad guys among the masses."