In the sweltering heat of May in Beijing, the clock on the wall of the Propaganda Department ticked steadily. Zhuang Zhixi glanced at it and noticed that it was almost time for the legendary hour: two o'clock.
He remained calm, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. After all, he was the victim in this situation, so naturally, he knew nothing. Who could predict what would happen?
Zhuang Zhixi leaned back in his chair, organizing the documents for the year. As part of the Propaganda Department, it was essential to thoroughly understand the directives from above and grasp the various spirits of the times to work more effectively.
He was a man who could stay focused, and as he was reading intently, he heard a commotion outside. Sister Cui rushed to the window and exclaimed, "There's a fight at the small warehouse!"
From their vantage point, they could only see a vague crowd, but not the details. Sister Cui darted out like a rabbit, and a few other curious onlookers quickly followed.
