The Light of Officialdom

He came from a muddy village road without streetlights, and spent twenty years walking into the city's myriad lights. Lin Zhou, at twenty-two, was the first college student in his village. His ancestors were farmers, his family destitute. He gave up a city job to return home and take the civil service exam. On his first day reporting for duty, he was publicly humiliated: "From a poor mountain valley, don't stand out." He lived in a moldy dormitory with peeling walls and took on hot potatoes no one dared touch. When a mountain flood broke out, he was the first to jump into the floodwaters. During a road construction project, someone slapped 80,000 yuan in cash on his desk. From mediating a 30-centimeter land dispute between two families to making decisions for the development of millions in a city—he spent twenty years. Some advised him to pick sides, some forced him to compromise, some threatened his childhood friend's business to make him yield. His answer was only one sentence: "I am a son of farmers; I stand with the people." An ordinary man, without background, without backing, without a golden finger, relying solely on an unyielding heart and feet covered in mud, he rose from a township clerk to mayor. Starting from the mud, never betraying the people. For an official, the ultimate destination is the myriad lights of the city.