There was an earthquake in Binyang's officialdom, and secretaries and county magistrates were dismissed one after another. Zheng Yi, who had been sitting on the bench at the National Development and Reform Commission for six years, was thrust into the firing line - he was as clean as a blank sheet of paper and was the most suitable candidate.
On the first night he took office, a manila envelope was stuffed under the door. Inside was a photo of his wife and daughter, with a line of words written on the back: "My sister-in-law and my little niece are both beautiful. Please be careful on the road."
Someone in the dark was eyeing him. And all he could rely on was a cleaner who had been sweeping the place for twenty-three years, the scattered evidence she picked up from the shredder, and the notebook that a young man left behind with his life.
It took eighteen years for the road to collapse and eighteen years for people to die. What is being rebuilt is not only the road, but also the conscience.
