shackles
The arrival of the audit team was like a boulder dropped into a seemingly calm lake, suddenly stirring up waves within Changqing Chemical. In the past, annual reviews had been a tacit understanding, a mere formality, culminating in a standard unqualified opinion report—a win-win for everyone. But this time, the atmosphere was completely different from the outset.
Chairman Xu Wu personally issued a directive: the audit threshold for minor misstatements must be set at zero. All errors, regardless of the amount, must be accumulated and reported. Communication of all misstatements must be escalated directly to the governance level, bypassing management. As soon as the news broke, undercurrents surged across departments, as if an invisible sword of Damocles hung over everyone's head.
The Finance Department bore the brunt of the attack. The audit team requested a mountain of documentation, from original documents to system logs, from contract approval processes to fund transfer records. Everything was thoroughly scrutinized. Internal control flaws were exposed one by one: flawed job separation of duties, systematic discrepancies in inventory counts, and unexplained errors in the cash journal. The most devastating blow came from the procurement and payment cycle, which the auditors singled out as "particularly significant risk"—fraud.
Wu Jiaming was facing an equipment maintenance plan in his workshop office when he received an audit inquiry. His brow furrowed, his tone steady as he addressed each of the audit's questions about production data compatibility. He insisted that all production processes were compliant and the data was authentic, but the auditors' repeated requests for details and supporting evidence left him feeling a sense of distrust. He was worried not only about the audit itself, but also about its potential impact—whether it would affect the ongoing technological transformation projects? Would the production department become constrained by the need to meet "compliance" requirements? He was well aware of Xu Wu's ambitions, but he also knew better than anyone that once production safety and quality became secondary considerations, the company would lose its footing.
Meanwhile, Chairman You and Sister Wang from the Administration Department...had also become much quieter. Normally, they were the two loudest in the office, sharing every household detail and company gossip. But these days, the office was often staring blankly at their computer screens or speaking in hushed tones on the phone, their voices tinged with anxiety. "Every day they need materials, and they keep digging up old accounts... I'm really getting what I feared..." she once complained to Lin Xiaoning, her eyes flickering, her words hesitant, as if she were harboring something unspoken.
The storm reached its climax when the purchasing manager was taken away from his office by police. News spread like wildfire, spreading throughout the company. Whispers spread in the tea rooms and hallways: cash-outs, collusion with suppliers, bid rigging, accounting fraud... all sorts of outrageous speculation took on concrete form. At this sensitive moment, CFO Zhao Qing, citing "illness," was rushed to the hospital, attempting to distance herself from the center of the storm. Her absence undoubtedly added a layer of mystery to the turmoil. Anyone with a discerning eye could see that this was the beginning of a conflict between the gods...
At the hastily convened shareholders' meeting, the air was thick with tension. Xu Wu and his meticulously crafted blueprint for the IPO became the target of widespread criticism, slammed as "empty talk" and "overly ambitious." Accusations of chaotic internal management and ineffective internal controls intensified. Fearing a potential upset, various factions seized upon the opportunity to dethrone Xu Wu. The backroom dealings were fierce and brutal. Ultimately, Xu Wu, driven by a desire to maintain stability, was forced to make significant concessions and compromises, hoping to quickly defuse the situation and return the company to a more peaceful and resilient path.
Amidst this chaos and low pressure, Ye Yidong's spirits seemed unusually low. As a key internal auditor, he saw more clearly than anyone how the intricate, entangled web of interests operated, and how it was ruthlessly severed in the midst of the storm to protect himself. Adding to his inner torment, his father—the Chief Prosecutor, whom he had once resented and tried to distance himself from—actually approached him.
Ye Zhengdong's father arrived calmly but wearily. He didn't accuse or scold, but with an unusually heavy tone, he unveiled the dusty past, a Zhao Xianqi case that was far more complicated and darker than Ye Yidong had imagined:
"Yidong, what happened back then isn't as black and white as you thought when you angrily left home." Ye Zhengdong's eyes were fixed on the distance, as if penetrating time. "Zhao Xianqi is talented and courageous, but he's too aggressive. The case he represented was extremely involved and complex."
He lifted his teacup, his knuckles white from the effort. "A tree that stands out in the forest will be cut down by the wind. He was so prominent that he inevitably offended many competitors. At that time, reports of him 'inciting perjury' flew like snowflakes throughout the city and provincial governments. They were anonymous, with real names. The content was extremely specific, right down to the details and key points of him 'suggesting' the witness to go to a certain cafe on a certain afternoon to 'think it over'. There were even clips of the recording edited to make it seem like he was inciting perjury."
