Cardboard Door

In the autumn of 2006, twenty-five-year-old Lu Hanyi had only just started working at the grassroots level when a petition about resettlement housing landed on his desk. The gleaming security door was cut open, revealing compacted cardboard inside. On paper, all the inspection and acceptance documents were in order, while undercurrents of personal connections swirled among the parties involved. At a dinner full of hidden barbs, cigarettes, alcohol, favors, and probing questions came one after another. With shallow roots and no one to back him, he faced a choice between the easy way out others offered and the weighty hopes of the resettled residents. Neither greedy nor rash, he held fast to his principles amid the tangled web of personal relations, stood by his bottom line, and gave the people an answer.