Chapter Two: The Death of the Section Chief

Page 1/3

Zhang Maolin, slumped asleep on the sofa, was abruptly awakened by the unusually urgent ringing of the telephone. Reflexively, he hunched his back and struggled to sit up, immediately feeling every muscle and bone in his body weaken unbearably. A throbbing haze intensified at the back of his head, leaving him stiff and motionless, afraid to move further.

He tried to recall the exact sequence of events from returning from the Songhe Reservoir until collapsing on the sofa. Yet, the moment the thought flickered, his mind became a muddled mess.

The early winter afternoon sunlight slanted sharply across the desk, harsh and glaring despite offering little warmth. Zhang squinted against the reflected light, unable to discern the incoming number, and lazily picked up the receiver.

“Hello, who’s this?” he yawned involuntarily.

“Old Zhang, come to my office immediately, quickly!”

Zhang recognized the deep, commanding voice as that of Bank President Wang Weixin. Before he could utter a response, the line was abruptly cut off.

“Old Zhang? Quickly? Quick!” Zhang murmured to himself, bewildered.

Slowly, Zhang rose from the sofa. His mind cleared slightly, but his legs still felt numb and swollen. Instinctively, he steadied himself by gripping the wooden coat rack and removed his sports jacket.

He did not rush out but paced several slow circles around the room. He distinctly sensed that Wang’s tone on the phone was unusual—an unprecedented mix of tension, anxiety, and a faint trace of fear.

Puzzled, Zhang mulled over the hidden meaning behind Wang’s terse words.

“Immediately? Is it an urgent summons or an order from the top? What could have provoked Wang, usually so measured and composed, to sound so agitated?”

Despite his mental probing, Zhang could not pinpoint the exact cause. The message was brief and brusque, with no further explanation. This left him unsettled.

Zhang acknowledged that since Wang Weixin was dispatched from the provincial bank’s personnel department to lead the Songyang City branch six years ago, he often issued orders to others, even his team members. Yet, he always showed Zhang Maolin great respect, both publicly and privately. Wang often said formally, “Secretary Maolin is our branch’s expert in inspection and correction, especially among leadership cadres, including myself. Any unit or department that doesn’t respect the disciplinary secretary is bound to encounter trouble, sometimes severe.”

Zhang had long sensed Wang’s personal regard for him.

However, Wang had never spoken with such a tone as today.

The bank president’s office occupied the entire third floor of the building.

The floor was divided into three independent units: Wang’s daily office in the center, a spacious suite with a single bed, TV, tea set, small refrigerator, aquarium, and a simple restroom. On either side of the main door were small meeting rooms for executive members and mid-level managers.

...

Zhang slowly pushed open the door.

Inside the unusually silent room, Vice Presidents Yin Sen and Bian Zecheng, along with Union Chair Liu Wanyi, stood stiffly with somber faces like wax figures.

Unlike his usual smiling, upright demeanor, Wang Weixin stood with legs slightly apart and arms crossed over his chest, his face pale and etched with confusion and terror—an expression Zhang had never seen before.

His heart sank deeply as he immediately surmised that some terrible, sudden incident had shocked the unprepared Wang.

“Old Zhang! Do you know? Something’s happened—Wen Lu is in trouble!”

Wang hurried forward, gripping Zhang’s hand tightly, his lips quivering.

Zhang noticed Wang’s palm was cold and clammy.

“What? Wen Lu? What could have happened to him?” Zhang asked.

“He’s... gone!” Wang whispered.

“Ah?! President Wang, you mean young Wen—” Zhang was stunned, dropping Wang’s hand and steadying his unsteady shoulder.

Wang avoided Zhang’s anxious gaze and turned toward the window.

“There was a rear-end collision on the highway. The front vehicle was a heavy truck. Wen Lu was dead at the scene.”

Vice President Bian Zecheng leaned in and whispered to Zhang.

“Ah?! This, this...” Zhang’s head suddenly felt like it was swelling, his ears roaring. His hands fidgeted uncontrollably.

