Chapter 3: 002 This Is a Trap

Tenglong Industry publicly claimed that, without the company’s knowledge, 20 million yuan from a dedicated account was transferred by the Nanxin Branch of Dongfang Bank into a margin deposit account for Zhilian Technology, a company in Zhejiang Province with no connection or business dealings with Tenglong Industry, for the purpose of accepting bills of exchange.

This incident caused a huge uproar in Nanxin and became widely known throughout Jinghai City’s banking system, yet the outcome was unexpected.

Fang Qingye saw that most of the data had been entered and didn’t rush—he took a break, picked up the teacup on the desk, took a sip, and stood by the window gazing at the scenery outside.

It was spring now, the sunlight bright and warm; the peach tree in the bank courtyard had bloomed, its blossoms delicate and vibrant.

At that moment, Fang Qingye suddenly noticed two people in bank uniforms—a man and a woman—coming downstairs and entering the courtyard, as if to greet a guest.

The man was around forty, dressed in a crisp suit; the woman was younger, under thirty, slender, her hair pinned into a bun at the back, looking efficient, and wearing the bank’s gray-black OL suit, giving off a sense of uniform allure.

Xia He, Zhao Wenjun!

Two deputy branch managers of Nanxin Branch.

Branch Manager Zhang had been on medical leave for over a year due to health reasons, and Xia He was currently in charge.

With the branch’s top two leaders both appearing, could it be that someone important was arriving?

Indeed, a black Audi slowly drove into the courtyard, followed by a black Passat.

As soon as the Audi stopped, Xia He hurried over to open the door; a man around fifty stepped out and shook hands with the two waiting officials.

The city investigation team had truly arrived!

That man—wasn’t he Liu Baosheng, the deputy branch manager in charge of discipline inspection at the city branch?

Fang Qingye had a vague memory of him.

This man was extremely well-known in Jinghai City’s banking system—upright and incorruptible, he had previously sent two branch managers to prison; he was also very dark-skinned, earning him the nickname “Liu Bao Gong.”

It seemed the city branch’s investigation team had truly come—Nanxin Branch would be in for a turbulent time.

But this matter has nothing to do with us—we’ll just stay as bystanders for now.

Fang Qingye lifted his teacup and sipped his tea slowly.

At noon, when work ended for lunch, Fang Qingye naturally didn’t go home—the cafeteria’s food was quite plentiful: fried fish, braised taro with flat beans, a mixed vegetable dish, jellyfish salad, and a soup of broad beans with river shrimp.

Fang Qingye filled his plate and turned to find a seat; Zhang Rong waved him over, so he sat down at the table.

“Hey, you know? Chen Meimei was assigned to the city investigation team as a liaison!” Zhang Rong whispered.

“Liaison? That’s just running errands and doing menial tasks for others,” Fang Qingye laughed.

“Even running errands is good—it lets you meet city branch leaders and get familiar with them. Chen Meimei’s lucky!” Zhang Rong’s tone carried a hint of envy mixed with jealousy.

Fang Qingye glanced at him—he remembered this kid was diligent, capable, and fond of scheming, a thoroughly pragmatic man.

So he said while eating: “Why not go tell Deputy Manager Xia? Ask to be switched in—you’re capable enough. Didn’t she even praise you at the all-staff meeting?”

“No way, I won’t touch that bad luck,” Zhang Rong quickly waved his hand.

“You don’t know—Deputy Manager Xia was in a terrible mood today. This morning, Liu Li from our office handed her a document with a typo. She spotted it immediately and scolded her harshly. Liu Li came back crying.”

Fang Qingye heard this and sighed inwardly.

As a manager, Xia He still lacked the necessary poise.

True leaders never let their emotions show—you can never read their thoughts from their expressions.

But it was understandable—Xia He was still young.

She graduated with a master’s in finance from Shencai, worked one year at the provincial branch, then was directly transferred to Nanxin Branch as deputy manager and put in charge.

Everything had gone smoothly until this critical moment before promotion—no wonder her composure was shaken.

And this was a trap—someone deliberately set it for her!

Break the trap, overcome the crisis, and she ascends successfully.

Fail to break it, lose the chance to become branch manager, and be forced to leave Nanxin.

Historically, her outcome was the latter.

Clearly, if nothing changes, it will happen again.

But it’s a pity.

Fang Qingye remembered that during his time at Nanxin, Xia He had treated him well.

After all, they were both Shencai graduates—she was his senior.

Thinking of this, Fang Qingye couldn’t help but shake his head.

“Hey, Fang Qingye, why are you shaking your head?” Zhang Rong asked curiously.

“Nothing. Just eat. None of this concerns us—don’t waste your thoughts on it,” Fang Qingye replied, focusing on his food.

Zhang Rong, however, was unimpressed.

Fang Qingye was far too calm about it all.

After lunch, Fang Qingye didn’t go home—he wandered the streets for a while, then returned to the office to resume work in the afternoon.

It was just routine work, nothing difficult—take it slow.

The bank closed at five. He gathered his documents, went downstairs, fetched his scooter from the parking shed, hummed a tune, and rode out the gate, drifting lazily toward home, all the office nonsense already forgotten behind him.

At that moment, a CD shop by the roadside played a song by Phoenix Legend.

Beneath the endless green hills, flowers bloom.

What rhythm is the most swinging?

What song brings the greatest joy?

“The Most Stunning Ethnic Style”

He used to think this song was tacky, but now it felt strangely familiar—he couldn’t help humming along.

Walking and singing all the way is the most free.

When we sing, we sing with all our heart...

As the scooter approached a crosswalk, the yellow light turned red—and it sped through.

Passing a place called Shijiaba Market, people came and went in large numbers; vendors lined both sides of the street, selling goods illegally, and with them came their sworn enemies—the urban management officers in blue-black uniforms with wide-brimmed hats.

There, Fang Qingye saw two uniformed officers arguing with an old man selling strawberries.

The old man looked simple and honest—not a seasoned street vendor—and the strawberries were probably grown at home.

Without a fixed stall, he was simply occupying the road—urban management shouted to drive him away.

This happened daily in small towns; no one cared—unless there was physical conflict, then a crowd would gather immediately, and the incident would soon appear online.

The headline would usually be: “Urban management beat someone up!”

But today, nothing like that happened—the atmosphere remained relatively calm.

Fang Qingye slowed his scooter to leave, but then spotted the broad-shouldered figure of a young urban management officer—and smiled.

Buddy.