155: Chapter 161 Constitutional Crisis

July. The entire nation was plunged into a constitutional debate.

This was something Chen Yifei had not anticipated.

He had thought it was just a Senate investigation. A power struggle within Washington.

But he was wrong.

Because the Constitution was not just a Washington affair.

The Constitution was every American's business.

The media. From New York to Los Angeles. From Chicago to Houston. Every newspaper, every television network, every podcast—was discussing the same question—

"Can one person hold both local and federal positions simultaneously?"

The supporters—

"Why not? If a person has the ability to do both things well, why should the Constitution be used to restrict him? The Constitution is meant to protect freedom, not restrict it."

The opposition—

"Because power must be divided. One person holding both local and federal power is the concentration of power. This goes against the original intent of the Founding Fathers."

Each side had a mountain of arguments. Each side felt they were right.

The legal community was divided.

Harvard Law School—twelve professors issued a joint statement: "Dual status does not violate the spirit of the Constitution."

Yale Law School—eight professors countered: "The principle of separation of powers in the Constitution is absolute."

Stanford—the two sides were evenly split.

Law schools across the nation were up in arms.

The Old Boys Club was fanning the flames.

Shen Mo's intelligence: "The club spent three million to hire three lobbying firms. The goal is to push public opinion toward 'unconstitutional'."

"They don't just want to win in the Senate. They want the entire society to believe that you are unconstitutional."

"That way, even if the Supreme Court rules in your favor, you will still be someone who is 'technically legal but morally unjust'."

"In Washington, morality is more lethal than the law."

Chen Yifei listened. He knew Shen Mo was right.

Legally, he might win.

But if the entire nation viewed him as someone "exploiting loopholes in the Constitution," he would never be able to hold his head high in Washington.

Public opinion was another kind of Constitution. Harder to rewrite than the one on paper.

Oak City. The people were anxious.

David Parker's report: "Oak City's business confidence index has dropped twelve points. Three companies preparing to move in have officially withdrawn their investment intentions."

"Bank stock prices have fallen another four percent."

"Residents have started hoarding supplies. Bottled water and canned goods in supermarkets have been bought out twice."

Panic. It wasn't fear of him losing. It was fear that if Oak City lost him, everything that had been built with such difficulty might collapse.

When he wasn't there, who was running Oak City? It was the system he built. The people he hired. The rules he set.

If this system were ruled as "unconstitutional management," the entire Oak City might be forced to reorganize.

Reorganization meant uncertainty. Uncertainty meant panic.

Late at night. Chen Yifei sat in his apartment. In front of him were two documents.

One was an amicus curiae brief draft sent by Trump. The legal arguments were solid. The core point: "The Constitution has never prohibited the same person from holding local and federal positions. The 'Incompatibility Clause' only applies within the federal government."

The other was a "worst-case scenario analysis" prepared by Hannah.

"If the Supreme Court rules it unconstitutional, you must resign from your Senate position. Or, give up management rights over Oak City."

"Giving up management rights means all decisions for Oak City must be handed over to an 'independent management team.' You cannot participate in any decision-making."

"You would go from being the creator of Oak City to a mere spectator."

A spectator. He closed his eyes.

Three years. From a ghost town to a city of 820,000 people. From an empty wallet to a daily income of 2.1 million.

From a town with no roads to a city with an airport, a railway, a university, and a hospital. These were things he had built, brick by brick.

If he had to become a spectator, he didn't know if he could accept it. But he knew he had to be prepared to accept it.

Because the law didn't care about feelings. It only looked at rules.

The phone rang again. Not a call. A message. From Lin Weiwei.

It was just one line: "The essence of the Constitution is not restriction. It is protection. Remember that."

He read it three times. The essence of the Constitution—not restriction. It is protection. Protect what? Protect the right of citizens to serve the public.

The Constitution was never meant to stop people from doing things. It was meant to protect those who do things from being harmed by the abuse of power.

If someone is willing to serve both locally and federally, the Constitution should protect that willingness, not punish it.

He stood up. Walked to the window. The Potomac River. The black water surface. The distant lights.

He made a decision. No defense. Go on the offensive.

Not just to have the Supreme Court rule him "not unconstitutional." But to have the Supreme Court redefine "what the Constitution protects."

He picked up Trump's draft. Picked up a pen. On the first page, he wrote a line—

"The Constitution protects the separation of powers and checks and balances—not the way citizens serve the public."

This line would become his weapon in the Supreme Court. Not to defend himself. But to open a path for everyone.