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

After He Wenqing finished speaking, he slowly reached out to pick up the rather old-fashioned thermos cup on the table.

He gripped the lid and twisted it twice.

It wasn't unscrewed.

There was a slight awkwardness in the atmosphere for a moment.

But he wasn't in a hurry. He lowered his head and slowly changed his grip. His nonchalant demeanor was as if the words "I am the master strategist, and you are all nobodies" were written on his forehead.

Lei Ming sat to the side, watching the old man forcefully pretend to be calm, and couldn't help but mentally complain: He's seventy-eight years old, his hands are weak, what's he trying to do by acting so profound?

He was about to ask for the specific numbers of the bank and safe deposit box when Zhou Zhengming raised his hand to interrupt him.

Zhou Zhengming didn't follow the script at all. He first turned around and called over the medical staff, and solemnly checked He Wenqing's heart rate to confirm that the old man's heart could still withstand the conversation. Only then did he slowly turn to the next page of the notebook in his hand.

"Whose name is the safe deposit box registered under? When was it last opened? Besides you, who else has the right to withdraw from it?" Zhou Zhengming asked in rapid succession.

He Wenqing raised his eyelids and retorted, "Aren't you going to ask first what earth-shattering secret is inside that box?"

"If you're willing to talk, of course we'll take notes."

Zhou Zhengming shrugged, looking nonchalant. "But we haven't gotten our hands on the stuff yet. We need to figure out how we got it first. What if it contains love letters you wrote when you were young? We can't use that as evidence against corruption, can we?"

He Wenqing's hand, holding the cup, froze in mid-air.

He had thought that by throwing out such a big bait, the two young men opposite him would at least show some eagerness and their eyes would light up.

When people are in a hurry, they have room to bargain and can control the pace of things.

But this Zhou Zhengming was so meticulous about every detail, not even bothering to overlook trivial matters like how many times the rental procedures had been changed. He was acting like a salesman checking his bank service contract.

"Aren't you afraid I'll suddenly change my mind and not pay?" He Wenqing sneered, trying to regain his composure.

Lei Ming couldn't help but chuckle: "That's great! We'll just record it in the statement: Mr. He suddenly changed his mind at 3:15 this afternoon. You're seventy-eight years old, we can't exactly drag you to the bank to put your fingerprints on, can we? Whatever makes you happy."

He Wenqing was so speechless that he almost couldn't catch his breath. He finally faced reality and honestly reported the bank's name and registration details.

Then he started making demands, saying that the materials were from a long time ago and some private letters were mixed with work records. He hoped that the task force would be lenient and not include every name in the case, causing a huge uproar.

"How to classify the materials is our job, so you don't need to worry about it."

Zhou Zhengming retorted without hesitation, "You're responsible for clearly explaining which parts you personally experienced and which parts you heard secondhand. Also, handing over the materials is your obligation to cooperate with the investigation, not for you to exchange them for a pre-arranged life-saving measure. We don't guarantee a profit in this deal."

The old man was completely speechless. When he finally signed the record, he angrily crossed out the word "all" in "all working papers".

Zhou Zhengming watched from the side, secretly amused, but didn't stop him and let him change his mind.

Anyway, once the box is opened, whether it contains everything or not is up to them to decide.

......

That afternoon, the special task force, carrying all the necessary documents, went straight to the bank and retrieved the items from the safe deposit box.

The entire process was recorded on video, and even the bank's rental and opening records were meticulously documented separately.

The young cadres were initially excited, expecting to find gold bars, US dollars, or a black leather diary filled with top-secret codes when they opened the box. However, they were greatly disappointed when they opened it.

The box wasn't big, and there wasn't a single coin inside, let alone cash.

There were only a few tattered leather-bound workbooks, two old-looking kraft paper bags, and a stack of meeting schedules neatly tied with orderly cotton thread.

"This old He, turns out he's a storage maniac." Lei Ming couldn't help but complain as he looked at the contents of the box.

