MWC – Chapter 205 Summoned by a Big Shot

I AM DROPPING THIS NOVEL. IF ANYONE WANTS TO CONTINUE THEY CAN. IF POSSIBLE PLEASE SHARE THE LINK SO I CAN BINGE READ TOO.

The parliamentary session on the 30th passed uneventfully. No representative proposed to repeal the Temporary Act on Freezing Rental Prices for Ordinary Residential Housing, so the entire day turned into a friendly consultative meeting. Members spoke and debated various hot topics, with some giving passionate speeches.

By 3 p.m., the agenda was exhausted, and the Speaker adjourned the meeting.

Lu Ming left quickly—he had an unexpected visitor to meet.

…

The Guanhexuan Room of the Wolong Teahouse resembled a riverside barge. From a private suite on the second floor, one could see through the red-latticed windows the clear river waters tinged with the first hints of green—just the time when “the lotus tip barely breaks the surface.”

Opposite Lu Ming sat a thin, elderly man. Hearing Lu Ming recite “the lotus tip barely breaks the surface,” he paused slightly and then smiled. “I didn’t expect our Committee Member Qianxing to be not only a top lawyer but also such a cultured gentleman. Truly a talent of our party!”

This thin elderly man was Fang Shouwang—the Party Whip of the Grand Public Party, overseeing the entire party empire-wide.

He was also the head of the Grand Public Party’s Donghai Chapter.

The Donghai Chapter governed the party’s subdivisions across one major region, six states, and one province, all under its jurisdiction.

Empire-wide, the Grand Public Party ranked third among opposition parties.

In terms of parliamentary seats in the Federal Empire’s Parliament and the Lower House of the Kingdom of Gryffiny, it ranked fifth.

It had also experienced periods of glory in coalition governments with other parties.

Even now in opposition, it remained a formidable force no major party dared to overlook.

Within the party, Fang Shouwang ranked third in seniority.

He was also one of the five members of the Donghai Municipal Council and served as the Shadow Minister of Energy in Gryffiny’s shadow cabinet.

From any angle, Fang Shouwang was a national-level political figure, already on the threshold of the empire’s top political echelon—though he hadn’t yet broken into the actual cabinet as a sitting minister.

The so-called shadow cabinet is a preparatory body formed by opposition parties to counter the ruling government and provide alternative policies.

Lu Ming didn’t know why he had been summoned—especially to a place like the Wolong Teahouse, and in person.

At that moment, he casually quoted the poetic line in the Zhongzhou dialect, only for Fang to praise it with delight.

Then Fang pointed toward the silver ribbon of the Wolong River and said with a smile, “Qianxing, the river view is lovely. How about we each compose a poem—one with classical rhyme?”

Lu Ming spread his hands. “Elder Fang, I really can’t do that. The line I just quoted was actually written by a good friend of mine.”

Fang clearly hadn’t expected that answer. He smiled gently. “Too lazy to humor this old man, are you?”

In truth, Lu Ming really didn’t want to waste time. After all, how hard would it be to adapt some classics from his past life?

“Alright, alright, young people nowadays care about efficiency in everything. We old folks are outdated, obsolete, can’t keep up with the times. My grandson even asked me if I know what science fiction is. Do I know what aliens might look like? He watched a movie—Lost in Space, I think—said it was very imaginative.”

Fang sighed. “This is truly the age of information overload.”

He looked at Lu Ming. “That’s why I was genuinely pleased when someone like you appeared in our party. I had always planned to meet you once the leadership for your chapter was settled. Once it was confirmed to be you, I wanted to come personally. Who would’ve thought—your current chapter head, Elder Qing, just won’t step down, right? He really should enjoy his twilight years. You all should give him some peace.”

Elder Qing had retired, and he should have relinquished his party leadership role as well.

But unexpectedly, the current Municipal Council included two Grand Public Party members—Lu Ming and Dong Wenquan.

Traditionally, the party leader should be chosen from its municipal councilors. Historically, the Beiguan Chapter had never had two such members simultaneously.

This created internal disagreements. Although the majority supported Lu Ming as chapter leader, some backed Dong Wenquan, arguing that appointing a 19-year-old as chapter head was absurd.

