The Official’s Road: From Grassroots to the Summit

Lin Yuan picked up the old suitcase that had been with him for four years. Its wheels clattered over the gravel road, the sound especially grating in the quiet mountain dusk.

“Hey, young man, where are you headed?” The man squatting at the end stood up, showing a mouthful of yellow teeth. He was in his forties, with a scar running from the corner of his left eye down to his chin.

“To report to the town government.” Lin Yuan tried to keep his voice steady.

The men exchanged glances, then burst out laughing.

“Reporting in? A college graduate?” The scar-faced man sized him up. “Dressed so neatly. First day here, huh?”

Lin Yuan nodded.

“Go on, then. The government compound is up ahead. See that old pagoda tree? Turn right.” The scar-faced man squatted back down and lit another cigarette. “But take my advice: it's getting dark. Find somewhere to stay for the night first. That rundown town government building is empty by five.”

“Thanks.” Lin Yuan dragged his suitcase onward.

Muted laughter came from behind him.

“Another idiot.”

“I bet he won't last half a month.”

“I give him ten days.”

He didn't look back, only tightened his grip on the suitcase handle. Inside were his master's degree diploma in public administration from Peking University, his score report showing he ranked first in the province's civil service selection exam, and the two thousand yuan his mother, his adoptive mother, had secretly tucked in before he left.

“Xiaoyuan, don't be stubborn when you get there. Know when to bow your head.”