“No matter how unwilling or incredulous we are, the fact has occurred. What worries me most is—” Wang turned, his gaze wild and distracted as he scanned the room. “This time, Section Chief Wen Lu was traveling with Finance Director Wang from Kanghong Group on a business trip to the provincial bank, tasked with delivering documents for a six-million-yuan bank acceptance bill. But this morning, after a call with the provincial bank’s credit department, I learned Wen Lu never actually went there! Before I could figure out why, this tragedy happened. The accident site was on the highway from the provincial capital to the development zone.”

“Well, then—” Zhang hesitated, noticing the vacant expressions on everyone as they watched Wang anxiously scratch his head.

Wang continued, “I’ve assigned Director Kan from the office to lead a team to handle the aftermath; others will arrive later. Our immediate priority is to ensure total consistency in our messaging on two points—note, absolute unanimity!”

“President, please slow down, let me take notes.” Vice President Bian Zecheng pulled out a small leather-bound notebook.

Wang lit a cigarette and went on.

“First, we must decide how the branch leadership will notify and receive Wen Lu’s family; second, how to report this incident to the provincial bank. Both must be resolved today. I suspect—and I can affirm—that the provincial leaders have likely already heard about this major traffic accident within our bank system in the provincial capital. They may even be waiting with open doors for our report. So we cannot be passive! Everyone knows Wen Lu is well-known across the provincial banking system; most provincial bank presidents know him by name, and his familiarity among department heads is even greater.”

Vice President Yin Sen shook his head slowly, sighed, and said:

“Alas! Such a promising young cadre gone so tragically early! We must all learn from this pain. I heard the vehicle involved wasn’t the ‘Volga’ gas car assigned by our city branch but a Toyota from Kanghong Group, and that there was apparently a nightclub hostess in the car.”

“What? A hostess?! A woman in a car going on official business? This is a matter of life and death—we should not base our analysis on hearsay or assumptions! Our opinions will directly affect how over two thousand employees at the Songyang branch perceive this incident—especially at this critical moment.” Zhang’s tone sharpened, clearly irritated by Yin’s cavalier attitude.

To summarize in Zhang’s own words, he and Yin had a longstanding mutual dislike, a bitter rivalry stemming from Yin’s arrogant airs and contradictory attitudes since he arrived at the Songyang branch five years ago.

As soon as their exchange ended, the room fell into an awkward silence.

Vice President Bian Zecheng was the first to break it, lowering his arm and softly touching Zhang’s hand.

“I agree. Until the traffic police and other authorities issue an official conclusion, it’s best not to spread rumors. Otherwise, it will cause irreparable damage to Wen Lu’s family and to our Songyang Xing Commercial Bank. Bad news travels fast, and soon the public will make this headline news.”

“Pointless arguments solve nothing. Everyone should be clear on the priorities.” Wang scanned the room and said:

Page 2/3

“Our immediate task is to move in unison with one voice. I will not tolerate even the slightest discord. At least show me some respect! Here’s what I propose—”

Wang’s expression darkened as he looked seriously at Zhang.

“Maolin, among our leadership team, only you are a native of Songyang. So, as the eldest brother, you’ll have to put in more effort. I mean we must do our utmost to comfort Wen Lu’s family, respond kindly to any request, and avoid any direct conflict. Until the provincial bank clarifies its stance, all issues must be softened. Once the facts are clear, we will proceed according to regulations and instructions.”

“Currently, the most important thing is to prevent and control any extreme behavior driven by the family’s emotions. After all, Wen Lu met his fate on a business trip. Regardless of other factors, our branch leadership must maintain the right attitude. We cannot spread baseless rumors or speculate wildly. This is not only a basic principle but a rigid discipline for us party committee members.”

Wang fixed his gaze on Vice President Yin Sen, standing near the corner.

Zhang immediately spoke up.

“President Wang, I understand your point. But for an event this serious, we should hold a party committee meeting, even a brief one, to facilitate communication with Wen Lu’s family and have documented basis for negotiations.”

“Yes, yes, Secretary Maolin, you’re always thoughtful! Let’s do as you say.” Wang seemed to suddenly realize something and turned to Bian Zecheng.

