“That’s a ridiculous slander.”

Today, Lian Cheng and Jiang Xiaochuan had changed seats by the window and spoke in a casual tone.

Jiang Xiaochuan knew he was referring to what had happened with Zhou Qian before. Lian Cheng was well aware that Jiang Xiaochuan had no involvement in the accusations Zhou Qian made.

“It’s a pity that knowing is useless,” Jiang Xiaochuan said, holding the teacup with both hands as he gazed at the fallen leaves outside the window. Autumn was approaching swiftly. Never before had he felt Chengzhou’s distinct four seasons so keenly.

It was early spring when he had started anew, and now, after a brief summer, autumn was upon them. The changes over the past six months had been immense, almost seismic. Although it seemed he had accomplished little, these days had shaken the entire political landscape of Chengzhou.

A detailed tally of the officials dismissed from office in Chengzhou spawned a ludicrous illusion. Was this really not child’s play, but the game of officialdom?

Lian Cheng and Jiang Xiaochuan found themselves with little to say to each other. At such times, all Lian Cheng could manage was, “Yes, it’s useless to just know it.”

In reality, both knew Jiang Xiaochuan’s path had nearly reached its end.

He wouldn’t perish; he would simply depart from his original trajectory.

Choosing to immerse himself in this niche rather than escape was already a form of courage. Jiang Xiaochuan sometimes wondered why he hadn’t fled. Perhaps if he had resigned outright from the start or simply led a mediocre life, everything would have remained calm. Many wouldn’t have died, had accidents, or felt confused and uneasy. His life might have been like a stagnant pool, but at least there would be no stormy waves. Yet, he had chosen to remain in officialdom. From his perspective, he couldn’t discern what was right or wrong.

“Lian Cheng, let me ask you something off-limits. What did Zhang Xiaoli say?”

Zhang Xiaoli, Jiang Xiaochuan’s former secretary, hadn’t been in contact with him for some time, yet she must have known him well given her intelligence. Now that Zhou Qian had launched a counterattack, would Zhang Xiaoli align with Zhou Qian and turn against Jiang Xiaochuan, or would she maintain her initial stance?

Zhou Qian was imprisoned and had no grievances with Jiang Xiaochuan. Why had he suddenly accused him? This in itself was perplexing. If someone hadn’t influenced Zhou Qian during his imprisonment, he would never have acted this way.

Moreover, Zhou Qian and Zhang Xiaoli still loved each other. When Zhou Qian learned about Zhang Xiaoli’s miscarriage, he had been deeply distressed and had done everything to comfort her. Yet now, he was accusing Jiang Xiaochuan. How would Zhang Xiaoli respond?

Lian Cheng was well-informed. He monitored developments closely and harbored numerous doubts.

“Zhang Xiaoli remained completely silent during the interrogation and didn’t utter a word.”

Silence was her prerogative.

However, her silence indicated uncertainty about what to do next.

It seemed there was really something inside.

Jiang Xiaochuan thought of the charges related to him and suddenly laughed, “What am I afraid of now? I’m already covered in dirt.”

“You’re not like them. Don’t talk nonsense,” Lian Cheng said, clasping his hands. He frowned slightly, dissatisfied with Jiang Xiaochuan’s words.

“If Zhang Xiaoli also identifies me and provides evidence, can you still stand firm in your thoughts just now?” Jiang Xiaochuan asked, though he was certain of his innocence regarding the investment issue.

What if those people suddenly produced evidence just throw rocks on him?

Would Lian Cheng believe the so-called ‘irrefutable evidence’?

The Central Commission for Discipline Inspection was a perilous place today.

Lian Cheng gazed into the distance. Clear sunlight streamed through the glass window, illuminating the table where hot tea steamed and moistened the windowpane. His eyes were as clear and translucent as the sunlight.

Jiang Xiaochuan looked at Lian Cheng’s face and suddenly recalled their past life. When Lian Cheng had handed him the solemn oath, his face was blurred and shadowed by backlight, rendering his expression unreadable. Yet, even then, Lian Cheng had seemed to radiate light. He had promised it was something that would help Jiang Xiaochuan find himself.

Jiang Xiaochuan couldn’t recall his own expression, but he felt a profound relaxation afterward.

Perhaps life’s journey would be much easier without secrets, he mused. Unfortunately, he was fated to harbor many secrets in this life—secrets he couldn’t share with anyone. He had been reborn, made numerous changes, and now, he awaited the conclusion of this life with a sense of satisfaction.

Maybe others would deem Jiang Xiaochuan foolish for crossing boundaries. But only by stepping into his shoes could one understand that excelling in his position required more than just competence—it demanded treading on the edge. Lian Cheng had come to realize that Jiang Xiaochuan couldn’t be entirely blamed for how things had unfolded.

Because Jiang Xiaochuan had aimed to be a competent official with achievements.

Or, at the very least, a good official.

With good intentions, he had crossed party discipline and state laws. Regardless, his intentions were noble, and the outcome positive—except for himself. As for Jiang Xiaochuan’s personal ending, it was a regrettable matter.

Although, the end hadn’t arrived yet.

But Lian Cheng had anticipated it. Despite his youth, he had handled numerous cases; Jiang Xiaochuan’s situation likely mirrored many of them.