The Fastest Mayor

The "fastest" mayor, Zhou Zhengtou, is in trouble. Not on a marathon course, but in the office of the Municipal Commission for Discipline Inspection. The news spread like a gust of wind, instantly dissipating his former aura. Citizens discussed it heatedly, scrutinizing everything from the reflections on his office building's glass to his brisk strides during site visits.

Zhou Zhengtou was indeed fast. During his tenure, he was known for his "efficiency," never dilly-dallying in meetings and always being the first to arrive on project sites. In his office, a huge city planning map was displayed, with red marker circles highlighting the projects he personally oversaw. He enjoyed running in the early mornings, reportedly able to complete the entire ring road in one go, and then promptly appear in the office to start his day. He ran faster than anyone else, as if he could catch up with time, with the tide of development.

People's opinions of him were mixed. Some said he was ruthless and unscrupulous in pursuit of political achievements; others said he was decisive and a rare doer. But regardless, the label "fast" was deeply imprinted in the city's memory.

I knew Zhou Zhengtou, having interviewed him several times as a television reporter. He spoke quickly, his speech like a machine gun, as if every second was consuming his precious energy. He liked to use words such as "urgency" and "sense of responsibility," as if his life were an unending race.

In one interview, I asked him why he always ran so fast. He stopped, wiped the sweat from his brow, and pointed to the city planning map, saying, "Time waits for no one. If development slows down, we will be left behind by the times." His tone was firm, his eyes filled with a desire for the future.

At the time, I was inspired by his passion, believing him to be a truly ambitious leader. That is, until one day, I inadvertently saw a document. It was Zhou Zhengtou's speech transcript from a meeting, filled with words such as "acceleration," "efficiency," and "leapfrog development." The only thing missing was "the people."

On the day of his downfall, I saw Zhou Zhengtou again. He sat in the interrogation room, his hair somewhat disheveled, his face filled with weariness. He no longer strode briskly like before, but was slightly hunched over, like a machine that had lost its spring.

"Why did you run so fast?" I asked him, my voice soft, as if afraid to startle him.

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with confusion. "I... I don't know either. I just felt like I had to run, had to run faster."

"Did you outrun time?" I asked again.

He was silent for a long time, then shook his head, a wry smile appearing on his lips. "I... I ran in the wrong direction."

After the interrogation, Zhou Zhengtou was taken away. I watched his back and recalled his image, standing in front of the city planning map, full of pride and vitality. He ran very fast, but in the end, he was consumed by the very thing he pursued.

A few days later, I returned to his office, looking at the huge city planning map. The places circled in red marker now seemed incredibly ironic. I suddenly realized that the red circles on the map looked like traps, and Zhou Zhengtou, like a rat trapped in a maze, was running frantically to escape an invisible cage.

I think maybe he wasn't the fastest mayor, but the most tired, the most lost mayor. He won the speed race, but lost the direction. He didn't run towards the future, but towards the abyss.

And this city, after a brief period of noise, returned to calm, as if nothing had ever happened. Only the forgotten meeting speech, still lying quietly in the corner of the archives, tells a story about "running the fastest," and a tragedy about "running in the wrong direction."