Chapter 27: The House Returns to Its Rightful Owner

His attitude shifted to one of profound deference. With a sycophantic smile, he approached Jiang Zhaoyang and said, "Director Jiang, I apologize for my behavior earlier. Please forgive me!"

Jiang Zhaoyang looked up in surprise, as if he could not believe his own ears.

He Di continued, "Now, I am returning the property to its rightful owner! Oh, I misspoke," he corrected himself with a wave of his hand, "it should be 'returning the room to its rightful owner.' This office was yours to begin with; I shall move out immediately. You are still the master here, and everything in this room is yours to use. Aside from the desk and chair, I am taking nothing."

Having said this, he immediately called out, "Zhang Mingwei, Li Yi, help me move the desk and chair out. Quickly now!"

Zhang Mingwei and Li Yi stood frozen in place, utterly bewildered. What game was Director He playing? Just moments ago, he had been fuming with rage, the tension in the office thick enough to cut with a knife. How had he transformed in the blink of an eye? Why was he suddenly so docile, even obsequious? Had Mayor Lin brainwashed him, warning him not to provoke someone he couldn't afford to offend? This Director Jiang was truly someone to be reckoned with.

Recovering their senses, the two men dared not delay. They stacked He Di’s heavy desk and chair together and hauled them out of the office. The furniture was cumbersome, leaving them drenched in sweat and gasping for breath.

Xia Beili and Bai Wei were not idle either. They picked up brooms and rags to begin cleaning, despite the fact that the room had just been tidied. Xia Beili took a soft cloth, dabbed it with a bit of detergent, and meticulously wiped every inch of the desk, not missing even the smallest crevices. Meanwhile, Bai Wei swept from one end of the room to the other, her sharp eyes scanning for the slightest speck of dust.

Before long, Zhang Mingwei and Li Yi returned, dripping with sweat. They carefully moved Jiang Zhaoyang’s desk and chair back into the room, then joined in to mop the floor and clean the windows. Soon, the windows sparkled, allowing the sunlight to stream in and fill the room with a brilliant glow. The floor was spotless, the tiles reflecting a soft luster, and Jiang Zhaoyang’s furniture looked as good as new.

Jiang Zhaoyang saw all of this with clear eyes. He knew well that such warmth and care would not last. In a few days, save for Bai Wei, these busybodies would return to their cold indifference—if they didn't resort to kicking him while he was down. He understood that unless he could rise above his current adversity, the situation would remain unchanged.

Once they had finished, Jiang Zhaoyang said, "You should get back to your own work. I have work to do as well."

"Director Jiang, if you need anything, just call or give us a shout. We'll be here in an instant!" Li Yi replied obsequiously.

"Very well, I understand." Jiang Zhaoyang knew that in a few days, he wouldn't even be able to get their attention, let alone their assistance; he would be lucky if they didn't look right through him or cast him disdainful glances.

"Right! We'll be going then!" They bade him farewell with smiles and retreated from his office.

Jiang Zhaoyang sat slowly in the slightly worn chair behind his desk. He leaned back, seeking a moment of respite from his exhaustion. He carefully produced the research report and began to study it. Every line, every data point, and every analysis represented his hard work and intellect. It was still only a draft, awaiting final refinement, but he calculated that in two or three days, he would be able to finish it.

He felt as though he were in a state of "waiting to be punished," though not in the sense of "atoning for one's crimes through meritorious service." He thought of history—of the early Ming Dynasty, when Zhu Yuanzhang’s purges were so brutal that officials were harvested like leeks. Under his draconian laws, scholars viewed an official career as a path to doom, and those in office lived in constant, palpitating fear, knowing that a minor infraction could land them in prison. Their ultimate fates remained unknown, but they were forced to wear shackles while presiding over cases, only to be thrown back into prison for hard labor once their duties were done. There was no "atoning through service" for them.

How similar his situation was to theirs. Though he was not in such dire straits, he was merely in a larger prison. He sighed; he knew that once this report was finished, he would be sent off to guard the reservoir.

Despite his lingering resentment and helplessness, he knew this was an unchangeable reality. He could try to stall for a few more days, but that would only be a temporary escape. Besides, it was not his style, nor did it reflect his work ethic. To procrastinate was a disgrace.

Jiang Zhaoyang buried himself in his work. The day passed in a blur. When he left the office after hours, he felt a subtle change in the attitudes of those around him. People who had previously avoided him or dodged his gaze were now initiating greetings, even acting with enthusiasm. He had regained his former status, yet he knew it was fleeting—it would vanish with the shifting winds. He did not harbor illusions that these cheap smiles would last.

After a quick dinner at the canteen, he returned to his dormitory. A sense of emptiness, or perhaps a profound confusion, washed over him. He thought of his father; he firmly believed in his father’s innocence, but reality stood like a thick wall, isolating them. He could neither see his father nor learn the details of his case. What could he do?

Jiang Zhaoyang was at his wit's end. He reached into his inner pocket and carefully pulled out his worn address book, its edges curled with age. His fingers traced the densely packed names, each one a dusty memory brushing against his heart. His eyes, filled with urgency and bewilderment, searched this sea of memories for someone who might help him in his current predicament.

Just as his gaze began to wander and he was about to abandon the futile search, a name caught his eye. At that moment, his eyes lit up, as if touched by an invisible force.