Nominal: Hou Liangping blocking the door? He was slapped away!

Flight CA1588 landed on time at Kyoto International Airport.

The moment the cabin door opened, a gust of dry, cold north wind rushed in.

Zhao Lichun stepped out of the first-class cabin, his footsteps echoing dully as they landed on the metal gangway.

He looked terrible.

With sunken eyes, prominent cheekbones, and dry skin on her lips, she looked as if all the moisture had been drained from her body.

I didn't sleep a wink all night.

The "six to five" figure from the Standing Committee meeting was like a rusty nail, stuck in his head, impossible to pull out.

The image shows Li Dakang raising his hand.

The image shows Wu Chunlin tearing open a brown paper bag.

The image shows Gao Yuliang with his fingers interlaced and his face expressionless.

The images played on repeat before his eyes, frame by frame, making his temples throb all night.

On the tarmac below the gangway, a black sedan was already waiting with its engine off.

The car door opened from the inside, and a middle-aged man in a dark suit quickly came forward.

"Secretary Zhao, the car is ready."

Zhao Lichun didn't say anything, but bent down and got into the back seat.

The car door closed, the car started immediately, drove out of the airport express lane, and merged into the dense traffic of Kyoto's morning rush hour.

Forty minutes later.

The car turned into an old alley in the heart of Kyoto, so narrow that only one car could pass at a time.

The alley is flanked by tall gray brick walls, the tops of which are covered with withered yellow ivy.

The first sentry post.

Two heavily armed guards stopped the car, carefully checked the license plate number and Zhao Lichun's ID before raising the barrier.

The second sentry post.

The same process was followed, with the addition of undercarriage checks and personal belongings inspections.

The car eventually stopped in the bluestone courtyard inside the traditional courtyard house.

Zhao Lichun pushed open the car door and stood on the bluestone slab.

He looked down at his dark suit, pulled hard on the wrinkles at the hem, and straightened his tie.

Take a deep breath.

He lifted his foot and stepped into the main hall.

The red-lacquered doors of the main hall were half-open, and a faint scent of sandalwood wafted out.

In the center of the main room, an elderly man with gray hair sat upright in a carved armchair.

The dark gray Zhongshan suit was buttoned up tightly from top to bottom.

He held a purple clay teacup in his left hand, while his right thumb and forefinger were slowly rubbing the edge of the lid.

A huge painting of pine trees and cranes symbolizing longevity hangs on the main wall of the hall.

On either side of the painting hangs a group photo framed in mahogany.

The photo on the left is yellowed, with the Tiananmen Rostrum as the background. The faces standing in the center are familiar to any Chinese person.

The one on the right is slightly newer, and the background looks like a long table in a conference room.

The same person appears in both photos.

This is the old man sitting in the armchair right now.

Su Zhenhai.

His gaze was fixed on Zhao Lichun as he walked in.

After seeing Zhao Lichun's expression, he stopped serving tea.

"Lichun, what's wrong with you?"

Zhao Lichun walked up to Su Zhenhai and plopped down in the chair opposite him.

He braced his hands on his knees, looked down, and gasped for breath.

"Old Party Secretary."

His throat was dry, and his voice was hoarse beyond recognition.

"Something has happened in Handong."

Su Zhenhai frowned.

"What is it? Sit down and tell me the whole story."

In less than five minutes, Zhao Lichun recounted everything that had happened in Handong over the past two months.

From Zhu Jichang being sent to the Discipline Inspection Commission by an official letter, to Wu Chunlin's last-minute defection at the Standing Committee meeting and the production of pre-prepared assessment materials.

From Li Dakang being the first to jump out and oppose the decision in front of all the Standing Committee members, to the final vote of 6 to 5, the position of Secretary of the Lüzhou Municipal Party Committee fell into the hands of Shen Zhong's wife, He Xia.

After the meeting, Liu Changchun seized the opportunity and placed his chief secretary in the Hexi District.

He didn't embellish it.

He did not offer any explanation for himself.

He simply stated the facts one by one in the driest tone.

But it was precisely this restraint that made Su Zhenhai on the other end realize that the situation was far more serious than it appeared.

After Zhao Lichun finished speaking, he remained silent for a few seconds.

He raised his head and looked into Su Zhenhai's eyes.

"Old leader, this Shen Zhong isn't here to be a member of the Standing Committee in military uniform."

Zhao Lichun's voice went completely hoarse.

His jaw was clenched so tightly that the muscles in his face were twitching irregularly.

"He's here to sabotage me."

"His goal was to eliminate me and everyone around me from Handong, leaving no one behind."

The main hall remained quiet for a long time.

Su Zhenhai's expression changed from displeasure to solemnity, and then from solemnity to ashen.

He slowly put down the purple clay teacup in his hand.

"Li Dakang was trained by you."

Su Zhenhai's voice was very low.

"Wu Chunlin was also nominated by you."

"You can't even control your own people? How can you be a provincial party secretary?"

This statement hurts more than all the knives Zhao Lichun suffered at the Standing Committee meeting.

Zhao Lichun's face turned bright red, his lips trembled twice, and he didn't dare to reply with a single word.

Su Zhenhai stared at him for a full five seconds.

Then, he slowly stood up.

The elderly man, who was over seventy years old, stood up with remarkable steadiness.

"But no matter what, Handong is a territory we've worked so hard to stabilize over the years."

Su Zhenhai walked around the tea table and strode towards the study.

His steps were heavy and powerful, each foot thudding on the blue brick floor.

"A young major general who has just been transferred to a local position dares to push my people to the brink of death."

His voice was even lower, but every word was as firm as iron.

"Does he think there's no one left in Handong?"

"Bang!"

He turned the purple clay teacup back and slammed it heavily on the mahogany table, splashing tea that soaked a scroll of calligraphy on the table.

Zhao Lichun's shoulders twitched.

He had followed Su Zhenhai for over thirty years, and he could count the number of times he had seen the old man get this angry on one hand.

Su Zhenhai stood in front of the desk.

He reached out and grabbed the red secure telephone receiver from the corner of the table.

A number was dialed.

The call was connected very quickly.

"Old Zhou, it's me."

Su Zhenhai's tone returned to calm, but what was suppressed in that calm was more unsettling than anger.

"A new deputy secretary named Shen Zhong was recently appointed in the Handong Provincial Military Region. What's his background?"

He paused for a second.

"I need to know whose people he is, which line he's on, who recommended him to Handong, and how deep his network of connections is."

……

As Zhao Lichun listened to Su Zhenhai's words, the anxiety that had been hanging over him all night finally subsided.

The old leader has made a move. No matter who is behind Shen Zhong, as long as Su Zhenhai is willing to get involved, it's not something a major general can handle.