Chapter 908: A Custom Gift for the Old Master

When Huang Jinrong was put in the police car, he glanced back at Wuzhou's night scenery.

He didn't know if he could ever return.

The Beishan County Detention Center, deep in the mountains over a hundred li away. It's said the place is so remote there's no cell signal, surrounded by mountains, with nowhere to run.

That bastard Zheng Congwen wanted him to kill his own brother.

That scheming big shot Lin Dongfan casually sent him to Beishan with just a light remark.

Neither side is good; he, a tiny ant caught between them, can only leave things to fate.

The police car drove out of the city.

It got onto the expressway.

Outside the window, lights grew sparse, until only darkness remained.

Huang Jinrong leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.

Zheng Congwen's words kept replaying in his mind: "Your brother should disappear from this world."

He opened his eyes and looked out the window.

The night was thick like unmixable ink; he didn't know how many days his older brother had left, nor how many days he himself had left—the fate of lowly ants and worms has never been in their own hands.

At the same time.

Xu Jialiang sat in his office, staring blankly at the empty transfer application on his desk.

Zheng Congwen gave him two options: either get lost to a township police station, or get lost from the public security system.

He chose the former.

Among the many townships, he randomly picked the most remote one—Qingshan Town. Going there basically meant saying goodbye to Wuzhou's power center for life.

He gave a bitter smile.

After over a decade as a criminal investigator, rising from ordinary officer to his current post, he was only half a step away from the deputy commander of the Criminal Investigation Detachment.

He had thought he could steadily step up that half step.

He never expected that a meaningless compliment would instantly overturn his life plan, plunging him from mid‑mountain into an abyss.

"Where did I go wrong?"

Xu Jialiang thought for Along, long time, still couldn't figure it out, and finally, helplessly, picked up his pen and signed his name on the application.

Each stroke felt like putting a period on his over‑decade career as a criminal investigator.

The news spread quickly.

The next morning, the whole City Bureau was buzzing.

"Did you hear? Huang Jinrong was taken to Beishan—it was the Mayor's order."

"Xu Jialiang's also been transferred to Qingshan Town; I doubt he'll ever come back."

"Political Commissar Zheng is really angry this time."

"What good does being angry do? One word from Mayor Lin and Huang Jinrong still goes to Beishan—can Political Commissar Zheng stop it?"

"Keep it down, don't talk nonsense."

…

Some gloated over others' misfortune, some felt sympathy like a rabbit seeing a fox die, and some just watched coldly.

That's the bureaucracy.

When you're glorious, everyone flatter you.

When you're down on your luck, there's not even anyone to speak up for you.

When Gao Yicheng heard the news, he was sipping tea at home. He set down his cup and smiled—Mayor Lin's move of borrowing a knife to kill was brilliant.

Zheng Congwen went to great lengths to arrest Huang Jinrong, but the man was sent to Beishan, completely out of his control.

Xu Jialiang, that wishy‑washy fence‑sitter, got kicked by Zheng Congwen into the countryside, so he no longer has to worry about picking a side.

Mayor Lin's slick maneuver could be called killing two birds with one stone.

No!

It's three birds with one stone.

And he even gave Zheng Congwen a resounding slap on the cheek.

Gao Yicheng lifted his teacup, took a slow sip, and praised: "No wonder he's fit to be mayor—his scheming is polished to perfection; it looks like I might get my job back…"

…-

Municipal Party Committee compound, Lin Dongfan's home.

Sunlight streamed through the window onto the dining table, warm and cozy.

Chu Lingxi was busy in the kitchen, the smell of frying eggs filling the whole house. Shen Junlan sat on the sofa, flipping through a magazine, occasionally glancing toward the kitchen.

"Lingxi, use less oil—Dongfan's blood lipids are a bit high."

"Mom, how do you know his blood lipids are high?"

Chu Lingxi poked her head out of the kitchen.

Shen Junlan gave her a look: "You don't even know whether your husband's blood lipids are high—what's on your mind all day?"

"He never told me."

Chu Lingxi pursed her lips, putting on an innocent look.

Soon after.

Lin Dongfan came out of the bedroom, his hair still damp—evidently he'd just showered.

"Mom, good morning."

