Beijing City.

Committee for Reassignment (the “Cutting Committee”).

“Deputy Director Tan, we’ve received a report letter.”

Just as Tan Shuwei was lifting his bicycle through the door, a few young men with excited expressions stopped him, waving a letter in their hands.

Tan Shuwei didn’t really want to look at it. He never got involved in these matters—his job was purely logistics at the committee.

“Deputy Director Tan, we’ve got work again.”

“Yeah, we’ve got another case!”

“That’s right. Can you believe the one reported this time is a professor from Peking University?”

“A professor, huh? Honestly, I’ve lost all respect for them. The last person we reassigned was also from Peking University. His whole family got sent down not too long ago.”

“Exactly. Who knows what these people are thinking. Educating the next generation, really?”

“Right, and even among themselves they look down on each other. It’s laughable.”

“The one we reassigned a few days ago had such good conditions, must’ve offended someone to get reported.”

“Scholars always belittle one another. Their hearts aren’t any broader. Haven’t we seen plenty of those reassignments come through our hands?”

“Exactly. I really despise the people who write these reports.”

…

Just like before, Tan Shuwei was about to suggest they pass it to someone else when their chatter suddenly caught his attention.

Something stirred in his heart, and he changed his mind.

“Let me see it.”

For the first time, he reached out to these eager young people, wanting to read the letter.

No, more precisely—he wanted to see the name of the person being reported.

He didn’t know why, but he had a hunch. Or perhaps, he was a bit excited—wanting to confirm the sudden thought that had sprung up in his mind.

“Director Tan, take a look! When should we leave? Should we head out right now?!”

The young man holding the letter thought Tan Shuwei was taking charge of the case and excitedly handed him the report.

Tan Shuwei smiled at him and took the letter casually while saying pleasantly:

“I’ve always been in charge of logistics and administration. This kind of case should go to Director Lin or Deputy Director An. They have more experience.”

He never touched this kind of dirty business—he only ever rejected it. Why would he volunteer?

His eyes landed on the name and workplace in the report letter.

Liu Mingliang?!

A professor at Peking University?!

Interesting!

He still remembered that Su Huaiyuan was also a professor at Peking University, possibly in the same department as this Liu Mingliang?

He’d have to check that later.

“Take this to Director Lin or Deputy Director An. If you need me to prepare anything, come back to me.”

Tan Shuwei handed the letter back to the young man, then smiled and went to park his bicycle in the shed.

The bicycle shed at the committee was packed. Everyone working there had their own bike—a sign of relative affluence.

“Deputy Director Tan, we’re scared to go to Director Lin…”

The young man and the others shivered at the mention of Director Lin’s name. They were all instinctively afraid.

Director Lin had always been imposing and unapproachable.

Lately, he’d changed even more—gloomy and ominous, like someone had desecrated his ancestors’ grave. It was downright frightening.

Just the day before, Director Lin had been seriously ill and hospitalized. Though he was discharged yesterday afternoon and returned to work briefly, he looked like he’d lost a significant amount of weight.

“You can go to Deputy Director An instead,”

Tan Shuwei suggested after some thought.

Anyway, he had no interest in getting involved and had no intention of going out.

But just as he finished speaking, Lin Kesheng’s grim voice rang out behind them.

“What do you need with Deputy Director An?”

Not only was Tan Shuwei startled, but even the young men were shaken.

They all exchanged looks, not knowing what to do. The worst part was not knowing whether Director Lin had misunderstood.

“Director… Lin…”

“We received a report letter and were talking to Deputy Director Tan. He said we should report it to you or Deputy Director An.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Director Lin, we were planning to report it to you anyway…”

The young people rushed to explain, clearly intimidated. Director Lin was not as approachable as Tan Shuwei.

“Director, they brought the letter to me just now. I told them to report to you or Deputy Director An, and here you are.”

Tan Shuwei didn’t know what had set Lin Kesheng off lately—he’d been volatile, his gaze strange and unsettling.

It was better not to provoke him.

“Oh, I see. Where’s the letter?”

Seeing everyone so cautious made Lin Kesheng feel much better.

He coldly reached out for the letter.

The young man quickly handed it over respectfully.

“Peking University again? Always Peking University.”

Lin Kesheng quickly skimmed the report and let out a short, scornful laugh.

“Liu Mingliang?! Let’s go to Peking University and meet this Professor Liu.”