“Zechen, please draft a simple document summarizing our views today and have the office issue it. Don’t send it to the grassroots yet, just ensure all leadership members have a copy.”

“I must leave for the accident site immediately...” Wang said, lightly patting Bian’s shoulder to show warmth and trust.

This shoulder pat was Wang’s habitual, signature gesture of goodwill—something Zhang had once gently admonished him about.

One Chinese New Year, during a group visit to the city government, Wang shook hands with the mayor and patted his shoulder. On the return trip, Zhang tactfully reminded him that in Songyang’s social etiquette, only elders pat juniors or superiors pat subordinates on the shoulder. Wang, a department-level official, patting a bureau-level mayor’s shoulder was an inversion of protocol. He joked the mayor looked as if he had just caught Wang sleeping with his sister.

Wang was embarrassed, rolling his eyes and muttering, “Damn, you Songyang folks sure have a lot of weird customs!”

Only Zhang dared joke with Wang this way in the Xing Commercial Bank.

...

Just as Wang was about to exit, he suddenly turned back and whispered:

“Let’s keep Wen Lu’s matter from excessive publicity—do our best to limit who knows. After all, this is a family disgrace!”

He then said to Zhang,

“Maolin, sorry to trouble you. Handling such matters requires extreme caution. Remember, this is not just your duty as disciplinary secretary but the face of our Songyang branch party committee!”

Wang said this and lightly patted Zhang’s shoulder again.

“All right, I’ll do my best. Wen Lu’s parents live in a rural town outside the city; I’ll arrange transport tomorrow. His father-in-law, Tao Shouli, is a retired senior cadre of our branch—I believe they can face this properly. But the death of a child in old age—losing a black-haired to white-haired—”

Zhang’s voice choked slightly.

...

Near eleven at night, Zhang finally received a call from Tao Kan in the provincial capital:

“Uncle! I’m at the provincial funeral parlor!” Tao’s voice was choked with tears.

“Son, now’s not the time to cry! Can you talk now?” Zhang asked.

“Yes, only family here in the mourning hall. President Wang came this afternoon, now back at the provincial bank. Vice Presidents Yin and Bian came before dinner, and now they’re out with the others for a late meal.” Tao detailed.

“Oh, have they determined the exact cause of the accident?”

“No. The vehicle wasn’t from our city branch but the Toyota of the Kanghong Group’s provincial office chief.”

“Which party is more at fault?”

“The car Wen Lu was in rear-ended a heavy truck moving normally.”

“Casualties?”

“Only my brother-in-law died. The two in the back seats are hospitalized but reportedly stable.”

“And the driver? Was he injured?”

“The driver? That was my brother-in-law.”

“What? Tao Kan, you mean Wen Lu drove himself? You must be mistaken; the provincial bank strictly forbade officials from driving official vehicles last year. Someone as cautious as Wen Lu wouldn’t—”

Tao’s reply made Zhang leap from the sofa, forgetting the short cord, which caused the handset to crash down.

“Yes, he was driving himself, in the Toyota belonging to Kanghong’s provincial office chief. And unbelievably, he was drunk driving! That’s the traffic police’s on-site conclusion. I find it puzzling, because since the provincial bank banned self-driving last year, my brother-in-law hasn’t touched the wheel. Early this year, they even sold the car at a loss. He told me countless times that driving on official business was too risky, joking he’d rather play driving games for hours on the computer if he wanted to drive at all.”

Tao’s sobbing intensified.

Zhang pressed on,

“Tao Kan, I need to ask you honestly about one thing—don’t overthink it, I mean no harm.”

He sighed deeply and asked:

“Was there a young woman in the Toyota when the accident happened?”

“Uncle, how did you know that?” Tao asked, startled.

“Well, is that true?” Zhang asked.

“Yes, it’s true. I know several provincial drivers who arrived earlier. They said besides my brother-in-law, one of the two injured passengers was a woman in her twenties, reportedly dressed like a nightclub hostess. But there were other men in the car too. Uncle, what does this have to do with my brother-in-law?”

