Zhao Lingcheng found it incredible—a simple idea he never would have dreamed of.
Of course, he also wondered where Xu Cigang had hidden the embezzled items.
Chen Mianmian felt it strange, “Are you worried I’ll lose the baby halfway and want to take the mats?”
Zhao Lingcheng took out a rope to tie the things up and said, “I heard you reported Jiang Xia for colluding with spies and that she’s under investigation?”
Actually, if Chen Mianmian had told Jiang Xia privately ahead of time, Jiang Xia would have burned the letters and kept her mouth shut.
Later people wouldn’t understand, but until this year, everyone thought nuclear war was about to break out.
Military bases would be the first nuclear targets.
Anyone involved in espionage there was digging their own grave.
But Jiang Xia was too loose-lipped, so Chen Mianmian set a trap.
Zhao Lingcheng’s relative was caught because of her.
Logically, Chen Mianmian shouldn’t admit it.
She had a reckless bravery but was afraid of Zhao Lingcheng.
Yet today she not only admitted it, she looked gleeful: “Yeah, that was me. I also heard she might be sent to labor reform.”
Zhao Lingcheng frowned but said nothing.
Just as he finished packing, he heard Jiang Xia calling outside the window, “Lingcheng, are you there?”
He grabbed his luggage, went out, handed it to the orderly, and asked Jiang Xia, “Where was she sent?”
Quancheng was still a decent place for labor reform; Haidong, Haixi, Yumen, Guazhou were true wastelands, barren and lifeless.
But being sent to the Base was the lightest punishment.
Severe cases went to the Military Tribunal.
Though Chen Mianmian set the trap, Jiang Xia bore the main responsibility.
As a military family member with a position and a martyr’s widow, she was too careless.
Jiang Xia glanced at Chen Mianmian and said, “Someone advised the leadership not to send her far away but keep her on our farm.”
Zhao Lingcheng was surprised, asking, “Who gave that advice?”
It was clever.
The Base’s farm had just been established and could fulfill labor reform duties.
This plan complied with policies and didn’t cause delays.
A small matter, but very clever.
Zhao Lingcheng naturally wanted to know who was smart enough to come up with this.
Jiang De said it was Chen Mianmian’s idea.
But Jiang Xia still wouldn’t say her name, only handing Zhao Lingcheng two large steamed buns, “Take these as rations, but don’t pack them. Keep them exposed so they get crispy.”
Like a soccer-ball-sized blossoming bun, it tastes best after cooling because it crisps and crumbles.
Chef Jiang was about to be sent to labor reform but still had to steam buns because she was the only one in the Base who could make blossoming buns.
As she was about to leave, Chen Mianmian loudly asked, “Aunt Jiang, why don’t you say who gave leadership the idea to keep you?”
Jiang Xia acted deaf and quickly ran away.
When they left the family housing area, the orderly had already loaded the luggage onto the car.
It was a small car, a convertible, though an old one with paint almost peeling off.
It was kind of funny—on the flashy convertible, Zhao Lingcheng carried two huge white steamed buns tied with hemp rope.
Chen Mianmian held a jar of Sweet Fermented Grain and two handfuls of little oilseed rape.
At the station, the orderly still sent the luggage for inspection.
The two boarded the train, heading for the sleeper carriage.
Zhao Lingcheng hadn’t had breakfast. On board, he ordered a cup of bean milk, tore half a bun, eating and drinking anxiously.
Chen Mianmian guessed he was still angry about Jiang Xia, so she explained the situation, knowing he hoped Niuniu could stay in the Base when young and wouldn’t get bullied because of a bad reputation.
She began, “Aunt Jiang…”
Zhao Lingcheng immediately interrupted, “She hates you and your child. She hopes Miao Miao…”
Chen Mianmian snapped, clutching her belly, “Your daughter’s name is Niuniu…”
He wanted a child, but hadn’t even remembered the name until now.
Zhao Lingcheng said, “Jiang Xia hates you, so naturally she hates your Niuniu. She’s ignorant and prefers lies. She deserves a lesson.”
Chen Mianmian was curious, “How do you know she hates my child?”
Zhao Lingcheng was almost cruelly clear-eyed, “When a person hates a woman, they hate her child too. Biologically, a child isn’t the father’s but the mother’s flesh and blood, the bloodline’s continuation.
Like Zhao Jun, he detested Zhao Lingcheng because he was born to a female spy.
If he weren’t the last surviving son with strong abilities, the old grandfather wouldn’t have risked everything to protect him.”
Zhao Lingcheng changed the subject—or rather, took a high-handed tone—and pulled out the notebook, “Your translation draft?”
