In the late autumn of 1984, the courtyard of the Guangjiang Provincial Party Committee.
Twenty-year-old Gu Zhanyuan walked into the Civil Affairs Department and began his career adventure among the piles of documents.
Born in a rural area, he has no background and is not good at flattering people. His only weapon is a pen - a photographic memory, precise and sophisticated writing skills, and a pair of eyes that can read the undercurrent of power from the lines of official documents.
From document circulation officer to provincial governor's confidant, from deputy mayor to frontier official. Twenty years of five-level dance, every step is like dancing on the tip of a knife.
Some people pulled him into line, some handed him a petition, some paved the way for him, and some dug holes for him. He climbed up on each step - the steps were the road to blue clouds and the abyss.
The governor left an unopened document. The old leader wrote a last letter before his death. There is an unsent letter hidden by his father's grave. Three letters, three generations, the same decision.
When he finally stood at the altar and saw the sky, he realized that the sky was still the same at the end of the steps.
He won, but also lost.
——A history of the ups and downs of a grassroots secretary's official career, an ukiyo-e of officialdom over the past 20 years of reform and opening up.