To prevent a split in the party, Elder Qing reluctantly stayed in his position, planning to pass the baton at a more appropriate time.

“An old friend of Elder Qing even came to me,” Fang said casually, gazing out the window, seemingly entranced by the scenery. “Said you’re too young.”

Lu Ming smiled, knowing they thought he was too naive to understand why Dong Wenquan’s support had suddenly grown.

But he understood Elder Qing. For aging men in power, everything else may seem trivial or negotiable—but relinquishing power? That’s the hardest challenge of all.

Having two party members in the city council made Elder Qing realize he could use that to stay in power longer.

Before the election, he had already become politically isolated. That likely caused a deep sense of imbalance, making him even more reluctant to let go.

Now, with a succession struggle, both Lu Ming’s and Dong Wenquan’s factions would court his favor, allowing him to relive the glory of once commanding absolute authority.

Lu Ming was well aware of this—Nine-sister had even hinted at it subtly.

Glancing at Fang, Lu Ming said with a smile, “I am indeed very young. I think we still need Elder Qing for now. I feel more secure with him at the helm.”

Fang Shouwang looked at him deeply, then nodded. “You’re very magnanimous. Good. A true talent!”

This compliment carried a completely different tone than the earlier polite praise.

Fang chuckled. “You wouldn’t even be the youngest mayor. Wasn’t there a seventeen-year-old mayor some ten-odd years ago?”

Lu Ming smiled. “Yes.” But that was just a town with a few thousand people. Administratively, it was classified as a state-level town, same as Beiguan. And that kid only lasted one term before being voted out.

This world, unlike the China of his past life, more resembled contemporary Western systems. In any state, a city like Beiguan, with several hundred thousand residents, was considered a major urban center.

Fang nodded. “So you see, age isn’t really the issue. No wonder my grandson calls us old fossils. Frankly, we have too many of those in the party.”

Lu Ming didn’t respond, simply raised his cup and sipped his tea.

“Alright, enough of that. I did come to see you for something else.” Fang smiled. “Old Wang—the one who recommended you to Mantangmei—was an old friend of mine. We haven’t spoken in over thirty years. Yesterday, he suddenly called me, begging for a favor. Asked me to speak to you on his behalf. Haha! That guy used to look down on us politicians, always cursing and saying politicians aren’t even human. And now he’s come to me for help! Haha, haha!”

He laughed heartily—clearly, the fact that this old friend had to bow his head gave him great satisfaction.

Lu Ming was momentarily stunned. Mantangmei was the stage name of Li Yumei.

“Of course, it depends on the situation. Andong isn’t exactly a great place. If you can avoid going, better not go,” Fang said, shaking his head.

Andong and its surrounding provinces were directly governed by the Kingdom’s cabinet—administered by appointed governors, colloquially known as “high officials.”

These officials not only directly appointed bureaucrats across the major departments, but also had the power to appoint members of both the Executive and Legislative Councils.

Much like colonial governors in pre-1997 Hong Kong.

Though the terms of these high officials were usually short—never more than ten years—during their tenure, they were virtual emperors.

As a former buffer zone against the Northern Provinces, the Empire’s upper echelons had once believed only authoritarian mobilization could match authoritarian threats.

Thus emerged the peculiar system of the Jiangnan Five Provinces.

Essentially, these provinces had always been treated like colonies. They had never been granted noble estates or established duchies.

For centuries, their educational and social investment lagged far behind that of the imperial “homeland.”

The Jiangnan Five Provinces remained some of the poorest areas in Gryffiny—second only to a few parts of the western frontier.

However, compared to the war-torn and fragmented North, Jiangnan was still relatively peaceful, and incomes were marginally higher.

Still, to people from Donghai, Jiangnan was considered a remote, backward region.

So while Fang mentioned the favor, he genuinely left the decision to Lu Ming. After all, though young, Lu Ming was already a rising star in Donghai and had many responsibilities. Going to a place as barren as that to take on some unknown legal case required careful thought.

Lu Ming pondered and said, “Hmm, I’ll think it over. But in any case, it’ll have to wait a few days. I’m serving as a judge in a military tribunal tomorrow.”

Fang just smiled and said nothing more.