In the hallway, the atmosphere was somewhat stagnant.
Congressman Zhao's two bodyguards had sharp eyes, still staring at the now closed elevator door, their hands instinctively on the inside of their suits.
The old man with the red face had a slight glimmer in his eyes, accompanied by some thought.
The downward indicator light of the elevator lit up, and the few people waited quietly.
"Old Dong, what's wrong?"
The middle-aged man referred to as "Congressman Zhao" asked, his voice steady.
"Oh, it's nothing."
The old man with the red face snapped back, shaking his head:
"The young guy in the elevator just now reminded me of an old acquaintance, maybe I was mistaken."
Congressman Zhao nodded slightly, not pressing further, instead patting the old man on the shoulder, and said sincerely:
"Old Dong, I owe it all to your advice and support, and for rallying for me in the legal community, that I managed to turn the tide and win this crucial round in Congress."
