Also, he was starving in the detention center and would probably first visit his eldest sister Chen Huandi’s home.
Eat a good meal, sleep well, then slowly go back home.
Besides, the supporting female character’s secretly stored grain wasn’t at home; only she knew about it.
Chen Mianmian deliberately scared Zhao Lingcheng to change the topic.
Returning to the point, she said, “Chief Engineer Zhao, you shouldn’t be too worried about grain, right?”
Red Flag Reform Farm wasn’t far from Hongqi Canal.
Because it drew fresh water, the cultivable land was huge.
But that brought a problem—the place was especially harsh.
Gradually, rightists who fawned on the militia and tried to grease connections were transferred out.
The old revolutionaries who were stubborn, proud of resisting the Japanese, stayed.
They weren’t afraid of hardship, farming, or whipping—but there was one thing they feared: hunger.
Zhao Lingcheng already had an idea.
He sincerely said, “I’ll give you 200 yuan to buy grain.”
He had taken Chen Mianmian’s 200-yuan deposit.
Not knowing exactly what grain she was hiding, he guessed it was still some dried meat, sorghum, and millet-type coarse grains.
Offering 200 yuan was already a high price.
But he forgot one thing: she had given him a 1,200-yuan IOU, and he accepted it.
He had arrogantly told her, “Now you can only rely on me.”
Now Chen Mianmian had to clear the debt.
Not only had she become smarter while pregnant, her heart had darkened too.
She said, “No, I want to deduct 500 yuan from my debt.”
She added, “The grain really is ordinary, but I stored it with great difficulty. Five hundred yuan isn’t a loss for you.”
Five hundred yuan was nearly two years’ salary for a colonel-level officer—just to write off some dried meat?
But when begging someone, one had to swallow pride.
Zhao Lingcheng readily agreed, “Deal.”
No time to lose, they left after breakfast.
The more Chen Mianmian interacted with Zhao Lingcheng, the more she realized he was really clever.
Two Steel Plant guards were helping fuel and clean his motorcycle in the yard.
He patted one on the shoulder, “Go to the Iron Pipe Bureau. Tell Section Chief Wei that Chen Jinhui’s release doesn’t mean he’s blameless. Our military base expects the Iron Pipe Bureau to deal with him more strictly.”
How to deal with him was their business; the main thing was to keep Chen Jinhui from returning home today.
With just one sentence, he resolved the problem again.
Actually, he was petty and stingy.
Having just been extorted 500 yuan by Chen Mianmian, he quietly bit back.
Helping her onto the motorcycle, he suddenly said, “I heard Wei Cuiyun is an excellent shot.”
Chen Mianmian didn’t humor him, answered frankly, “I’ve heard he’s especially good on horseback—deadly accurate every shot.”
The Northwest horse caravans were historically famous, only eliminated a few years ago.
They rode fast and fought fiercely.
Wei Cuiyun was just like that—skilled both on horseback and with firearms.
But unfortunately, he eventually became corrupt, degenerate, and was publicly executed.
Zhao Lingcheng said again, “You seem to admire him.”
Actually, she still loved Wei Cuiyun.
If it weren’t for the risk of difficult labor, she wouldn’t have returned to Zhao Lingcheng’s side.
Thinking of this, Zhao Lingcheng said, “We won’t change the contract. Whoever files for divorce first gives up custody of Niuniu.”
He firmly said, “I’m indifferent about marriage, so I won’t file for divorce first.”
He hoped she would go back to Wei Cuiyun, then divorce him?
Chen Mianmian was curious about what face and mood Zhao Lingcheng would have when she found a chance to report Wei Cuiyun and send him to prison.
Because it was a paved road in good condition, the forty li trip took just twenty minutes.
But they were supposed to get grain first.
At the fork, Zhao Lingcheng suddenly braked hard.
He shouted to a distance, “You two, come here!”
Two militia in green uniforms carrying rifles were digging a field embankment and catching blind rodents.
Though Zhao Lingcheng was in civilian clothes, his military motorcycle and bright green army pants earned him a salute from the militia.
All military men, big or small, were called ‘commander’ by the militia.
Zhao Lingcheng glanced at the commune, then the reform farm, and asked, “Why aren’t the prisoners working today?”
The fields were full of pulled-out wheat seedlings and knee-high corn.
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