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

When Chen Yanshi returned home, it was already dark.

He was given the cold shoulder at the provincial party committee compound, where a young man in his early thirties from the supervision team silenced him with a recording pen, leaving him seething with anger.

He wanted to go home and complain to his wife, Wang Fuzhen, about how these bureaucrats don't respect the elderly, but he found the house dark and freezing cold.

Wang Fuzhen sat alone on the sofa, clutching a tissue in her hand, her eyes red and swollen.

Chen Yang's room door was open, the bed was neatly made, and the black suitcase was gone.

"Where's Yangyang?"

Chen Yanshi's heart skipped a beat, and his cane made a dull thud on the wooden floor.

Wang Fuzhen didn't look up, her voice hoarse: "She went to the airport. She said this home is too cold, her brother is lying in the hospital, his life hanging in the balance, and you, as his father, still have the leisure to run around for outsiders."

Chen Yanshi's face instantly turned a deep purplish-red, and he slammed his cane down heavily: "Nonsense! I did it for the greater good of Handong! It was to seek justice for Xiao Jinzi... for Comrade Sha Ruijin! Without the greater good, where does the personal interest come from?!"

"The bigger picture? Fairness?"

Wang Fuzhen suddenly stood up, slamming the tissue in her hand onto the coffee table. Tears streamed down her face. "Chen Yanshi, your whole life's grand plan was to use your daughter's happiness as a stepping stone and your son's life and death as a backdrop! You may have the people of all of Handong in your heart, you may have your 'Little Gold,' but have you ever cared about this family?!"

After saying that, Wang Fuzhen covered her face, turned around and went into the bedroom, locking the door with a "bang".

Chen Yanshi stood alone in the living room, feeling the humiliation he had suffered at the provincial party committee mixed with the cold air in the house, filling his lungs with cold and pain.

He couldn't understand why, after a lifetime of honesty and integrity and dedication to public service, he had become a lonely old man.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became, feeling that the culprit behind all of this was that old fox, Gao Yuliang!

"No, I have to see him! I want to expose this political rogue's charade to his face!"

Chen Yanshi, panting heavily, grabbed the landline and dialed the Provincial Party Committee's Bureau of Veteran Cadres directly.

On the other end of the phone, the section chief of the Veteran Cadres Bureau was about to leave work when he heard it was Chen Yanshi. His scalp tingled, and he could only use the most tactful official language to evade the question: "Oh, Mr. Chen, it's not that I don't want to make arrangements for you. Comrade Gao Yuliang is currently a key person under investigation, and the supervisory team is in charge. Let alone you, even if the governor wanted to see him, he would need Team Leader Qin's signature..."

"Don't try to intimidate me with rules! When I joined the revolution, you weren't even liquid!"

Chen Yanshi roared.

"Old Chen, times have changed. Now Handong only recognizes rules, not seniority. If you really want to see me, perhaps... you could write an application first?"

The section chief's subtle rebuff was both accurate and ruthless.

"Bang!"

Chen Yanshi slammed the phone down.

……

The next morning, two minivans quietly parked in front of the archives building of the Provincial Party Committee Organization Department.

The people who got off the car were all unfamiliar faces. They all had serious expressions, wore worn-out jackets, and carried identical black briefcases.

There were no welcome banners, no flashbulbs, and even the hot tea that the Organization Department wanted to offer was politely turned away at the door.

Lao Qi, the executive deputy director of the Organization Department, stood on the steps, his smile more like a grimace.

He had worked in organizational work for half his life, and what he feared most was that the archives building would be targeted by outsiders.

Because archives are inanimate objects in normal times, but once they "come alive," they show no mercy, no regard for rank, and no matter whether you've retired or not; every word can be fatal.

Zhou Zhengming personally led the team.

He stood in front of rows of cold metal cabinets, his eyes completely expressionless, as if he were looking not at files, but at corpses lying in the morgue.

"Team Leader Zhou,"

Old Qi rubbed his hands, trying to make a last-ditch effort. "This archive building is a top-secret location for the provincial party committee, with a vast amount of historical files. According to confidentiality regulations, accessing files classified as Class A or higher requires a procedure and the signature of the provincial leader in charge..."

"Old Qi, you're quite good at Tai Chi."