He Wenqing's meticulousness in preserving things is truly astonishing.

Each book cover not only has the year written on it, but also important pages are marked with colorful paper labels. Even the traces of his repainting on some of the paper labels after they faded are still clearly visible.

Some of the younger cadres couldn't contain their excitement while taking inventory and wanted to quickly flip through the pages, but Director Han stopped them and had someone take 360-degree photos of the original placement of each book, making sure not to remove the seams for the time being.

"How he stored them, which books he put in first and which he put in last, is itself extremely important information. That old fox, who knows what kind of code he left in the order of placement," Director Han said, stroking his chin with a deep expression.

That evening, Zhou Zhengming received the first batch of inventory lists.

A quick glance revealed that the content related to Handong was not as extensive as expected. It was scattered haphazardly across different years, sometimes taking up only half a page, and was written in a more perfunctory manner than a diary.

However, a circulated slip tucked inside one of the workbooks caught Zhou Zhengming's attention.

The main text of the circulation slip has disappeared, leaving only a lonely number, the date of delivery, and a few illegible, messy signature marks.

The title of the circulated leaflet was quite intimidating: "Summary of Risks Related to Historical Projects in Handong".

What's even more interesting is that the three documents sent on the same day had the exact same serial number, but the number of attachments were five, three, and two, respectively.

Lei Ming stared at the scanned document for a long time, then scratched his head: "Boss, one summary report, three different configurations? Is this ordering takeout for the leaders? Some want a family bucket, some just want a hamburger, and some even skipped the Coke?"

"It could also be due to differences in the level and scope of distribution. Don't rush to define it, lest you form preconceived notions."

Zhou Zhengming highlighted this page separately, a sharp glint in his eyes. "Tomorrow, ask He Wenqing to explain this appendix list, and also check the original document receipt records. This flimsy list alone can't prove what he deleted or who saw what."

Without hesitation, Zhou Zhengming immediately called Qin Yuanzhou and sent the excerpts that did not involve the specific recipients to Handong, asking Gao Yuliang, a "handyman from Handong," to help identify the writing style from back then.

Gao Yuliang is currently only allowed access to a limited range of materials. Although Zhou Zhengming has found the collaboration with him quite smooth recently, he is absolutely not so careless as to move the entire secret of the safe deposit box onto Gao Yuliang's desk.

At this moment, in the provincial party committee compound far away in Handong, Gao Yuliang was facing the biggest crisis of his life—being urged by Wu Huifen to have his blood pressure taken.

When Xiaolin pushed open the door to the study, Gao Yuliang was wearing a bitter face. His left sleeve was rolled up halfway, revealing his arm, while his other hand was reaching out like a thief to the document bag that had just been delivered to the table.

Wu Huifen reacted quickly, slamming the electronic blood pressure monitor onto the table and giving him a sharp, menacing glare.

"Take your blood pressure first! You're not a typewriter in the provincial party committee office. Even if you're five minutes late reading the documents, the power won't go out at Dahan East Station, and the earth will still keep turning!" Wu Huifen reprimanded mercilessly.

Gao Yuliang chuckled twice, then reluctantly withdrew his hand from the briefcase and obediently put his arm into the blood pressure monitor cuff.

As the machine's buzzing inflating stopped, he looked at the three numbers that appeared on the screen, and his face, which had initially held a slightly helpless smile, gradually turned serious.

"Xiao Lin, please tell Zhou Zhengming."

Gao Yuliang pointed to the document bag, "Don't just check who received this material, you also need to check who requested fewer attachments back then."

Xiao Lin quickly pulled out his notebook and pen: "Teacher Gao, do you mean that He Wenqing deliberately left this page blank? Is he setting a trap for us?"

"That's possible, but it could also be that he's having an obsessive-compulsive episode and is just archiving normally. You guys shouldn't assume that every page of this is a world-shaking secret just because he's hiding it like a treasure. You'll be misled by that."

