Chapter 6: Floating Dust
Night had fallen as Li Chongping stepped into the private club known as Maze Mansion. The corridor was lined with a thick red carpet that completely muffled his footsteps. Only a few wall sconces glowed dimly, casting faint halos of light that stretched and warped his shadow with each step. The building's layout was like a labyrinth: hallways twisted and turned, doors led into more doors, seemingly intent on making visitors lose their sense of direction. Li Chongping moved forward slowly, one hand lightly adjusting the knot of his tie to steady his breathing while he discreetly surveyed his surroundings.
He pushed open an ornately carved wooden door. Warm light spilled out from inside, illuminating Li Chongping's slightly weary face. Several people were already waiting in the room: Zhou Chengji, the deputy mayor in charge of civil affairs, was murmuring in conversation with the director of the Xiangci Foundation. At the sound of the door, they set down their teacups and rose to greet him. A few other mid-level officials also hurriedly stood up to exchange polite smiles. Only an elderly section chief lounging on a sofa in the corner moved sluggishly—bracing himself on the coffee table as he got up, he muttered a muddled greeting, his expression clouded and unreadable.
Li Chongping nodded to each person in turn, maintaining a polite yet dignified smile. In his mind, however, he took careful note of their faces: behind Zhou Chengji's warmth lurked a subtle hint of probing; beneath the foundation director's hearty banter lay a glimmer of scrutiny; and the old chief's eyes, shifting unpredictably, suggested he had something to say but was holding his tongue.
After a few pleasantries, Zhou Chengji cleared his throat and offered some remarks before the discussion officially began. He thanked the Xiangci Foundation for its strong support of the city's public welfare initiatives in recent years. This latest donation to build a rehabilitation center for the disabled, he declared, was a virtuous deed that benefited the nation and the people. His words were earnest and enthusiastic. The foundation's director responded with humility, insisting it was merely their social responsibility and not something to claim credit for. The exchange created a warm and congenial atmosphere—one official seized the chance to pipe up and praise the foundation's charitable work and the leaders' farsighted support.
Before long, the foundation director, still smiling, deftly steered the conversation in another direction. He remarked that without Director Li's vigorous cooperation, their project could never have proceeded so smoothly. As soon as the words left his mouth, several officials' gazes turned toward Li Chongping. Li paused for an instant, then quickly regained his composure. He lifted his teacup to hide any ripple of emotion inside and replied evenly that he was simply doing his duty. His tone was calm, betraying no hint of delight or displeasure. As he finished speaking, he lowered his eyes to mask the look in them, leaving only a polite smile on his lips. Yet he understood perfectly: such lavish praise was like a silk-gloved hand gently pushing him forward. Once the flattery settled on his shoulders, it would become even harder to avoid shouldering the implied responsibility later.
Soon after, the foundation director cheerfully suggested that everyone move to the dining room for the evening banquet. The group dutifully rose from their seats. Li Chongping took advantage of the commotion to excuse himself to the restroom. Slowing his pace, he lingered toward the back of the group as they filed out.
The hallway returned to its earlier hush; only distant laughter echoed faintly from the direction of the dining room. In the dim light, the walls were lined with photographs of the Xiangci Foundation's charity events over the years and plaques honoring its donors. Li Chongping cast a cursory glance over the rows of names etched into brass plates. Line after line of gilded characters reflected a cold glint under the low light. Suddenly, one name leaped out at him—it looked ordinary at first, but the surname "Tang" swam before his eyes like a drop of dark ink spreading in water, sending a mild shock through his heart.
At that very moment, a faint voice rose in Li's memory—a phone call from Lin Qishan in the capital late one night a week ago. Lin had warned him that the Xiangci Foundation had recently come under the scrutiny of the disciplinary commission, and that its tangled finances included a transaction connected to someone known as "Atang." He urged Li to stay vigilant. A respectable charity entangled with an underworld figure—how could that be? Li had been skeptical at the time. But now, staring at that gleaming Tang on the donor board, a sense of foreboding crept over him, causing his breath to catch in his throat.
In a daze, Li caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. He turned to find that at some point the old section chief had also emerged nearby, a half-burned cigarette pinched between his fingers. The old chief followed Li's gaze to the donor plaque, his face impassive in the hazy amber light. He sighed and remarked softly, "Nowadays, anyone willing to put up big money for good deeds—there isn't a single one of them who's simple." His final words trailed off slowly, like an ambiguous sigh. With that, he ground out his cigarette butt in a wall-mounted ashtray, cast Li Chongping a long, inscrutable look, and then strolled back toward the banquet hall.
Li remained where he was, realizing that a cold sweat had broken out across his back. He closed his eyes briefly and let out a slow, heavy breath. After collecting himself, he turned and left the depths of the corridor to rejoin the others.
By the time the banquet drew to a close, the clink of glasses and the buzz of conversation had gradually subsided into silence. The Xiangci Foundation's director had already departed early, and the remaining officials were now rising one after another to say their goodbyes. Li Chongping followed the crowd out through the club's main doors. The night breeze caressed his face with a touch of chill, and he inhaled deeply as he tilted his head back to gaze at the deep, dark sky.
At the bottom of the steps, drivers stood waiting beside their cars. Zhou Chengji walked alongside Li. Seizing a moment when no one else was within earshot, Zhou lowered his voice and said that the "old leader" held Li in high regard — in fact, just a few days ago this leader had even mentioned Li's name and might invite him for a talk sometime soon. Li knew at once that by "old leader," Zhou was referring to Vice Mayor Pang Sinan. A tightness gripped Li's chest, but he kept his expression unchanged. He nodded in appreciation and assured Zhou that he would comply with any arrangements. Zhou gave a satisfied nod. Then, in a meaningful tone, he added, "From now on, we're all in the same boat." With that, he patted Li on the shoulder, turned, and headed down the steps to the black sedan waiting nearby.
Li Chongping remained standing on the steps, watching the red tail lights of Zhou's car disappear into the night. His chest still felt constricted, and the phrase "in the same boat" echoed in his ears. It was as if an invisible thread had begun winding around his wrist—ready with one tug to pull him back into that convoluted maze. He let out a bitter chuckle under his breath. The poised composure he had maintained all evening finally slipped away, replaced by a weariness that refused to leave his brow. Slowly, he loosened his stiff tie. The night wind seized the opening and slipped in under his collar, raising a chill on his skin.
Just then, his driver rushed over carrying an exquisite gift bag emblazoned with the Xiangci Foundation's emblem. Apparently one of the club staff had just handed it over as a memento. Li Chongping was taken aback, then nodded and gestured for the driver to place the bag in the trunk. The bag was small, but it had an unusually heavy heft; the satin-finished logo caught a faint glimmer of light in the darkness, hinting at something indefinable. Li averted his eyes, deliberately avoiding any further thought about its weighty contents.
Not far away, a sedan glided up to the curb. Li pulled himself together, quickly descended the steps, and slipped into the back seat. The car door closed with a solid thunk, sealing out the wind. He sank back against the seat, eyes half-closed with exhaustion. Outside the window, streetlights slid by one after another, their hazy orange glow glancing off the glass and flickering across his face.
The imposing silhouette of Maze Mansion gradually receded into the distance. A few windows still glowed from its façade, hanging in the night like cold, watchful eyes silently observing the departing vehicle. Li Chongping slowly closed his own eyes. He could still feel the lingering warmth of those handshakes on his fingertips—yet now that warmth felt utterly foreign. The night was deep and dark as ink. In that darkness, he imagined unseen currents surging, converging into an unfathomable shadow looming ahead.