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

He wiped the fine sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, cleared his throat, and began in a perfectly measured tone of respect and sincerity: "Director Zhuge, I heard you just say that you're taking office today. I've been so busy with work lately, with so many arrangements to make, that I haven't had a chance to sit down and have a proper chat with you. On behalf of myself and Comrade Xu Si, could you please take the liberty of inviting me to a simple meal?"

He paused, observed Zhuge Ming's expression, and seeing that his superior didn't seem to mind, continued, his tone now carrying a hint of sincerity and empathy as if speaking on behalf of a subordinate: "We're all colleagues in the company, and we've both been busy with work these past few days, so we haven't had a chance to get to know each other. Comrade Xu Si has indeed been under a lot of pressure these past few days, and to be honest with Director Zhuge—"

He even came to me privately, saying he's afraid of you and has quit smoking for several days, hasn't dared to touch alcohol, and has given up all his bad habits. Now, while dealing with the aftermath, he said he wants to personally report to Director Zhuge and wants to get to know Director Zhuge better and learn from his spirit. Do you think—could you give him that opportunity?

Zhuge Ming laughed after hearing this.

The laughter was soft and short, but genuine, carrying a restrained feeling of being amused but not wanting to show it too obviously.

He leaned back in his leather seat, tapped his fingers lightly on his knee, then turned to look at Zhao Fangxu, saying in a joking tone, "Since Chairman Zhao has said so, as the director of the company's Party Committee Inspection Office, I also need to care about the physical and mental health of our comrades. So I'll have a good talk with Comrade Xu Si. We're all comrades, why be afraid? Do I look that scary?"

He said his last question, "Am I that scary?" in a relaxed and casual manner. Zhao Fangxu quickly waved his hand to indicate that he had no such intention, and the two of them laughed a few times.

Then Zhuge Ming's smile faded, his tone shifting from teasing to a gentle yet clear admonition. His manner remained friendly but measured, yet every word carried the ironclad rules of official banquets: "Chairman Zhao, a simple meal is fine, but the standard must not exceed the limit. You know the standard for official meals. We are all Party members and cadres; there can be no ambiguity on this matter. Don't let Comrade Xu Si spend too much; he needs to save his salary to get married."

Zhao Fangxu immediately agreed, his smile a mixture of relief and seriousness, his tone perfectly measured, as if he were completing an important task: "Please rest assured, Director Zhuge. We are all comrades, and I know the standards for official meals; they will never be exceeded. We will keep it simple and light, absolutely no extravagance. I'm sure Director Zhuge will be very happy that he has taken the time out of his busy schedule to answer Comrade Xu Si's questions and offer guidance—perhaps even forgetting to smoke a cigarette."

……

The North China branch of Nadutong Company has three underground floors.

There were no windows or natural light in this place. The fluorescent lights in the corridor emitted a pale, even humming sound, making the four red characters "Strictly Observe Discipline" on the wall particularly glaring.

The air was filled with a faint smell of rust mixed with the scent of disinfectant. At the end of the corridor was a row of heavy iron doors, each with a small observation window that let in even less light than the corridor itself.

This is not a police station detention room, nor a prison cell—this is the company's internal interrogation room.

Internally, it's called the "underground meeting room."

But among the employees at the North China branch, it has a more direct name: the dungeon.

The iron door to the innermost room was ajar, and a narrow beam of white light shone through the crack.

The room contained only an iron table fixed to the ground, two iron chairs also fixed to the ground, and a fluorescent lamp with an iron mesh over the head.

The walls were bare cement gray, with several faint dark lines that were hard to tell whether they were scratches or something else.

A young man wearing a black printed white T-shirt and black pants was kneeling on the cold cement floor, his hands neatly placed on his knees, his back straight, his posture as upright as a primary school student being punished to copy homework—the only difference being his face.

That face can no longer be described as a "face".

A large, bluish-purple lump swelled up on his left cheekbone, his right eye socket was dark purple, a crack on the corner of his mouth had formed a dark red scab, and a lump the size of a pigeon egg was on the center of his forehead. He looked like he had just been rescued from a car accident, or like he had been kicked by a group of angry kangaroos.

If it weren't for that iconic white T-shirt with black square print, even his own mother would probably be stunned for three seconds before daring to recognize him.

—Zhang Chulan.

He knelt on the ground, tears streaming down his face. The tears welled up in his swollen eyes, threatening to fall, making his already blurred features even more indistinct.

His expression was a mixture of grievance, regret, fear, pain, and a profound realization that only comes after being repeatedly beaten down by society. He exuded a strong aura of "I have completely become honest."

He sniffled and said in a tone that was almost tearful but unusually clear, as if afraid of missing any detail, "Fourth Brother, I've told you everything. Not a single word. I've reported every single action, every conversation, every exchange of glances that happened every minute."

From beginning to end, it was definitely that Feng Shayan who seduced me first—she said that as long as I joined the World Society, I could name my price and she even arranged a female masseuse for me! I joined the World Society in a daze, which led to this whole chain of events! I was so wrong! I'm guilty!

He raised his pig-like face, his eyes, swollen to mere slits, gazing pitifully ahead, his voice filled with pleading sincerity and a desperate will to live: "Fourth Brother, are you calmed down? How about I kowtow to you again?"

Opposite him, Xu Si was leaning against the edge of the iron table fixed to the cement floor, one leg on the ground and the other leg on the corner of the table.

The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing two lean forearms, and three buttons on the collar were undone, revealing a section of his tanned collarbone.

He held a freshly lit cigarette between his left and a stack of handwritten reports, still smelling of ink, in his right hand, flipping through them page by page. His gaze swept over each line of text from top to bottom, his expression as focused as if he were reviewing a multi-billion dollar merger and acquisition contract.

He flipped to the last page, then back to the first, put the cigarette in his mouth, tilted his head, and spat on the ground.

The saliva fell onto the cement floor with a soft pattering sound.

He looked up at Zhang Chulan kneeling on the ground, a half-smile playing on his lips, and said in a tone as if appraising an unearthed artifact, "Oh ho! You little brat! Your handwriting is quite good—standard regular script, straight strokes, distinct lines. Looks like your college degree is pretty impressive. It's quite detailed, logical, and well-reasoned. The timeline is clear, the relationships between characters are defined, and there are even descriptions of inner thoughts at key points. Should I give you a compliment? You stupid college student!"