Chapter 117: Chapter 60: 1950s Wife of Chaff and Bran (60)
Lin Jin was implicated in the case involving stolen research from the factoryâs institute. As the primary liaison, she naturally faced wave after wave of interrogations and background checks.
As her husband, Wang Xianbing was still lying in his hospital bed dreaming of a promotion and a raise when he was secretly moved.
A sense of panic rising in his chest, he couldnât help but ask, "Comrades, where are you taking me? My injury isnât that serious. Iâve already had all my checkups. I only need another three or five days in the ward before I can be discharged."
But the men pushing his gurney didnât spare him so much as a glance. Their solemn, ice-cold demeanor was like the factoryâs machinery in the dead of winter, reminding Wang Xianbing of a certain department. His heart leaped into his throat.
He was shoved into a windowless vehicle. After about two hours of jolting and swaying, they arrived in the middle of nowhere.
During the drive, he kept replaying recent events in his mind, but he couldnât think of anything heâd done wrong. Other than swapping shifts twice, investigating whether Chu Shenyu was involved in the factoryâs secret grain hoarding, and protecting public property, there was nothing else.
âOnce he thought it through, Wang Xianbing wasnât afraid anymore. His conduct had been impeccable; he had nothing to fear from a thorough investigation!â
âIn his eyes, this was just Chu Shenyu using his position to get personal revenge.â
âThe thought made him feel like a walking joke, a cuckold.â
âWhat man doesnât care about his reputation?â
He was a college graduate who had worked his way up from the countryside. On the surface, he seemed to be on par with everyone else, but deep down, he carried an insecurity he could never shake. This was especially true given that his wife came from a well-off family, which fostered a twisted feeling in his heart he wasnât even fully aware of.
The incident had only happened a day ago, but in the family courtyard, where gossip was rampant, rumors fermented and spread exponentially. By the time heâd leisurely made his way home that afternoon, he had already overheard whispers that heâd been cuckolded.
âAt a time like this, trust was irrelevant. A lie told often enough becomes the truth. If everyone else believed it, what difference did it make if he did or not?â
If not for his lingering feelings for Lin Jin, not to mention the Lin Familyâs connections and wealth, he would have dragged her to file for divorce already.
A knot of disgust formed in his stomach. Heâd picked up his dinner, gone home, and simply tossed out that he was going on duty. Gritting his teeth, he avoided looking at Lin Jinâs tear-streaked face and ignored his nieceâs endless chatter. He grabbed his clothes and left without taking a single bite.
But as luck would have it, he only had to do two patrols that night, at ten and four. Heâd actually run into a thief stealing grain and was honorably wounded in the process. The stab had been curiously preciseâclose to his heart, but not fatal.
Wang Xianbing was sure that the "Deputy" in his title of Deputy Director would be securely dropped in the next biennial personnel reshuffle. Suddenly, the stab wound felt like a blessing. Even his disgust for Lin Jin lessened considerably.
It was only when he was delivered to a room drenched in red that Wang Xianbing realized things had taken a serious turn.
"Comrades, what is the meaning of this? Canât we discuss this face-to-face? I was just injured protecting the factoryâs public property! You canâtâ" Wang Xianbing clutched his wound and yelled.
But one man simply pointed a gun at him while the other locked the door without a momentâs hesitation.
Defeated, Wang Xianbing collapsed onto the only chair in the room.
A single lightbulb swayed above him, shrouded in red gauze. His entire field of vision was filled with unevenly painted red walls. The streaks of deep and shallow crimson seemed to harbor heinous crimes, or perhaps they were a raging inferno that threatened one moment to drag him into the depths of hell, and the next to toss him into a boiling cauldron...
Wang Xianbing had only been sitting for half an hour, but his entire body was already buzzing with agitation.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep and let his wound heal.
But time crawled by. He drifted in and out of a daze, losing track of how many times heâd fallen asleep. It felt as if the world had become a still photograph, frozen in place before him.
Having to relieve himself in the room was a humiliating embarrassment. The whole space was dim and damp, with not a single vent. The stench of stale smoke and alcohol, steeped into the room over years, clung stubbornly in the air, an ever-present assault on his senses.
The room was also cold. The chill, combined with his roiling emotions, made him need to go more often. The smell only grew more potent and acrid.
By the time the door was opened again, his lips were cracked and dry. His voice was a raw rasp. "You canât do this to me! Itâs inhumane! At least tell me whatâs going on!"
Outside, the sky was bright. The sunlight streamed in, sharp as a blade, making his eyes ache with pain.