Official statement: Tongwei is dead! You chose Ruijin, didn't you?

In Xicheng District of Jingzhou City, there is a residential compound for retired cadres that has been in existence for some years.

Lei Ming, accompanied by two special agents, stood in front of a security door on the third floor and knocked for a full two minutes, but there was no response from inside.

"Contact the property management and the local police station directly to unlock it," Lei Ming said without hesitation.

The door lock was forcibly opened.

The house was empty. On the coffee table in the living room was a half-cold cup of tea, and in the ashtray was a half-smoked Zhonghua cigarette.

The wardrobe doors in the master bedroom were wide open, and it was obvious that they had been rummaged through haphazardly; several frequently worn seasonal coats were missing.

Xiao Lin walked into the bedroom and looked around. Pointing to the floor next to the bed, he said, "Director Lei, you ran off in a hurry. You didn't even put on your leather shoes. You just stepped on a pair of old sneakers and left slippers all over the floor."

Lei Ming ignored him and went straight to the study.

Under the desk in the study, there was a black paper shredder. The power indicator light was still on.

Lei Ming opened the wastebasket of the paper shredder, which was filled with fine paper scraps.

"Have the technical department bring the equipment over immediately and seal the puzzle pieces on-site," Lei Ming ordered.

Half an hour later, technicians at the scene used scanners and puzzle software to barely reconstruct a few key phrases from the debris.

Lei Ming stared at the words pieced together on the screen and read them aloud: "Lingang...Advisor Wang...Bai Ban...Overseas quota."

These words together form a political nuclear bomb that could blow up the officialdom of Handong at any moment.

Lei Ming's face darkened, and he quickly pulled out his phone: "Notify the provincial command center to immediately issue a province-wide search notice. Check train stations, airports, and highway entrances. Du Qishan can't have gone far."

Xiao Lin added from the side, "Director Lei, while you're at it, have the command center check the registration and emergency systems of major hospitals. These old foxes like to make up an emergency medical record for themselves before they run away, so that if they get caught, they can say they were rushing to see a doctor."

...

6 PM, Jingzhou South High-speed Railway Station.

Amid the flow of people at the security checkpoint, a middle-aged man wearing a baseball cap, a mask pulled up above his nose, and clutching an old-fashioned black leather briefcase tightly in his hand was hurrying toward the ticket gate with his head down.

He bought a high-speed rail ticket to Haizhou.

Haizhou has a port; once you get there, you can easily find a black ship to sail into international waters.

Just as he was about to place his ID card in the sensor area of ​​the gate, a strong hand pressed down on his shoulder from behind.

"Director Du, your sick leave isn't over yet, where are you rushing off to?"

Du Qishan froze, turning his head as if electrocuted, and saw Lei Ming's expressionless face, as well as several plainclothes officers who quickly surrounded him.

Du Qishan's legs went weak, but he still instinctively tried to argue, "I... I have heart problems, and the hospitals in Jingzhou can't cure it. I'm going to Haizhou for treatment..."

Xiao Lin stepped out from behind Lei Ming, took the ID card and train ticket from Du Qishan's hand, glanced at them, and sighed: "Director Du, you can make up an illness on the spot, but you can't book an appointment with a specialist on the spot. You're really not very professional. Going to Haizhou to see a heart doctor? Haizhou is most famous for its proctology department. Your illness has metastasized quite quickly."

Du Qishan opened his mouth, his face instantly turned ashen, and he collapsed like a lump of mud.

After being taken back to the supervisory team's residence, Du Qishan's old leather bag was opened in front of him.

Inside were cash, two bank cards not in the person's name, an old-fashioned telephone directory with a badly worn cover, and a photocopy tightly wrapped in kraft paper.

The photocopies are the core attachments to the feasibility study materials for the Lingang project that were lost from the National Development and Reform Commission's archives.

Lei Ming didn't look at the document first, but picked up the old address book and casually flipped through it.

The page was covered with a lot of numbers, and when you turned to a certain page in the middle, several names suddenly came into view.

Secretary Zhao from the White Office.

Wang Zonghui.

Luo Jianping.

Zhao Ruilong.

Old Chen.

Lei Ming's gaze continued to sweep downwards, then suddenly paused on a name.

Zhong Weimin.

Xiao Lin leaned closer for a look, then exclaimed in a low voice, "Zhong Xiao Ai's dad?"

Lei Ming did not answer. He quickly and naturally closed the contact list and put it directly into the highest-level red confidential evidence bag.

He knew very well what it meant for this name to appear in the liaison book for the Lingang urban renewal project. This information absolutely could not circulate within the Handong area; it had to be reported directly to the top leadership in Beijing.

