At the beginning of the century, the Zhengzhou Municipal Government began a policy of setting aside a number of deputy-level positions for holders of Ph.D.s. Many other cities followed its example, and later, provincial governments began to adopt the same practice, even removing graduation-year requirements and offering higher starting positions. It was an excellent way to demonstrate the recruiters’ magnanimity and vision to the world, but in reality, the attractive concept amounted to little more than political record engineering. The recruiters were farsighted indeed—they knew perfectly well that these book-smart, well-educated young people lacked any sort of political experience. When they entered the unfamiliar and vicious political sphere, they found themselves swallowed whole in labyrinthine bureaucracy, unable to gain any foothold. The whole business was no big loss in job vacancies, while substantially padding the recruiters’ political résumés.

An opportunity like this led Song Cheng, already a law professor at the time, to leave his peaceful campus study for the world of politics. His peers who chose the same road didn’t last a year before they left in utter despair, beaten men and women, their only achievement being the destruction of their dreams. But Song Cheng was an exception. He not only stayed in politics, but did exceptionally well.

The credit belonged to two people. One was his college classmate Lu Wenming. In their last year as undergraduates, he’d placed in the civil service even as Song Cheng tested into grad school. With his advantageous family background and his own dedicated effort, ten years later he’d become the youngest provincial secretary of discipline inspection in the nation, head of the organization in charge of maintaining discipline within the provincial-level Party. He was the one who’d advised Song Cheng to give up his books for governance.

When the simple scholar first began, Lu didn’t lead him by the hand so much as he toddled him along by the feet, hand-placing Song’s every step as he taught him how to walk. He’d steered Song Cheng around traps and treachery that the latter could never have spotted himself, allowing him to progress up the road that had led to today. The other person he should thank was the Senior Official … on that thought, Song Cheng’s heart gave a spasm.

“You have to admit, you chose this for yourself. You can’t say they didn’t give you a way out.”

Song Cheng nodded. Yes, they’d given him a way out, a boulevard with his name in lights at that.

Bai Bing continued, “The Senior Official met with you a few months ago. I’m sure you remember it well. It was in a villa out in the exurbs, by the Yang River. The Senior Official doesn’t normally see outsiders there.