Chapter 971: Old Fan goads Old Luo into going all out

Character sat on the presidium, his face turning livid with anger.

Over a hundred pairs of eyes below stared at him, waiting for him to speak.

Lin Dongfan's so-called 'suggestion' was like a poisoned thorn, deeply lodged in his throat, impossible to swallow or spit out.

He knew Lin Dongfan's words made sense; assigning Luo Zhiwei to a deputy post in the Political Consultative Conference both followed public opinion and preserved the normal course of personnel adjustments at the Municipal Public Security Bureau.

But he could not accept this handling plan, no matter what.

If he accepted this handling plan, it would be tantamount to admitting he was wrong, no different from acknowledging before all the cadres that his considerations were not as thorough as Lin Dongfan's.

In that case, his future words and decisions would become meaningless!

This is not just a matter of face.

More importantly, it concerns whether he can maintain his foothold in Wuzhou in the future.

Character picked up the microphone.

His voice cold as a winter wind: 'Mayor Lin's suggestion is not without merit, but I believe organizational decisions cannot be changed overnight. Comrade Luo Zhiwei's removal stands. As for the bureau chief position, after research by the Municipal Party Committee, Deputy Bureau Chief Comrade Fu Xinping shall assume the post.'

As his words fell, sighs rippled through the crowd—Old Guo had made up his mind to fight to the end!

But Meng Qinghe revealed a hint of a smug smile, glancing at Fu Xinping seated in the third row below, as if silently saying—'I've done what I promised you.'

Fu Xinping also nodded eagerly, as if expressing thanks.

Character continued speaking:

"As for the crowds downstairs, they ought to be dispersed and will be dispersed.

This is the Municipal Party Committee Office building, not a place for personal appeals. Order must not be disrupted; if necessary, we can dispatch public security officers to assist."

Having said that, Character put down the microphone and did not look at Lin Dongfan again.

Someone below murmured in discussion.

Someone shook their head.

Someone sighed.

Lin Dongfan sat on the presidium, merely smiling faintly, as if everything had been expected. Director Qi turned his head to glance at Lin Dongfan, then at Character, saying nothing.

The meeting adjourned.

The crowd surged out of the meeting room, footsteps chaotic in the hallway like receding tidewater.

Meng Qinghe, smiling, led the way with quick steps; Fu Xinping followed closely behind, his face expressionless, his excitement held inside.

Luo Zhiwei was the last to leave the meeting room.

He walked slowly; those in the hallway who saw him merely let out a silent sigh, then kept their distance, no longer greeting him warmly as before.

All this warmth and coldness of human relations, Luo Zhiwei did not care.

In his view, he had already done what he ought to in life, delivered the furniture he should have, offended those he needed to, and had nothing to regret.

When he reached the stairwell, about to go downstairs,

a voice suddenly called from behind: 'Chief Luo, don't walk off so fast—come over for a chat.'

He turned back to look.

He saw Lin Dongfan standing in the hallway, holding an unlit cigarette.

At that moment the hallway was empty, sunlight streaming through the windows onto the clean floor, like a mirror.

Luo Zhiwei turned and went back: 'Mayor Lin, what advice do you have?'

"Old Luo, today's affair has wronged you." Lin Dongfan put on a look of regret and patted Luo Zhiwei's shoulder.

Expressionless Luo Zhiwei, not feeling upbeat: 'If you want to hear thanks, you'll likely be disappointed. You and the mayor are locked in conflict; I'm the sacrifice—I can't voice gratitude.'

"That's beside the point—I don't expect your thanks." Lin Dongfan sighed: 'I kept you back also to offer a few words of comfort; don't overthink it.'

"I haven't thought much about it."

Luo Zhiwei gave a cold smile: 'It's just early retirement—not a death sentence; I won't die. Retiring is fine; the timber in the backyard will keep me occupied for years.'

Hearing this, Lin Dongfan couldn't help laughing: 'You're a bureau chief, yet you spend all day doing woodwork at home—what's going on in that head of yours?'

"Doing woodwork, I don't need to watch anyone's face."

Luo Zhiwei kept his stern expression: 'The wood is in my hands; if I want a chair, I can make a chair; if I want a cabinet, I can make a cabinet. Once finished and sent to the countryside, no one will nitpick like picking bones from an egg, nor will anyone say this part is no good and that part is no good.'

"Heh, you've got a big grudge, Old Luo."

In the course of their talk, Lin Dongfan lit the cigarette between his fingers.

He drew a slow puff.

Lin Dongfan continued: 'Regardless of whether you can accept the organization's handling of you, I sincerely hope you can calm down and view these matters rationally.'

"How am I not calm? If I weren't, I'd have stormed the stage and overturned the table by now—do you still expect to sit up there unscathed, pointing at the rivers and mountains?" Luo Zhiwei's temper remained sizable.

Lin Dongfan chuckled repeatedly: 'Don't get so worked up—I'm not criticizing you.'

"What exactly do you want to say?"

Luo Zhiwei saw through it—Lin Dongfan's long-winded talk was all prelude; the real point he wanted to make was still bottled up inside.

Lin Dongfan took another puff of smoke.

He spoke thoughtfully: 'I'd like to ask you for a favor.'

"I can't help you with anything," Luo Zhiwei said, but his eyes stayed fixed on Lin Dongfan, waiting for what came next.

Lin Dongfan spoke slowly: 'Don't rush to refuse me; I only hope you can put your remaining vigor as a retired cadre to use—look after the big picture.'

"How do you want me to look after the big picture?" Luo Zhiwei asked.

Lin Dongfan said: 'Regarding what happened today, I hope you won't post it online, go to the provincial authorities to complain, or seek out reporters.'

"That means you want me to swallow my bitterness like a mute eating coptis—keep the suffering bottled up inside?"

Luo Zhiwei glared, eyes narrowed, stared at Lin Dongfan, then turned and strode off—as if uttering another word would trample his own dignity.

He did not realize:

Just as he turned and left, carrying this belly-full of anger, Lin Dongfan nevertheless revealed a faint smile, like a fisherman casting his rod and easily catching an eighty-jin big blue fish.

The smile hung on his face, excitement pressed deep in his heart.

Soon after.

Qi Ting walked over, laughing heartily: "Mayor Lin, it's still you. Your chess game can be said to be fortifying at every step; every piece is under your control."

"What pieces?" Lin Dongfan replied, astonished.

Qi Ting startled, then quickly reacted, putting on an embarrassed smile: "Look at my mouth, running off at the mouth. Just treat it as me letting out a fart; don't take it to heart."

Then Lin Dongfan also laughed: "Haha, your fart, Qi Ting, isn't something just anyone can sniff."

"Don't tease me; compared to you, I'm nothing." Qi Ting chuckled, then asked: "Are you sure Luo Zhiwei will stir things up? Someone like him, a layabout, has long lost any fighting spirit."

"Rest assured, he can't swallow this anger."

Lin Dongfan muttered: "If I don't call him out on two points, he might really just lie flat and accept his fate. But I just pointed out two things to him, and the outcome is different. Even if it's to prove he's a tough nut who won't give me, Lin Dongfan, face, he'll still stir things up. Just wait and see; the good show is still to come."