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

Xu Si quickly calculated in his mind: Bao Bao will definitely listen to me. If I tell her to go east, she won't go west. If I tell her to pretend to be mute, she won't say a word.

As for the temporary workers in other regions… he quickly went through them in his mind again—Old Meng in the Northwest, Xiao Zizai in East China, Hei Guan'er in Central China, Wang Zhenqiu in the Southwest…

He clasped his hands together in his heart and silently recited: "Better to die for my fellow Daoist than for me."

It's not my child, so I can't control him.

Good luck to everyone.

Zhao Fangxu walked to the conference room door, his hand already on the doorknob, but suddenly stopped.

He didn't turn around, but merely turned half his face, his tone casual as if he were chatting about everyday matters: "Xu Si, when you go to Jiangxi for your official duties, you'll inevitably have to interact with Director Zhuge. Since you have an administrative rank, you must be careful to avoid any unnecessary repercussions, and—"

He paused, his gaze falling on the cigarette between Xu Si's fingers that hadn't yet been lit.

"—Bad habits. Try not to smoke in public places, especially in front of superiors."

After saying that, he pushed open the door and went out.

Xu Si was the only one left in the conference room.

He glanced down at the cigarette in his hand, then at the spot where Zhao Fangxu had just been standing. His lips twitched, and he muttered, "Why do I have to quit smoking just because a leader comes along?"

He brought the cigarette to his nose and took a deep sniff, his face showing an expression of agonizing separation.

"What the leader says is definitely right, but—it's going to kill me."

He shoved the cigarette back into the pack with a fierce gesture, his action carrying a tragic air of "I'm not convinced, but I dare not say it."

……

Zhuge Bagua Village, Lanxi City, Zhejiang Province.

The home of the village Party branch secretary.

The main room was dimly lit, and a portrait hung on the wall above the altar—the person in the painting was wearing a feather fan and a turban, with a lean face and an air of strategic command between his brows.

Below the portrait were an incense burner and offerings. The incense ash in the burner was thick, indicating that it had been burning for many years.

A person was sitting next to the eight-immortal table in the center of the main room.

Zhuge Gong is the patriarch of the Zhuge Wuhou faction in modern times and the Party branch secretary of Zhuge Bagua Village.

His dual identities made him both a clan leader and a grassroots cadre in the village.

At this moment, the clan chief and village party secretary is sitting at the table drinking alone.

There was only a dish of peanuts on the table, and the last few were almost gone.

He was clutching a bottle of Erguotou (a type of Chinese liquor) in his hand. The green glass bottle reflected the dim yellow light, and most of the liquor in the bottle had already been drunk.

He didn't use a glass, but drank straight from the bottle, tilting his head back and taking a big gulp. The spicy liquor rolled down his throat, burning his teeth.

"That damned, unfilial son!"

Zhuge Gong slammed the wine bottle down on the table, the bottom hitting the wooden surface with a dull thud. A few peanuts were knocked to the edge of the table. "You unfilial son! How dare you talk to me like that! I'm your father!"

He took another swig, and the alcohol hit him hard, turning his face red.

Whether he was drunk or confused from anger, he squinted at the empty chair opposite him, as if his unfilial son were sitting there.

A hazy image appeared before my eyes, like a phantom created by the vapor of alcohol.

A little boy.

With two little pigtails and chubby cheeks, she was squatting on the ground drawing something with a small wooden stick.

Upon closer inspection, it turned out that the drawing did not depict cats or dogs, but rather a complete Qimen Dunjia chart—the Earth Plate, Human Plate, Heaven Plate, and Divine Plate were all present, with the Eight Trigrams and Nine Palaces perfectly aligned.

Zhuge Gong blinked hard, and the image became clearer.

That happened 25 years ago.

His wife gave birth to twins, both boys.

The eldest son was named Zhuge Qing, and the second son was named Zhuge Ming.

The midwife said twins are rare, and the Zhuge family is very fortunate.

Zhuge Gong held his two sons, beaming from ear to ear. He felt that his greatest achievement in life was not becoming the clan chief or the village party secretary, but having these two sons.

The two brothers showed remarkable talent from the time they could speak.

They learned the techniques of Wuhou Qimen very quickly, but there are differences between those who are fast.

The eldest son, Zhuge Qing, is already considered a genius. The elders of the clan praised him highly, saying that this child will surely be able to carry the banner of the Wuhou School in the future.

But the second son, Zhuge Ming—

Zhuge Gong would never forget that scene.

Five-year-old Zhuge Ming sat on a futon, with a thick book, "Wuhou Qimen: Tianpan Scroll," in front of him, so thick it could be used as a pillow.

The clan rules stipulated that one could only touch the Heavenly Scroll at the age of twelve, and he had been looking at it secretly.

Just as Zhuge Gong was about to reprimand him, Zhuge Ming looked up at him, his eyes so clear and bright that they didn't seem like those of a five-year-old child, and then calmly said in a soft, gentle voice:

"Father, is the workings of the celestial sphere related to the Coriolis force of the Earth's rotation?"

Zhuge Gong was stunned on the spot.

He consulted the family genealogy, examined ancient texts, and asked the elders.

The Qimen Dunjia techniques of the Wuhou School have been passed down for thousands of years, and the five characters "Coriolis" have never appeared in the annotations of the ancestors of all generations.

His second son, who is five years old, not only understood the Heavenly Plate Scroll, but also explained the principle of Qimen Dunjia's operation from the perspective of physics.

From then on, Zhuge Ming learned things at an astonishing speed, as if he had been given a cheat code.

He is proficient in all aspects of geomancy, including earth, human, heaven, and spirit, as well as the Five Elements, the Eight Gates, destiny calculation, and formation setup.

The clan elders shook their heads when they saw it, not because they were dissatisfied, but because they said they had never seen anything like it before.

An elderly elder, over ninety years old, examined Zhuge Ming's astrological chart, remained silent for a long time, and then said to Zhuge Gong, "This child, I cannot teach."

Zhuge Gong's feelings at that time were a mixture of elation and a vague unease.

He nurtured Zhuge Ming as his successor and devoted countless efforts to him.

This child is also very promising; he learns everything very quickly, almost to an extraordinary degree.

Sometimes, Zhuge Gong couldn't sleep at night and would lie in bed thinking over and over again: Is my Zhuge family about to produce a restorer of the dynasty? Is the thousand-year-old tradition of the Zhuge School about to shine brightly in this generation?

Then, the sky fell.

Zhuge Ming began to love learning.

There's nothing wrong with loving to learn; Zhuge Gong himself was the village party secretary, so his awareness was evident.

Children need to study; how can they manage without studying? But Zhuge Ming, this rebellious son, studied in a way that was different from everyone else's.

He skipped a grade.

It's not skipping one or two levels, it's skipping six levels.

In the morning, I was in third-grade elementary school class, but in the afternoon I went to the junior high school library to look up physics textbooks.

The school teachers, driven to desperation, gave him a comprehensive test, which revealed that the child's knowledge base had reached the high school level.

Zhuge Gong's first reaction was not pride, but panic.

What alarmed him even more was that Zhuge Ming started watching the evening news broadcast without fail.

Every evening at seven o'clock sharp, no matter what I'm doing, I put down everything I'm doing, sit properly in front of the TV, and watch it from beginning to end, not even missing the weather forecast.

After watching the evening news, it's not over yet; you have to continue with Focus Interview.

A seven or eight-year-old child is concerned about national affairs, international situations, and policy trends every day.