Zhou Zhengming turned to look at him, a half-smile on his face. "But I don't have time to play games with you today. This is the transfer order from the Central Supervision Group, stamped with the seal of the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection. If you think this seal isn't as effective as your supervisor's signature, I can call Secretary Lu right now and have him come over personally to handle the formalities for you."

Cold sweat immediately broke out on Lao Qi's forehead. He waved his hands repeatedly, saying, "No, no! Team Leader Zhou is joking. We'll cooperate fully!"

"Cooperation is not just about shouting slogans."

Zhou Zhengming's smile faded, and his voice rang out clearly in the quiet archives room. "Today, we'll only be checking three types of files. First, the graduate placement records of the Department of Political Science and Law at Handong University over the past thirty years, which contain anomalies. Second, the provincial political and legal system, where outstanding cadres whose promotions have been suppressed for a long time after receiving awards and commendations. Third, in cadre transfers, where the same leader or their secretary repeatedly issued 'guidance' instructions at key junctures."

Old Qi's face turned green. These three points were all aimed at digging up the Liang family's ancestral graves!

"All file access requires double registration and is recorded on video."

Zhou Zhengming issued a strict order: "Anyone who wants to make a phone call or go to the restroom during work hours must first report to our staff. If anyone's cell phone rings 'accidentally,' the caller ID and the content of the call must be recorded."

In the corner, Zhao Donglai, who had been called over to "assist in the work," watched with great satisfaction.

Previously, when he, the police chief, came to the organization department to ask for some materials, he had to go through half a day of procedures and have to put up with the attitudes of these big shots.

When Zhou Zhengming arrived today, everyone lined up obediently, behaving like grandsons.

That's what power is all about!

In the archives room, several retired archivists with gray hair were temporarily invited back. They sat upright, so nervous that they didn't know where to put their hands.

Zhou Zhengming didn't scare them; instead, he had chairs brought over and hot water poured in.

"Master craftsmen, the reason I've invited you here today is not to assign blame, but to ask you to act as translators of history."

Zhou Zhengming said in a gentle tone, "Say what you know, don't embellish it yourself, and don't polish it for others. Every word you say has the support of the supervisory team."

A female archivist wearing reading glasses looked at a photocopy of a document about Qi Tongwei on the table, her fingers trembling slightly as she held the paper.

"Do you know him?"

Zhou Zhengming keenly noticed this detail.

The female archivist was silent for a few seconds, then sighed: "How could I not recognize him? That boy was a celebrity at Han University back in the day. He was handsome, had top grades, and was the student council president. So many girls were chasing after him."

"Then why were you assigned to Yantaishan Valley after graduation?"

The female archivist glanced at the camera flashing a red light in the corner of the room, her lips moved, but she didn't say anything.

"Sister Ma, please feel free to speak."

Zhou Zhengming called out her surname, "This room is safer than the provincial party secretary's safe today."

The female archivist, affectionately known as Sister Ma, finally made up her mind: "Sigh... Back then, the proposal submitted by the Department of Political Science and Law was to keep him at the university, and the Provincial Procuratorate even came to ask for him. The materials were all at the final stage when suddenly they were rejected from above, saying that this student was not mature enough and needed to go to the most difficult place to receive re-education from the poor and lower-middle peasants."

"Who called back?" Zhao Donglai couldn't help but ask.

"No specific person was mentioned."

Sister Ma gave a wry smile. "The call that the school's Party Committee received was from Secretary Liang's secretary, conveying the opinions of 'relevant parties.' Later, Chen Yanshi's letter was added to the materials, which was considered a formality."

"Is there a record of the phone conversation?"

"When a leader's secretary makes a phone call, is there any record left?"

Sister Ma shook her head. "However, there was a sentence in the minutes of the Party Committee meeting that day that I've remembered for the rest of my life—'Based on the opinions of relevant parties, the issue of the student's post-graduation destination will be re-examined.'"

Zhou Zhengming immediately said to the staff, "The original text of the investigation report!"

Soon, the yellowed meeting minutes were brought to the table.

The sentence was written with a fountain pen, the handwriting neat, yet it exuded a chilling coldness.

"Relevant parties".

Zhao Dong felt a tightness in his chest. This was the most insidious way of killing in officialdom—no blood, no knife, and not even the identity of the murderer could be pointed out.

With just those four simple words, a young man's future was ruined.

Just then, another elderly archivist who had been silent all along suddenly spoke up: "Qi Tongwei wasn't the only one ruined by those four words."