Chapter 10 – Room 901

The rest of the journey turned out to be far longer than twenty minutes.

In recent years, Gu Yao had followed Tang County’s economic development almost obsessively. In response to Zhou Zhengliang’s questions, she could practically cite the public data down to the exact figures listed in official bulletins.

Her love for her hometown wasn’t just lip service.

Xu Mo could tell—this young comrade genuinely hoped to see Tang County thrive.

Once they passed the toll station, the car fell into silence again.

After such a long and intense conversation with the top leader, Gu Yao felt an unexpected sense of relief. It seemed this situation hadn’t turned out nearly as badly as she had feared.

In fact, she’d gained a deeper understanding of Secretary Zhou—of what kind of person he truly was.

To what extent, exactly? Gu Yao couldn’t say.

Maybe… more than 30%?

When this girl spaced out, her eyes would often fixate on a certain point, wide and focused, not blinking at all.

It reminded Zhou Zhengliang of a Ragdoll cat his nephew once fostered at his Yufeng residence.

Mild in temperament, highly adaptable.

But not fit for the wild.

Because it was too trusting, lacking any sense of self-preservation. Easily tricked, easily hurt.

Exceptionally bright in her work, but in other areas—naïve like a baby bird.

What those “other areas” referred to, only Zhou Zhengliang himself knew.

The inspection team’s accommodations were set at the Junyi Hotel, less than a kilometer from the county office building. For Gu Yao, it would only take fifteen minutes to drive home.

Even so, she didn’t ask for special treatment. Upon arrival, she obediently wheeled her suitcase into the lobby and assisted the county reception staff with checking in the leaders and other officials.

Xu Mo took note of her initiative and praised her:
“You’re doing a fine job as the host.”

Just then, the county party secretary walking alongside Zhou Zhengliang turned around, surprised by Xu Mo’s comment and glanced toward the so-called “host.”

“Xiao Gu is from Tang County?” he asked.

Gu Yao nodded and smiled.

While they chatted, County Magistrate Song, who stood among the group, couldn’t help glancing at the young woman too. The more he looked, the more familiar she seemed.

At the root of it, Gu Yao simply couldn’t bear to risk Tang County’s future.

Nor could she be sure whether this powerful Secretary Zhou was truly as impartial and principled as the rumors claimed.

Everyone knew that one person’s misstep could easily doom an entire initiative.

To Zhou Zhengliang, Gu Yao’s “roundabout rescue plan” seemed less like a strategy—and more like a test.

A test of his stance on Tang County.

A test of the five-year economic blueprint, the financial allocations, the special approval policies.

After a brief silence, she finally spoke from the back seat:

“When I applied to Qionghai, my thinking was very simple.”

When she mentioned her original intention, Gu Yao’s tone turned especially earnest:
“A river that flows endlessly will always have fish downstream, as long as the source is clear. If I become someone useful in the future—with rank and reach—then bringing prosperity to my hometown should be easy.”

A sense of moral clarity, sharp and honest.

At that, Zhou Zhengliang’s expression softened, his lips even curving ever so slightly.

“So, how do you feel now?” he asked again.

Now?

One year into working within the system, Gu Yao felt like she was one step away from becoming a salted fish.

A fish lying flat, going with the flow.

Of course, that wasn’t something she could say out loud.

So she dodged and replied tactfully:
“I still lack experience and haven’t grasped the true essence. If Secretary Zhou is willing to offer some guidance, I’d definitely benefit a great deal.”

The first half was playful, the second half clearly tinged with flattery.

“What kind of guidance do you need from me?” Zhou Zhengliang changed tack.

The young woman immediately sat up straight and answered crisply:
“How to become a qualified public servant in one’s position.”

The serious tone caught Xu Mo off guard—he gave her a quick sideways glance.

Making veiled references in front of the big boss while pretending not to know what’s going on? Bold move.

Gu Yao felt wrongly accused.

She wasn’t pretending—she truly was confused.

If she were actually clever, she wouldn’t have nearly triggered a scandal during that system demonstration by clicking the wrong thing.

Fortunately, luck had been on her side—just once.

But what if, that day at the Development and Reform Commission, the one doing the inspection hadn’t been Zhou Zhengliang?

Gu Yao didn’t even want to think about the consequences.

As she sat in silence, several officials began returning to the vehicle. The official car was about to set off again.

From the seat behind her—still no response.

Then Zhou Zhengliang raised his wrist to check the time and said,
“Switch seats with Xu Mo.”

Huh?

Why switch seats?

Caught off guard, she didn’t react.

Xu Mo stood up and smiled, pulling her out of her daze. He reminded her:
“Twenty minutes.”

The implication was clear: cherish this opportunity.

Only then did Gu Yao snap out of it, stunned.

Secretary Zhou, he…

It felt like she’d seen it somewhere before.

Of course, the current business took priority—everything else would have to wait.

The group split into two.

The leaders took the elevator straight to the banquet floor, while Gu Yao and several male colleagues were tasked with delivering the luggage to the various rooms.

When she swiped the card to enter, the luxurious interior left her momentarily stunned.

She took two steps back, just about to double-check the room number with a colleague from the county committee, when a voice nearby corrected her:
“You grabbed the wrong card—Room 901 is Secretary Zhou’s.”

Gu Yao: …

Thank goodness she reacted in time.

As they walked down the hallway, she casually asked the colleague beside her,
“In my memory, the executive suites at Junyi Hotel weren’t this high-end. Did they get upgraded recently?”

At that, her colleague immediately realized this “local” wouldn’t be easily fooled.

“Well, since we’re fellow townsfolk, let’s keep it between us. No need to go spreading it around,” he said with a half-joking smile as they walked.

Clearly, there was a story behind it.

“Room 901 at Junyi is usually left vacant, never open to guests. It’s cleaned regularly by assigned staff. You probably know what that means.”

He left it at that.

The implication was obvious.

Tracing the origin of this arrangement wasn’t difficult either.

She recalled her father, Old Gu, once mentioning that about five years ago, a municipal leader came to the county for an inspection and stayed in one of Junyi’s executive suites.

Back then, the economy was tight, and the room’s amenities couldn’t compare to those in top-tier cities.

As a result, the leader left with a cold expression—and the county’s proposed plan for real-economy reforms was never heard of again.

A harsh lesson learned.

A child who isn’t favored will always try harder to win their parents’ attention and care.

But in this world, a parent’s love ought to be pure and unconditional.

As for this kind of distorted “education,” Gu Yao had no way to pass judgment.

In a place like this, the voice of someone at the grassroots level weighed about as much as a feather—what could it really change?