He shook it, adding, “You’ve always been a farmer, and in recent years you must have encountered some imported pesticides. It’s normal for you to translate their names.
But Xiao Chen, I’ve corrected all those pesticide names; I know them by heart and can recite them now.
I hope your translation work stops at the farm.”
The pesticides imported via Cuba were actually all produced by America—herbicides, insecticides, root fertilizers.
Because he had corrected the versions, he thought the answers were in the notebook.
Chen Mianmian patiently said, “I suggest you look before you judge.”
She added, “Just take a look, and you’ll understand why I’m so good.”
Even the Steel Plant’s Old General Yan praised her translations because she was skilled.
But it wasn’t only her own level—she originally only knew foreign languages.
As a secondary female lead rooted in the countryside, with over ten years of farming experience, she was part of the masses and knew how to interact with them.
Standing on the shoulders of others, using their experience, she could do well.
Zhao Lingcheng’s prejudice against her was normal, but now he was too arrogant, which made her angry.
Just as Zhao Lingcheng was about to speak, a loud voice interrupted, “Chief Engineer Zhao!”
They looked up together as a man rushed over, “I waited for you all night yesterday. They said you had no time. Oh, what a coincidence meeting you on the train. Help me quick…isn’t that Xiao Chen?”
Chen Mianmian stood and greeted, “Old General Yan, good to see you.”
It was a surprise.
The visitor was the Steel Plant’s Old General Yan.
He knew about Chen Mianmian’s translation work and was key to getting Wu Jingjing transferred to the Steel Plant.
Chen Mianmian grabbed Old General Yan’s rough hands, asking, “Did you get my letter? Have you paid attention to my classmate?”
Old General Yan smiled, “Xiao Jinjin, it should be any day now.”
Chen Mianmian still had to go to the State Guesthouse to find Wu Jingjing.
But Old General Yan suddenly said, “So Zhao Engineer, it’s you who left poor Xiao Chen alone in a cheap inn with that little brat. Oh my, the little tadpole suffered so much trying to find his dad.
So not only does the Ministry of Public Security Special Commissioner know, but the Steel Plant General Manager also knows you abandoned your wife and child?”
Zhao Lingcheng glanced back at his ex-wife, his eyes about to pop out.
Chen Mianmian should have felt embarrassed, but because of her ex-husband’s arrogance, she didn’t care.
She just said he abandoned wife and child and let him deal with it.
Zhao Lingcheng gritted his teeth, “We’re about to register our marriage.”
Old General Yan nodded, then said, “Zhao Engineer, you have ability and pride, I get that. But your wife is outstanding—her translations are clear and simple, easy to understand.
Across the country, only you are better than her.”
Zhao Lingcheng still held the notebook.
Clear and simple?
Easy to understand?
Old General Yan, are you sure?
Seeing his ex-wife so proud, he took a deep breath and patiently asked, “What do you need?”
Since it was the sleeper car, everyone was sitting.
Old General Yan sat next to Chen Mianmian.
He said, “Our cutting engineer is crazy. He wrote nonsense letters and got sent away, but no one else has his skills. Our production speed is snail-like. Leadership asked me to find solutions. Thanks to Xiao Chen, I found one. The imperialists’ laser cutting technique is especially effective, and Shencheng’s Research Institute is developing it. We’ll soon get it and apply it to production.”
He added, “But our steel quality often fails standards and gets rejected by the military factory. Could you take a look when you have time?”
Zhao Lingcheng glanced at the pile of documents, wanting to complain.
Books and paper are sacred, but these steel guys barely know characters.
Their files were full of scribbles, random marks, even pinyin annotations.
Seeing it made him furious.
Though still angry at his ex-wife, he said, “Let the pregnant woman rest. Let’s go next door.”
He told Chen Mianmian, “You sleep first. I’ll call you when it’s time to get off.”
Old General Yan, a veteran who had transferred to civilian work, spoke bluntly, “That’s right. Xiao Chen’s a bit thin and dark, so she doesn’t match Zhao Engineer’s looks.
But she’s highly educated and can bear you a big, strong boy. She deserves to be treated well.”
Chen Mianmian couldn’t stand that and said, “I had a dream about the fetus. I’m having a daughter.”
Old General Yan was stunned, then laughed, “Personally, I love daughters more too, hahaha.”
With foreign language and expert talent dwindling, everyone else was a donkey doing eight jobs.
And Old General Yan and Zhao Lingcheng both wondered if he was crazy.
The term “laser” was a special name decided by veteran experts—words with beautiful meaning.
But Old General Yan thought it was lame and said, “The imperialists call it laser—too petty. How about we rename it Gouguang? I think ‘gou’ sounds more imposing than ‘ji.’ What do you think?”
