In the living room of a private club, Gan Dayao, a functionary from the Foreign Affairs Bureau, sat cradling a teacup. He was in his thirties, wore a pair of square-framed glasses, and his hair was a bit messy. He was sizing up his surroundings, his feet shuffling restlessly, betraying a slight nervousness.
Although no one had come for a long time and the tea on the table had been refilled three times, he remained seated, as if bound to his spot.
Anyone who had ever worked in an administrative department could tell at a glance that this was a clerk who had spent years in an office, swallowing his grievances and just dutifully doing his job.
The club door was pushed open from the outside, and Wei Jun entered with his butler and several security guards. Seeing them, Gan Dayao quickly set his cup aside. He half-rose from his seat before getting to his feet with a certain stiffness.
