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

After hanging up the phone, Zhao Fangxu gently placed the receiver back on the landline, as if he were placing a fragile item.

He leaned back in his chair, took off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

The air conditioner in the office was humming, and the twilight outside the window was gradually deepening in Beijing, with the outlines of office buildings turning into rows of black silhouettes on the horizon.

He sighed, his muttered words echoing softly in the empty office: "What a turbulent time. Why can't we ask in Jiangxi? Why do we have to resolve this in the capital? Under the emperor's nose, when will these people improve their awareness?"

They say one thing but do another.

He put his glasses back on his nose, picked up his coat from the back of the chair and draped it over his arm, pushed open the office door, and walked into the hallway.

His steps were neither fast nor slow, his leather shoes making a steady, rhythmic clattering sound on the corridor floor tiles.

His face remained impeccably calm, but judging from the speed and direction he was walking, he was personally heading to the Party Committee's Inspection Office to find Zhuge Ming.

……

Meanwhile, in a black minivan parked in a parking space in front of the company gate.

Lu Jin sat in the back row, her phone still clutched in her hand, the screen's warmth lingering in her palm.

He was wearing a dark gray Chinese-style jacket with a crisp fabric and a neat collar, clearly handmade.

His white hair was neatly combed, and his face was covered with deep and shallow wrinkles, but his eyes were still surprisingly bright, showing no trace of the dullness that belonged to his age.

He sat upright with his back straight, not at all like an old man who had lived for almost a century.

He looked down at his phone, opened his contacts, and found a contact whose nickname was "Bull Nose".

He pressed the dial button and held the phone to his ear.

The phone rang twice before being answered. A deep, peaceful voice came from the other end, like a gentle breeze drifting from afar, calm and unhurried.

"Old Lu, you've worked hard. I'll treat you to dinner later."

Upon hearing this voice, Lu Jin couldn't help but roll her eyes, her expression shifting back and forth between "disdain" and "helplessness".

He said irritably into the phone, "You old bastard! You're giving me that 'back to where' nonsense? I'm going to Longhu Mountain in a few days, you better treat me to good food and wine! Otherwise, don't even think about me doing you any favors in the future! I came all this way from home, stood in the sun outside their company waiting to get in, and didn't even get a sip of water, and you're just going to brush me off with 'I'll treat you to dinner later'? Don't you have any shame?"

The old master Zhang Zhiwei chuckled on the other end of the phone, his voice still carrying that detached and indifferent air of someone who had seen through the world's illusions, but with a touch of the casual warmth unique to old friends: "Alright, Lao Lu, I'm a few years older than you, so I'm your older brother. Now that you're here, how could your older brother not provide for you? Don't worry, you'll be well taken care of. Just tell the kitchen what you want to eat in advance, and I'll have someone prepare it for you. The kitchen at Longhu Mountain has some real skills."

Lu Jin snorted heavily, her voice carrying a hint of resentment but more of a helpless feeling of being bossed around: "Go to hell! This is a complicated matter. I'm still at the gate, I haven't even gone in yet! That Fatty Zhao won't let me in, saying it's working hours—you don't know, he's being very polite right now, all he says is work duty and organizational procedures, so I can't really yell at him, since he's absolutely right. What I hate most in this life is this kind of soft refusal, it's impossible to bite down on, impossible to chew, and it's choking if you swallow it."

Zhang Zhiwei's voice held a hint of confusion and curiosity: "What's going on, Lao Lu? With your connections, you're always treated like royalty wherever you go. When did Zhao Fangxu become so arrogant?"

Lu Jin leaned back in her seat, adjusting to a more comfortable position, and her expression changed from complaining to a complex look with a touch of emotion.

He looked out the car window at the Nadutong Company building, its brightly lit windows forming a row of neat dots in the twilight, and the company logo on the roof reflecting a dark red glow in the last rays of the setting sun.

"What's going on? He doesn't want to get involved in this mess. Fatty Zhao is walking on eggshells now, trembling with fear, afraid that he might say something wrong and be caught red-handed. He speaks only official jargon, acting like he'll do whatever he's told, leaving no room for error. From what he's saying, this company isn't his business anymore—the new Director Zhuge took over the main seat and started giving orders on his first day, while Zhao Fangxu didn't even utter a word, obediently sitting on the side as an accessory."

He paused, his tone suddenly becoming serious, his voice lowering as if afraid of being overheard by those outside the car: "But then again—the Wuhou School has produced a remarkable figure. Have you seen him online? A pillar of state-owned assets. That resume, I've lived almost a hundred years and never seen anything like it. Entered Tsinghua University at twelve, a postdoctoral fellow at seventeen, the National Science and Technology Progress Award (Special Prize), a model of military science and technology for strengthening the army—each of those titles is enough to overwhelm anyone. But the most crucial thing isn't even that; the most crucial thing is his eyes. I haven't even met him in person, just looking at his photos online, I can tell this man is extraordinary. Those eyes aren't shrewd, not clever, they're open to everything. They see through everything."

Zhang Zhiwei remained silent for a moment on the other end of the phone.

It wasn't that he was choked up, but rather that he was carefully digesting every word Lu Jin said.

Then he spoke slowly, his voice still calm and collected, but a closer listen revealed a faint hint of感慨 and agreement: "Yes, the Wuhou Sect has chosen the right path. Unlike these old guys nowadays—one or two of them, they're all making trouble for me. I'm over a hundred years old, and I can't have a moment's peace. For the sake of a junior, I've traveled from Jiangxi to Zhejiang, and then from Zhejiang to the capital, begging this and that, I've completely lost face. Sometimes I think, I'm really getting old—there weren't so many troubles before."

Lu Jin listened to Zhang Zhiwei's words and, unusually, did not argue.

He paused for a moment, then turned his gaze from the NaDuTong building outside the car window. His voice held a rare air of certainty and righteousness, and his tone returned to its usual forthrightness: "Old Lu, am I still allowed in today? I, Lu Jin, still have some influence—judging from Fatty Zhao, he's already asked. In this sweltering heat, they can't just refuse me a cup of tea, can they?"

He leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and spoke with a confident ease: "This junior from the Wuhou faction, Zhuge Ming—after all, he works in a government department, so he should know a thing or two about interpersonal relationships. Otherwise, how would he advance? In the end, officialdom is all about personal connections. If you block the door, who will want to associate with you anymore? Don't worry, you old fox, I'll find out exactly what the higher-ups mean. I'll protect your reputation. Anyway, mine isn't as valuable as yours, so I don't mind losing it a little."