He even marked pinyin on every stroke of the character “ji,” showing how few characters he knew.
Changing “laser” to “dog light”—only he could think of that.
That finished him off. Only twenty minutes left before getting off, and Zhao Lingcheng stood, “Goodbye!”
Old General Yan squeezed his hand painfully, “If policy allows, I hope Xiao Chen can help me with translations. She’s Red Five Categories, a poor masses member—not like those nagging Red Egg Professors. She understands me, understands the poor masses.”
Zhao Lingcheng hated those people because they were unhygienic.
Old General Yan had big yellow teeth and didn’t smoke around Zhao Lingcheng, but his crusty eyes made him nauseous.
He disliked interacting with them and wanted to avoid trouble, so he said officially, “You submit an application to the Ministry of Public Security and the military district for review. If they agree and Xiao Chen consents, fine. I won’t interfere.”
Old General Yan smiled and glanced at Chen Mianmian next door, smiling and sighing, “She’s both red and expert, our people’s poor masses’ translator. A good comrade, truly a good comrade.”
Zhao Lingcheng couldn’t stand his old smoker’s tone and nearly kicked him out, “Goodbye!”
The pregnant woman was sleeping, lying on her side, one hand supporting her round belly.
In just ten days, her complexion improved from waxy yellow to a healthy earthy tone—the typical Northwest look due to lack of vegetables and vitamins.
Her belly was rapidly growing; at seven and a half months, the baby was viable.
Zhao Lingcheng still doubted if it really was a daughter, a genius girl like the old grandfather’s sister.
But whether or not, little Miao Miao—no, Niuniu—was truly amazing.
She stayed steady inside Chen Jinhui’s cruel beatings, safely in her mother’s womb.
Zhao Lingcheng looked at his ex-wife for a moment, asked the train attendant for a cup of bean milk, and added a vitamin C.
His plan was to accompany his ex-wife to the Civil Affairs Section to remarry, then stay a night in Quancheng.
Lin Yan would be released from the Detention Center tonight but would still attempt to block the railway.
Tomorrow morning, Zhao Lingcheng would go to the Railway Section to collect the body and oversee the cremation.
Lin Yan had long told him how he wanted to die.
He said, “Let the train wheels carry my blood across this land. When I’m free of hunger and fatigue, let me listen to the clatter of the train as it travels across mountains and rivers, so vast and magnificent. That’s always been my wish.”
Work was bearable, but hunger was hard to endure.
His heart was always hungry, unable to die, forever starving.
That was why death was a relief.
But not now. Zhao Lingcheng’s first stop would be the Detention Center to persuade Lin Yan to live.
To live until the shadow of war no longer hung over them.
To live until he could ride a train and see the mountains and rivers with his own eyes.
Zhao Lingcheng should also wake his ex-wife to discuss the Xu Cigang problem.
Xu Cigang was only 23, still a kid, but had been a militia member since 15—eight full years.
When the Rightists came, each brought big bundles with many treasures.
If Xu Cigang was as ruthless as Xu Cigang, he could have embezzled a lot.
But where did he hide those things?
Chen Mianmian might not know the exact location and would need to look.
If she knew, she would have reported Xu Cigang before returning to the Base.
But how to find him?
Who to see first?
Zhao Lingcheng wanted to discuss it to help and cooperate with her.
But seeing her sleep so soundly, he didn’t wake her.
Finally having time, he officially opened the notebook to look at his ex-wife’s translation draft.
Only after seeing her translation did Zhao Lingcheng understand why Old General Yan thought “laser” translation was bad and wanted to call it “dog light.”
At first, Chen Mianmian didn’t translate it as “laser” but as “chicken light!”
Later she probably added the pinyin “ji,” so Old General Yan combined “chicken” and “laser” as relatives.
She did translate pesticides, but it was completely different from what Zhao Lingcheng had imagined—no traditional translations.
He was stunned because for herbicides she wrote: X Grass, 3 pingai.
For insecticides: X Insect, 2 bottle caps.
For killing large furry soft-bodied animals, she wrote: X Haha, apply momo.
Meaning it was to kill Xiaxia and had to be applied on the mantou.
For fertilizer, she wrote: V Root, v Leaf, plus some pinyin and characters.
Basically, anyone who had attended literacy classes could understand how to operate it, and they could also learn some characters.
Originally, pesticide translations were done by old professors, full of chemical names and obscure characters, with dosages in milliliters.
But Chen Mianmian changed it to “bottle caps,” with one bottle cap standardized as 10 ml.
Holding the notebook, Zhao Lingcheng stared at his ex-wife, speechless.
Truly clear, simple, and easy to understand.
So, she really was red and expert—the people’s translator.