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

His narrowed eyes narrowed again, and a faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. The smile contained both a knowing understanding of everything and a subtle helplessness: "Little Bai, the reason why Father is like this is because he has been taught a good lesson by the elders of the clan. He has no choice."

He turned his head, his gaze passing over the roof tiles and landing at the other end of the village lane—where a row of elderly people stood, each one vigorous and upright, their eyes fixed intently on the inspection team's every move.

Some of the elderly people were leaning on canes, while others had their hands behind their backs. Without exception, they all wore a solemn and proud expression, as if they were participating in a grand ancestral worship ceremony.

Zhuge Bai followed his elder brother's gaze and then noticed the presence of those old people.

He paused for a moment, then exclaimed "Ah!" as if suddenly realizing something. Of course he recognized those old men; they were all elders of the same generation as Zhuge Zhen Taishu Gong, the most respected group in the clan, who usually sat in the front row during ancestral hall meetings.

They all came today, not one missing.

"Didn't you notice?"

Zhuge Qing's voice was unhurried, as if he were giving his younger brother a lesson in family politics, "All of our ancestors from the generation of our great-uncle Zhuge Zhen have come. Even Father, the clan head, a man whose word is law in the clan, had to bow his head in the face of such a display. Most importantly—"

He paused, his gaze returning to the figure surrounded in the alleyway, his tone carrying a complex undertone that Zhuge Bai could hardly discern: "It's not up to Father."

Zhuge Bai remained silent for about two seconds, carefully digesting the information in his elder brother's words. Then, he nodded vigorously and exclaimed in a heartfelt tone, "Unfortunately, I, Xiao Bai, am uncultured and can only say 'Holy crap' to get by—Second Brother is too awesome!"

……

The inspection has concluded.

The delegation's motorcade had already left Zhuge Bagua Village and was heading towards the town's guesthouse along the country road.

The media van followed at the very back. The camera lens caps were finally closed, and the reporters sat inside reviewing the footage they had shot that day, whispering among themselves about which photo could be used as the cover image.

At the village square, the villagers gradually dispersed, and the elderly Party members who were holding small red flags carefully put them away and walked back in twos and threes.

The once bustling alleyway has returned to its usual tranquility, with only a few children still chasing and playing, trying to imitate the unhurried gait of the leaders walking earlier.

Zhuge Ming stayed behind.

No one dared to say anything—Zhuge Ming was originally from Zhuge Bagua Village, grew up here, and had stepped on every bluestone slab in the village. This was not a secret that could not be made public.

It's perfectly natural for leaders to visit their own homes; no one has the right to stop them.

Besides, no one wanted to stop them.

"Xiaoming, I'll go back with you."

Zhuge Zheng walked up to Zhuge Ming at some point, his tone sounding as if he were stating a given fact rather than seeking an opinion.

Zhuge Ming glanced at him sideways.

The town party secretary, who was also his great-uncle, had a kind smile typical of elders on his face, but the meaning in his eyes was clear—this matter was not up for discussion.

"Third Uncle, I can actually walk back by myself. I could find my way home with my eyes closed."

Zhuge Ming said.

"Oh, that won't do."

Zhuge Zheng waved his hand, his tone carrying an unyielding insistence, "Your father is waiting for you at home. With your great-uncle here, let's have a good meal together as a family and catch up—how ​​many years has it been since you ate at home? Your mother got up early this morning to buy groceries, and the pig's trotters have been stewing all morning."

When Zhuge Ming heard the words "Your father is waiting for you at home," his eyebrows twitched very slightly.

He is not stupid.

What Zhuge Zheng meant was: With me in charge, your father won't dare to do anything to you.

He quickly weighed the options in his mind.

Actually, he didn't think Lao Deng had the guts—yesterday, he had drunk half a bottle of Erguotou (a type of Chinese liquor) and was on the phone. The alcohol emboldened the coward, and the distance gave him courage. Only when these two conditions were combined did he dare to make such harsh remarks on the phone.

If it were face-to-face, Old Deng wouldn't be that crazy; he wouldn't have reached the point of dementia and be unable to distinguish between situations where he can act out and situations where he can't.

Besides, his return this time is official.

A high-ranking state official at the ministerial level was assaulted in his own home during official business hours—what a joke! The Party and the state will never allow such a thing to happen.

If that were to happen, it wouldn't just be a family conflict; it would be a serious incident affecting public officials' ability to perform their duties in accordance with the law.

"Alright, then I'll trouble my third uncle to accompany me."

Zhuge Ming nodded.

The two walked side by side on the bluestone path of Zhuge Bagua Village.

The inspection team had already gone far away, leaving only the two of them in the alley, their footsteps echoing softly in the ancient alley.

The afternoon sunlight was cut into thin strips of light by the green-tiled eaves on both sides, spreading out on the bluestone slabs one by one, making walking on them feel like crossing some kind of time scale.

Zhuge Ming slowed his pace, his gaze sweeping over the familiar buildings on both sides—that corner was where he practiced Qimen Dunjia when he was a child, that stone was where he sat watching the news when he was five, and the old locust tree still had the scars from when he fell down while climbing up to steal bird nests when he was seven.

He had been away from home for too long, leaving at the age of twelve and almost never returning after seventeen, but every detail was still perfectly preserved in his memory, as if an identical three-dimensional model had been built in his mind.

"Third Uncle," he began, his tone less businesslike and more genuinely moved, "I haven't been home for years, and I haven't had a chance to properly observe the development of our village and town. This time, I've truly found the village thriving and changing dramatically. The infrastructure is much better than before, the alleyways are spotless, the ancient buildings are well-preserved, and the villagers' spirits are high—these are all tangible achievements made by you grassroots cadres day after day."

Zhuge was walking beside him at a moderate pace. Upon hearing this, he quickly waved his hand, his tone sincere yet measured: "It's all thanks to the good national policies and the good leadership of the Party! The development of our Zhuge Town in recent years has ultimately been due to good timing. As soon as the rural revitalization strategy was implemented, the support funds and policy dividends from above came down. In addition, with you, as a high-ranking leader, making strategic plans in the province, our town has also benefited."

Zhuge Ming smiled faintly, but genuinely: "When the people have faith, the nation has strength, and the country has hope—but, Third Uncle, there's no need to be so discreet. We're family, blood is thicker than water. Our Party emphasizes putting the people first, not being heartless or sacrificing family for the greater good. Now is a time for visiting relatives, not work time, so let's say what we want to say and talk as we please."