“Nothing, I’m just trying to gather all the facts. Don’t worry. I can’t come now. Kan, please comfort your father for me. We must focus on the bigger picture. Especially you must watch your words carefully at this sensitive time. If you think you can handle things there, get your father back to Songyang soon. His blood pressure is high; he won’t withstand this shock. Besides, I need to discuss some important matters with him upon his return.”

...

Zhang’s mind was in a state of near-total chaos.

He sat on the sofa, agonizing over every word Tao had just said.

From Tao’s account, two sensitive facts emerged: first, Wen Lu was drunk driving; second, besides Wen Lu and Kanghong’s finance director, a young woman was in the car. Drunk driving was damning evidence against Wen Lu, and the presence of the young woman was perplexing.

Zhang could not make a definitive judgment.

His mind flashed back to the nonsense Vice President Yin Sen had spoken earlier and his inscrutable expression.

All these signs tangled inside Zhang’s heart, weaving a confusing and sprawling web that rapidly expanded like a snowball, becoming a massive barrier blocking his troubled chest.

He repeatedly pondered: Why did Wen Lu suddenly take a silent detour through Kanghong Group, traveling with others to the provincial capital? Was he deliberately hiding this from the vice presidents or just not informing Zhang Maolin? Why did he, who had abandoned driving long ago, take the wheel again—and while intoxicated? What caused this string of strange events?

Overwhelmed and restless, Zhang had no desire for anything. The warm air from the air conditioner hissed steadily in the room.

He paced slowly with hands behind his back, recalling President Wang’s detailed instructions in front of the leadership team, his mind in turmoil.

Zhang speculated privately how Tao Ye, Tao Shouli, and Wen Lu’s parents might confront the branch. The death of one person touched three families, and the aftermath would undoubtedly bring unforeseen challenges for Zhang as disciplinary secretary.

In truth, Zhang did not fear handling sensitive or difficult matters. Over the years, he had successfully resolved numerous employee complaints and departmental disputes, minimizing non-operational costs and safeguarding the bank’s public image—one reason Wang Weixin respected him so much.

The people of Songyang were rough and stubborn, with a strong local xenophobia.

Outsiders rarely found a foothold, and many dispatched leaders from direct units failed to succeed, often ending their careers prematurely due to misconduct reports—from corruption to moral failings and reckless decisions.

In Songyang, whistleblowers tended to file reports in groups, showing the authenticity and courage behind their accusations.

When Wang Weixin first arrived as an official dispatched from the provincial bank, he proudly carried himself with a high chest, raised chin, and lofty gait, deliberately crafting the image of a powerful imperial envoy.

He intended his first steps to make a resounding impact, establishing rules and authority among the subordinate mid-level cadres and unruly staff.

Yet fate intervened. A sudden, unexpected event almost shattered his reputation and nearly capsized his ambitions.

...

It was just before New Year in 1994 when the Songyang Xing Commercial Bank headquarters’ renovation was completed—a project that had consumed Wang’s nearly two years of effort. As Wang described it, it was like draping the bank in a resplendent purple-gold robe, a groundbreaking and meritorious undertaking.

He had made three trips to Beijing to secure substantial special funds. Some joked that the renovation was “piercing clouds and drilling earth” in scale: from the lightning rod atop the 25th floor to the boiler room chimney base and even the mouse holes and ant nests in the drainage, all gilded!

Most astonishingly, Wang personally decided to purchase over a hundred luxurious floor-standing air conditioners, indoor oxygen machines, and automatic water dispensers, equipping every office and restroom, impressing and stunning all employees.

However, as Wang’s ambitions soared, a sudden blow nearly shattered his dreams: installing so many electrical devices required a significant power capacity upgrade for the entire building—a matter he had never considered a problem.

The director of the branch’s infrastructure office repeatedly pleaded with the local power bureau, to no avail.

Finally, Wang appeared in person. When he arrogantly confronted the young power bureau director with gifts in hand, the latter scowled, handing the gifts back with a mildly hurtful but deeply insulting remark:

“We Songyang people have hot blood; ginseng and deer antler aren’t as useful as a plate of cold dog meat! The power bureau never needs loans. If you want to show off, better find another door. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!”

