At that time, if Cheng Muyun still wanted to firmly grasp the power of the Dongzhou Army, he would have no choice but to lower himself and bow down to the Si family step by step, becoming a docile and obedient pawn on his chessboard.
Even more ingenious is the attribution of the eastern and southern routes.
The trade route connecting the north and south was nominally registered under Xu Zhuohua's name, but according to the law, it would become her husband Cheng Muyun's property once she died.
If Chairman Luo only needs to keep a firm grip on Cheng Muyun, who has a bad reputation and has no choice but to rely on him, then that lucrative business route will naturally become his for the taking, easily within his grasp.
Despite all his careful planning, Chairman Luo ultimately overlooked the most crucial element.
He thought that Xu Zhuohua was nothing more than a childhood betrothal arranged by his elders, a marriage partner after weighing the pros and cons, and a pawn that could be sacrificed at any time.
Unexpectedly, that seemingly gentle woman had already taken root in Cheng Muyun's heart, sprouted, and grown into the kind of woman he was willing to protect with everything he had.
Xu Zhuohua was not an insignificant tool for a political marriage; she was the person Cheng Muyun cherished most in his heart, the lover he would do everything in his power to protect under his wings in this turbulent world.
This deep-seated affection became the most fatal crack in Chairman Luo's perfect plan, and also the storm that overturned the entire game.
As soon as Cheng Muyun's black sedan drove out of the side gate of the military camp, before even half a tire had gone out, it was surrounded by a surging crowd.
Outside the car window, faces flushed with anger were pressed close together, rough hands pounding on the glass with brute force. The "bang bang" sounds were like heavy hammers hitting the walls of the carriage, making one's eardrums ache.
Foul language mixed with screams of "Cheng Muyun, die!" poured in from all directions, like poisoned needles, densely piercing the car.
Cheng Muyun sat in the back seat, his fingertips pressed against his brow, and closed his eyes.
The anger in these people's eyes was so real, yet so blind—the emotions of the ignorant are most easily ignited; a few deliberately incited lies can make them rush headlong at the accused "enemy" like burning dry grass.
Meanwhile, those manipulators hiding behind the scenes are sneering through the shadows, letting these unsuspecting people rush to the front lines, serving as their swords and their shields.
How ridiculous! These people think they are standing on the moral high ground of justice, believing that every punch they throw at the car window and every curse they utter is an act of eliminating harm for the people, a righteous and heroic deed.
Little did they know that they were merely pawns on someone else's chessboard, used and discarded once the game was over.
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