"Public opinion was surging against Zhao Xianqi. Zhao Xianqi was young and energetic at that time. He believed that he was speaking out for justice and fighting injustice, and he would never bother to explain these 'tactics'. But the public opinion field needs to be explained, and the system requires an 'explanation'. The situation at the time was that if Zhao Xianqi did not 'admit' some procedural flaws to 'calm public anger', he might not only face the revocation of his license, but the more serious risk of criminal prosecution - because if the hat of 'perjury' was completely put on, coupled with the chain of evidence that was 'pieced together' at the time, the consequences would be unimaginable." Ye Zhengdong's voice was filled with the fatigue that only comes from someone who has experienced high pressure.
"My position at the time," Ye Zhengdong's voice deepened, "was that position. On one side was the seemingly conclusive 'evidence' and 'public outrage' that were being constantly amplified by the media and superiors. On the other side was a talented, renowned young lawyer who had violated unspoken rules and had been caught with procedural issues. There was also pressure from my superiors. All parties were watching me, and a single misstep could have ignited an even bigger turmoil."
He sighed deeply. "Given the evidence, having my license revoked is the least I'd have to sacrifice compared to jail time. It's a heavy burden to be in that position, being watched by countless eyes and pushed forward by countless forces."
His father didn't blame or reprimand him. Instead, he offered a poignant understanding, even... an apology. In a calm, even weary tone, he slowly recounted the many circumstances of those years, describing his helplessness and struggle. His father's words, like a blunt knife, slowly and persistently cut through the psychological shell Ye Yidong had long used to protect himself, revealing the wounds that had never truly healed and the confusion hidden beneath. Especially when his father was "backstabbed," his mother's tears and her helpless helplessness...
At that moment, the faith that had sustained him through years of rebellion, that had sustained his determination to escape his family, seemed to suddenly collapse. The "righteousness" he had always upheld, the very notion of clarity he had believed in, became blurred. Under his father's sorrowful and complex gaze, his resolute rebellion against his family seemed like a childish, reckless gamble of youth. A profound sense of confusion and guilt washed over him like a tide.
That evening, Lin Xiaoning received a call from Ye Yidong. The voice that came through the receiver was no longer his usual calm, gentle, and articulate. Instead, it was slurred, choked with sobs and mumblings, clearly intoxicated. Her heart sank; she had never seen him so out of control before.
When she hurried over, she found Ye Yidong slumped in the corner of the bar, his back against a sofa, several empty bottles scattered on the table. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol. His eyes were vacant, his tie askew, and he kept muttering, "Drink... keep drinking..." It was impossible to tell whether he was drunk or sober.
Lin Xiaoning struggled to lift him up, half-carrying him back to the apartment. Back at his residence, Ye Yidong's frayed nerves seemed to snap completely, his emotions collapsing like a flash flood. His fragmented, incoherent narrative gradually turned into a raging sob, pouring out his father's words, his mother's helpless tears, his own inner turmoil, self-doubt, and heavy guilt—all in a chaotic and unreserved stream.
"He didn't even blame me... He even apologized to me... Xiaoning, do you think I was wrong? I always thought I was right and righteous... But my father was also implementing the decision of the Procuratorate... I was..." He burst into tears, like a child who had been trekking in the fog for too long and finally found his way home, but found that the door of his home had changed. He was full of helplessness, panic and great loss.
Lin Xiaoning's heart tightened, aching and bitter. She knelt down and pulled his trembling body tightly into her arms, trying to give him a tiny bit of comfort and support with her frail embrace. Like a drowning man grasping at a piece of driftwood, Ye Yidong hugged her back even harder, his scalding tears quickly soaking the clothes on her shoulders. She pecked at his forehead and eyelids, kissing away the salty liquid, hoping to kiss away the deep pain in his heart.
However, this intimacy, born of heartache and comfort, gradually distorted and spiraled out of control, fueled by the interplay of alcohol and extreme emotions. Ye Yidong's embrace grew tighter and more forceful, as if he were forcibly channeling and releasing through physical contact the pain, confusion, and resentment he couldn't express. His kisses were no longer meant to comfort, but instead took on a gnawing intensity, more like an outlet tinged with hatred and revenge—a reflection of his helplessness at the rigors of fate, a projection of his complex emotions towards his father, and perhaps also a desperate, possessive demand for the warmth of love that seemed unable to truly pull him out of the quagmire.
Lin Xiaoning retreated step by step under his powerful attack, a wave of panic and intense discomfort swirling through her heart. She clearly sensed that what was contained within wasn't pure love or tenderness, but rather a nearly brutal invasion driven by pain, a suffocating feeling that dragged her into an emotional abyss, a catastrophic collapse of long-suppressed emotions. Tears of humiliation and confusion welled up in her eyes, and her body, swirling through a complex mix of heartache, accommodation, passive acceptance, and an unknown physiological shock, experienced an unprecedented, trembling, and chaotic experience...
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