The water came from snowmelt in the Qilian Mountains, freezing cold.
If someone fell in, they’d either freeze to death or suffocate in the mud.
To save her, he’d almost died himself, let alone a woman like her.
But no matter how he explained, she insisted he had pushed her in to rape her.
With her two red cheeks and a buzz cut, she actually thought she was beautiful enough for him to want to rape her!
The local Public Security refused to file a case, so Zhao Lingcheng only reported his lost watch.
But if he had hesitated out of fear and not jumped in, grass would already be growing three feet tall on her grave.
Since her ex-husband refused to eat, Chen Mianmian ate by herself.
Buckwheat flour had a muddy taste, so she’d added sugar and let it ferment well, making the pancakes fragrant, soft, and springy.
With the crispy potatoes and savory bacon, she felt she could open a food stall.
About the drowning incident, the supporting character really ought to thank Zhao Lingcheng.
Chen Jinhui was a spoiled fool who didn’t realize how serious the consequences were.
But Xu Cigang knew—he was fully aware that if Zhao Lingcheng didn’t dive in, she would drown in the canal.
Yet he still pushed her in—ruthless and bold.
Later, he would become the director of the Provincial Railway Bureau.
Chen Mianmian readily apologized on behalf of the supporting character, “Sorry, I was too muddle-headed and wrongly accused you.”
She immediately added, “I’ve already reported Xu Cigang to Public Security, and he’s been arrested.”
Zhao Lingcheng said nothing.
The only sound in the room was her crunching her food.
Finally, he asked, “Where’s your coat? Why are you wearing mine?”
Chen Mianmian thought for a moment and realized the wool coat she was wearing was indeed Zhao Lingcheng’s.
It was the one he had Huang Lin buy from the Shencheng Friendship Store—one for each of them.
Hers had been borrowed by Xu Xiaomei, who then claimed she lost it and never returned it.
If she hadn’t worn this one back, it would have ended up on Chen Jinhui.
But if she told the truth, she’d look like an idiot.
Rolling her eyes, Chen Mianmian made something up, “They took it from me!”
Zhao Lingcheng habitually tugged at his shirt collar and took a deep breath.
Finally, he said, “Public Security said you were not only beaten but also forced to take abortion drugs?”
Chen Mianmian stuffed the last bite of pancake into her mouth—she’d worked for her own food and was very satisfied.
She thought for a bit, then put her hands on her hips, “Our baby is super resilient!”
She stuck out her belly and said proudly, “Even though she was almost miscarried, she’s still hanging in there!”
Robbed of her coat, beaten, and force-fed medicine.
So, what exactly had this fool gone through after the divorce?
But Zhao Lingcheng had already tried and deeply understood—he was neither God nor a savior.
Once bitten, twice shy.
He wouldn’t easily get involved in others’ troubles again.
He neither looked at his ex-wife nor her bulging pregnant belly, and only wanted to make one thing clear—he would never remarry.
If the child was his, he’d take full responsibility, but remarriage was out of the question.
But Chen Mianmian had not only drawn up a contract but also had the Medical Record and A-Ultrasound Report ready to convince him.
The negotiation was about to begin, with undercurrents swirling in the air.
But as fate would have it, something unexpected was bound to happen.
Because Chen Mianmian, afraid of a difficult labor, had prayed desperately at many temples in Quancheng.
And after the drowning incident, those prayers were starting to take effect.
Zhao Lingcheng picked up the “Scientific Childbirth Guide” he’d been reading, preparing to formally negotiate, when a loud knocking sounded at the door.
Then came a voice, “Reporting!”
It was the gate guard: “Engineer Zhao, there’s a call for you. It’s the Old General, he says it’s urgent.”
Zhao Lingcheng glanced over, and Chen Mianmian shook her head, “I don’t have Grandpa’s contact information.”
Zhao Lingcheng grabbed his jacket from the wall and went out.
Of course, she didn’t have the Old General’s contact info—the old man traveled all over the country and had no fixed address.