...

That evening, in the interrogation room.

The light from the incandescent bulb shone on Du Qishan's face. He sat in the interrogation chair, looking like a dried-out old turtle, listless and dejected.

Lei Ming slammed the copy of the address book on the table, pointing to the names on it: "Du Qishan, everything's here. Explain yourself. How do you, a deputy director of the provincial development and reform commission, have the private contact information of these important figures in Beijing?"

Du Qishan lowered his head, his voice hoarse: "I... I was just responsible for making the pen holders for the materials back then. I just wrote whatever the leaders told me to write."

"Who are the materials for?"

"For Wang Zonghui."

Du Qishan swallowed hard. "The Lingang project needs to be packaged under the guise of a 'Comprehensive Financial Innovation Pilot Zone.' Local reports won't get through; we need experts and leaders from Beijing to help us with the packaging."

"Why is Zhong Weimin in your contacts?" Lei Ming cut straight to the point.

Du Qishan raised his head, his eyes filled with extreme fear, as if even mentioning the name was too hot to handle: "He... he wasn't the direct contact person for the Lingang project. But he was in charge of the relevant macro-approval channels back then."

Wang Zonghui specifically instructed that the policy statements regarding "overseas quotas" and "industrial funds" in the report must be reviewed privately by the Chung family beforehand to ensure that the wording was flawless and to avoid giving them grounds for criticism later in the procedural process.

Lei Ming stared at him: "Where's Bai Wangshan? What role did he play in there?"

"Old Bai never touches any specific materials, not even his signature."

Du Qishan gave a wry smile. "He was only responsible for setting the direction. Back then, at an internal meeting, Bai Lao set the tone, saying that Lingang must serve as a model for the reform of Handong, and that we must take big steps and not be held back by the local 'conservative forces'."

Who are these "conservative forces"?

Du Qishan remained silent.

Lei Ming slammed his fist on the table, his voice booming in the interrogation room: "Speak! Now that things have come to this, whose cover-up are you still trying to cover for?"

"Refers to...refers to those who oppose opening special channels."

Du Qishan shuddered and spilled the beans, saying, "Back then, many cadres in the province were firmly opposed to introducing overseas procurement into the old city renovation project, and even more opposed to putting workers' resettlement funds and industrial funds into one pool. They believed that this was opening a back door for the loss of state-owned assets."

What happened to these people afterward?

Du Qishan lowered his head, not daring to look Lei Ming in the eye: "Some were transferred to sinecure positions, some were investigated for misconduct by anonymous whistleblowers, and some were directly arranged for early retirement. Liang Qunfeng was in charge of blocking them in terms of organizational and personnel matters, the political and legal system was in charge of suppressing their appeals and petitions, and the court was in charge of quickly mediating and confirming some disputed assets."

A perfect combination of tactics. Suppressing dissent in the name of reform, and clearing obstacles through organizational procedures.

Lei Ming asked coldly, "Was Gao Yuliang involved at the time?"

Du Qishan thought for a moment and shook his head: "Gao Yuliang wasn't high enough in rank at the time, and he hadn't entered the inner circle yet. He knew how complicated things were, but he wasn't the decision-maker. He only started dealing with the aftermath of these messy accounts after he gained power in the political and legal system, in order to gain Zhao Lichun's support."

This sentence is extremely important.

This completely explains why the supervisory team was so troubled by Gao Yuliang's problem.

Gao Yuliang is guilty, but he was not the source of the pollution. He later acted as a protector, but he was not the one who dug the pit back then.

His horrific suicide attempt created a negative political impact, but inadvertently unraveled the real web of corruption.

Lei Ming pushed a stack of blank transcripts in front of Du Qishan and handed him a pen.

"Keep writing. List out one by one the cadres who opposed the Lingang Special Channel back then and were later purged by you for being labeled 'conservative'."

Du Qishan looked at the blank sheet of paper, gave a bitter laugh, and his eyes reddened: "Director Lei, more than twenty years have passed, and some people... their ashes have all turned cold, they're all gone."

"Write it down, whether you're alive or dead." Lei Ming's tone left no room for negotiation.

Du Qishan picked up the pen with trembling hands.

The pen tip landed on the paper, making a harsh scratching sound.

He knew very well that once this list was completed, a large number of political injustices would be added to the Han Dong officialdom, requiring further investigation and resolution.

Those who were unjustly accused of "not understanding reform," "being conservative," and "not supporting local development," and who suffered injustice and even died in despair,

Finally, after twenty-three years, I will slowly crawl out of the pile of yellowed old papers.