Gao Yuliang laid the materials flat on the table, tapping his fingers lightly on the surface. "That old rascal He Wenqing used to be a secretary, he's shrewder than anyone. He knows everything. When a leader signs 'read' on it, in officialdom, that only proves that the leader has seen the submitted document."

As for the two-page attachments that weren't submitted, the leader can simply shrug and say, "I don't know." What's that called? That's called being able to attack or defend as needed.

Wu Huifen sat down beside him, shaking her head as she listened: "So, according to you, the incomplete set of documents he left in his safe might actually be the most advantageous explanation for himself?"

"At least, this is the set of rules he is willing to keep and the set of rules he is willing to let the task force see."

Gao Yuliang nodded and sneered, "Just because he voluntarily handed over the materials doesn't mean he voluntarily gave the task force the power of choice. If he says that a certain matter has been collectively discussed, you're expected to foolishly search for the meeting schedule left by others; if he says that it should be edited according to the leader's opinion, you're expected to search the whole world for the original manuscript."

Don't let the person handing over the drafts accidentally write out your subsequent investigation outlines as well; otherwise, you'll be led by the nose.

Xiao Lin scribbled furiously, and after finishing, he couldn't help but look up at Gao Yuliang with a complicated expression: "Professor Gao... actually, our task force also checked your own materials bit by bit in the same way."

Upon hearing this, Gao Yuliang paused slightly, then burst into laughter, his laughter revealing a touch of nonchalance: "That's how it should be! You can't just leave me, Gao Yuliang, with nothing but empty words like 'trust comrades and rely on comrades,' can you? If you did, your task force would be too easily fooled."

Although he spoke eloquently, when he handed the excerpt back to Kobayashi, his fingers paused for a moment on the edge of the paper.

Since transmigrating to this world, he has relied on his advanced memories and keen judgment to tear a crack in a dead end.

But the further he went, the less familiar the people and things around him were with the story he knew.

The butterfly effect has already taken hold. He can see through He Wenqing's schemes at a glance and warns Zhou Zhengming not to be led astray, but at the same time, he must constantly keep a warning in mind:

You must never mistake a few correct guesses for absolute memory. If you do that, you'll inevitably fail sooner or later.

As Xiaolin packed his things to leave, Wu Huifen turned around, took out a thermal lunchbox from the kitchen, and shoved it into Xiaolin's hand. Inside was a box full of untouched handmade dumplings.

Xiao Lin was flattered and repeatedly waved her hands to say no, but Gao Yuliang waved his hand behind her and said with great authority, "Take it! Write it as your dinner when you get back. Don't be silly and think that I, Gao Yuliang, am treating you in violation of the rules. It's just dumplings, no big deal."

The courtyard gate closed gently. Wu Huifen put away the blood pressure monitor on the table. When she turned around, she found Gao Yuliang still sitting in the chair, staring blankly at the place where he had just put the documents.

"What? Still thinking about those three missing or underweight attachments?" Wu Huifen asked casually.

"I'm thinking..."

Gao Yuliang sighed, his eyes deep. "In this officialdom, how many people signed 'read' with a stroke of their pen back then, only to forget what they were even reading back then?"

At the same time, the special task force in Kyoto made a new discovery and immediately sent the latest inventory results to Zhou Zhengming.

Among the three mailing receipts attached to the circulation slip, one clearly stated that it was sent to the General Office of the Handong Provincial Committee; and on the registration page next to it, there was a yellowed reissue receipt glued on.

The receipt requested a replacement of the third attachment that had mysteriously disappeared when the first shipment was sent.

What does this tell us?

This shows that the staff at the document receiving office back then weren't completely blind and didn't completely ignore the missing attachment.

Indeed, some people have asked about it, and some have discovered something fishy.

But was there ever a response to this request for a replacement?

Was that mysterious third attachment actually reissued?

In He Wenqing's workbook, which was more detailed than a Xinhua Dictionary, not a single word was written down in this most crucial place.

It's as if someone forcibly erased this history from the pages of paper.