Wang, once so confident, met his first major setback in Songyang, having no choice but to admit defeat.

He deeply realized that his reputation meant nothing outside the bank.

He began to regret his stubborn and blind decisions. A chilling fear arose. He knew what those nearly one million yuan worth of appliances meant. If the power upgrade project stalled, the massive fixed assets would be wasted—a responsibility he could never shoulder.

Worse, these purchases were not in the renovation budget, making them unauthorized expenses.

Wang’s plan was to rely on his provincial contacts to smooth over the reimbursement process, hoping that after completion, all related costs would be reclassified as fixed assets, with the appliance costs quietly absorbed into the accounts, leaving no trace.

He rationalized that although unauthorized, the expenses were for official use, not a slush fund or financial abuse. Despite technical flaws, the improved office environment and enhanced employee morale—and Wang’s elevated image—were worth it.

This “people-friendly investment” idea pervaded Wang’s tenure until the power bureau’s refusal cooled his enthusiasm.

After exhausting all efforts, Wang entrusted the matter to Zhang.

Before Zhang, Wang was sincere and heartfelt, leaving Zhang no room to refuse.

A week later, Zhang presented the full approval for the power upgrade to Wang.

Seeing Zhang exhausted, Wang unexpectedly lifted him and spun him three times in the office, exhilarated.

He then handed the finance director a blank check, declaring Zhang the bank’s top hero, promising to cover all expenses related to the power bureau negotiations.

Zhang, however, frowned and explained the matter was routine, citing the bank’s earlier procedural mistakes and Wang’s misguided gift choices.

Wang finally understood, nodding repeatedly.

...

These faded old stories drifted like debris in the wild wind outside.

Zhang lay back on the sofa, deep in thought.

Flickering images of Wen Lu’s usually vibrant yet steady face appeared before him. Seeing Wen Lu sometimes reminded Zhang of his own youth, evoking an inexplicable fondness. He acknowledged this affinity was partly due to his close private ties with Wen Lu’s father-in-law Tao Shouli. Before retirement, Tao was head of personnel and office director at the bank. They had been inseparable childhood friends, their fathers close comrades, bound as sworn brothers.

Years ago, Zhang’s father died rescuing a drowning boy, causing Tao’s father severe illness, nearly fatal.

...

In terms of work, Zhang had little contact with lower staff, especially section-level cadres like Wen Lu. In daily operations, only at the annual end-of-year reports did mid-level cadres discuss work with the disciplinary secretary. Otherwise, Zhang and Wen Lu had few interactions.

As a full-time disciplinary secretary, Zhang subconsciously avoided excessive contact with any mid-level cadre, mindful of the sensitive nature of his position. He preferred maintaining a slight emotional distance others, especially younger employees, could accept. He intentionally created subtle psychological boundaries to preserve appropriate interpersonal distance.

Zhang believed that as a disciplinary secretary, crossing boundaries with subordinates could spell trouble for both sides. Though he lacked precise theoretical justification, his intuition shaped his consistent approach. Thus, despite Tao Shouli’s personal ties, Zhang’s private interactions with Wen Lu were minimal.

Zhang’s frank and straightforward nature was well-known among the bank’s staff. Wang often joked, “You’re a big disciplinary secretary; even without putting on airs, subordinates respect you. Why always wear that grim expression? That confuses the young. How can we implement the party’s grassroots line, sharing glory and disgrace, if you intimidate them?”

To Wang’s advice, Zhang would respond coldly, then argue at length that the disciplinary secretary was a minor official, that his role involved constant criticism and unpopularity, and that it was better not to cozy up or play sycophant. If one day he issued a disciplinary notice, previous warmth would turn sour. Better to keep a stern face and gain some respect than fake friendliness and risk exposure as a traitor. He gave an example: if prosecutors or anti-corruption officials visited the branch for three days, would the uninformed think the president was in trouble or that they were just making friends?

At this, Wang would blush and glare wordlessly.

...

Page 3/3