"What 'good morning'? It's almost eight—anything going on at work today?"

Shen Junlan looked at him, her eyes full of smiles.

Lin Dongfan sat down opposite her: "Today is the weekend, a day off."

"Oh right, I forgot." Shen Junlan said with a smiling sigh: "It seems I'm really getting old; staying home every day without work, I've lost the concept of weekends."

"Breakfast is ready."

Chu Lingxi brought out the breakfast and placed each item on the table.

There were fried eggs, milk, bread, and a small dish of pickled vegetables brought by Shen Junlan. The once clueless sweetie who couldn't tell scallions from garlic now knows how to make breakfast, thanks to experience worn into her by life.

The three of them sat around the table, having not gathered like this in Along time.

After Lao Chu was transferred away from Wuzhou, he got promoted and his work became busier. And Shen Junlan, who follows her husband, usually stays by Lao Chu's side, rarely having time to return to Wuzhou.

Shen Junlan picked up some pickles with her chopsticks and put them in Lin Dongfan's bowl: "Try it; I learned from online videos and made it myself."

"Mm."

Lin Dongfan really hadn't expected that a former university professor, now the wife of a ministerial-level official, would after retirement start pickling vegetables.

He casually tasted it, and the flavor was actually not bad.

Lin Dongfan laughed: "Mom, your skill is patent-worthy; it's tastier than what's sold outside."

"You just know how to coax me; if you think it's good, eat more."

The mother-in-law looking at her son-in-law finds him ever more pleasing! Shen Junlan added another bit of pickles to Lin Dongfan's bowl, which left Chu Lingxi, sitting nearby, feeling out of favor.

Chu Lingxi said: "Mom, you're playing favorites, and it's too obvious. I'm your own daughter—why don't you give me some?"

"What are your hands for? Pick it up yourself."

On this matter, Shen Junlan is serious, not joking.

Since learning that the Lin family patriarch, Lin Mu Yuan, who had walked the ten-thousand-li Long March, Shen Junlan has constantly worried about the future of her own silly daughter.

She fears that one day her daughter will do something stupid, offend her in-laws, and be kicked out.

Therefore…

Over the years, she hasn't dared to indulge Chu Lingxi anymore; every time they meet she lectures her, teaching how to be a qualified granddaughter-in-law.

Fortunately, the Lin family treats this silly girl quite well.

Although this silly girl remains as clueless as ever, the Lin family, from top to bottom, has always doted on her extra, even regarding her as a Lin family merit—for giving the Lin family a son and a daughter.

Shen Junlan asked Lin Dongfan: "The old gentleman is 107 this year; my husband and I plan to give him a birthday gift. Dongfan, help us think of an idea—what do you think would be good?"

"Mom, is that really necessary?" Lin Dongfan laughed: "We're all family; the old grandfather won't care about such things."

Shen Junlan said: "The old gentleman may not care, but we cannot fail to show our respect."

"If you insist on showing something, then give him a horsewhip." Lin Dongfan laughed.

Shen Junlan stared in surprise: "Give a horsewhip?"

In this age when cars fill the streets, such an ancient object as a birthday gift—Shen Junlan really can't think of any special meaning it might have.

Lin Dongfan laughed:

"After retirement, the old gentleman has always kept the horsewhip he used back then at his side; it's a testament to his charging on horseback and slaying enemies on the battlefield.

When he's idle, he also likes to use the horsewhip to lash my paternal aunt.

Then one day.

That horsewhip suddenly went missing; I suspect my paternal aunt threw it away as trash. Objectively speaking, my paternal aunt is not a good person.

Now the old gentleman is 107 years old.

If you give him a horsewhip, it's tantamount to awakening his war spirit. Then his heart will stir, and he'll be full of vigor right there—no different from taking a potent longevity pill.

Hearing Lin Dongfan say that, Shen Junlan also laughed: "All right, then I'll go order a horsewhip."

Chu Lingxi, who had been burying her head in eating, suddenly lifted her head, glanced at her mother and then at her husband, and asked with a puzzled look: "Do you have a grudge against my paternal aunt?"

"With all this delicious food, you still can't shut up." Shen Junlan gave her a sideways glance: "If you can't speak properly, just keep your mouth shut—less talk, more action."