Besides, his heart wasn’t good, and Zhao Hui didn’t dare upset him, so if he called, it had to be for official business.
While Zhao Lingcheng was getting dressed, Chen Mianmian sneaked another look at him.
In the depths of her mind, her ex-husband was just a little white chicken—she was curious how pale he really was.
He was indeed pale. In the windy, sandy desert where everyone was caramel-colored, his skin was even lighter than hers. He must have used sunscreen—what brand was it, so effective?
But judging from his fingers, he did manual labor.
His palms were large, with distinct joints, and each knuckle bore a shiny yellow callus.
He went out to answer the phone, and Chen Mianmian took the chance to wash the dishes.
But just as she entered the kitchen, another gate guard arrived, knocked, and saluted, “The Grand Commander says, if you’re in, please come over too.”
At the gate guard’s booth, Zhao Lingcheng was on the phone.
Judging by the voice, the old man was in a good mood and talking official business.
He said, “Ever since you guys shot down that U2 spy plane last year, the Americans have added another set of electronic jamming systems. They’re flying over the Northwest openly, and that traitor Old Chiang—who knows what he’s plotting?”
“Now that our relationship with the Soviets is tense and the Zhenbao Island conflict is about to break out, he wants to launch a sneak attack and have the Americans strike our nuclear facilities. Not bad, you guys caught them again.”
Zhao Lingcheng replied, “Thanks to the intelligence from the coastal departments. We were just lying in wait.”
The old man laughed, “Old Chiang is still dreaming of his counterattack. Do your best and bring down another U2.”
Zhao Lingcheng’s voice was hoarse, “We’re trying our best.”
The old man laughed again, “You have to hurry, and it has to be your team. Shooting down a U2 on the coast doesn’t count for much, but if you can bring one down over the Northwest desert at twenty thousand meters, that’ll show the world our military prowess and make the Americans wary of us.”
Zhao Lingcheng’s voice remained hoarse, “We will.”
The old man sighed, “What about Lin Yan? I heard the U2 flew over the desert—he must be thrilled.”
Zhao Lingcheng said, “I’m too busy. Haven’t been to the farm in three months. And besides, your comment is biased—I don’t like it.”
The old man sighed, “He’s your uncle. Always stuck at the Labor Reform Farm. I know it bothers you, but there’s nothing I can do about him, let alone you. I heard those Rightists sent down are having a hard time—so many dying from illness or cold. Visit him when you can.”
Thinking the old man was done, Zhao Lingcheng was about to hang up.
But suddenly the old man asked, “Back when you and Little Chen divorced, are you sure it was her who initiated it?”
Zhao Lingcheng paused, “Didn’t you read the marriage report?”
He added, “And I’ve already been disciplined.”
The old man burst out in dialect, “Your scandal of abandoning your wife and child has spread all the way to the Capital, you red egg!”
Zhao Lingcheng’s tone stiffened, “It’s nothing. Why did my aunt have to talk to you about it?”
The old man shot back, “Abandoning wife and child, letting a pregnant woman wander the streets—is that nothing?”
Zhao Lingcheng thought it was Zhao Hui who told him, “My aunt doesn’t know the whole story…”
But the old man roared again, “And Zhao Hui too, covering up for you—both of you are red eggs, big red eggs!”
He panted heavily, “My sons all died heroically in battle, but I’m left with a modern-day Chen Shimei like you!”
Zhao Lingcheng grew concerned, “Is your heart okay?”
He asked again, “Is your orderly, Jiang Uncle, or Jiang Yao there? Do you need first aid?”
But the old man, after catching his breath, roared again, “You—you’re even worse than Chen Shimei…”
Just then, Chen Mianmian was brought over by the gate guard.
She had never met the Zhao family’s Old General, not even over the phone.
She only vaguely heard a sentence and didn’t know exactly what was going on.
But she knew Zhao Lingcheng was already carrying enough blame—she couldn’t let him be branded another Chen Shimei.
So she shouted into the receiver, “Grandpa, I’m fine! Grandpa, Lingcheng isn’t Chen Shimei, either!”
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