Chapter 253 Martyrs

Shen Cuifen finally breathed a sigh of relief, and her tense shoulders slowly relaxed.

She grabbed her mother's hand tightly, her fingertips slightly cool, her voice a little choked: "Mom, they treated you like that, making you kneel and wipe the floor, forcing you to live in the woodshed... You must feel wronged, don't hold it in, I'll stay with you. We'll never go back."

Zhao Lin didn't cry; instead, he cupped her face in his hands, his eyes shining with an astonishing light.

Her voice was clear and bright, like a mountain stream: "Silly child, do I look sad? Do I look wronged? I'm so happy I could fly!"

As she spoke, she even gently patted her daughter's cheek, "We've finally escaped, we're free! From now on, nobody can control us."

Upon entering the small restaurant, the aroma of oil mixed with the fragrance of scallions wafted over.

Zhao Lin chose a spot near the entrance, with his back to the wall and facing the street, offering a wide view.

As she ate her fried pancake, she would occasionally glance outside, as if she were waiting for someone or observing something.

Now that we're out here, shouldn't we tell Dong Wenxuan?

That cowardly son has never dared to stand up for her all these years, and hasn't even dared to say a word of justice.

Does he... remember?

Have you noticed she's missing?

Will you be so anxious that you'll be running around in circles?

Or will you still feel relieved, feeling like you've finally gotten rid of a burden?

She ate half of her food, then suddenly paused, looked up at Shen Cuifen, and said, "Cuifen, Mom's going to buy a bottle of soda. Wait here for a bit, don't wander off."

Her tone was ordinary, even somewhat kind, but a sharp glint flashed in her eyes.

Shen Cuifen nodded and sat there obediently, still holding her chopsticks in her hand.

But her eyes followed her mother's figure, watching her walk out of the restaurant and cross the road.

She felt uneasy, sensing that something was off about her mother today; she seemed too relaxed and too calm.

Unexpectedly, when Zhao Lin passed by the convenience store, he didn't even go inside or stop walking; he just kept going.

She walked away decisively, her back straight, as if she had planned it all along.

Shen Cuifen panicked, her heart skipped a beat, and she hurriedly pulled out the money, threw it on the table, grabbed her bag, and chased after him.

"Mom! Mom, where are you going?"

She called out softly, but Zhao Lin didn't turn around.

She jogged along, crossing the street corner, her heart pounding.

Looking up, I saw an electronics store with a sparkling clean glass door. Inside, there were color TVs, tape recorders, and rows of electric fans.

Shen Cuifen felt flustered, but her feet unconsciously moved forward.

She pushed open the door, and the bell on the door rang once.

The store was dimly lit, and the air was filled with the plastic smell of new appliances.

She immediately spotted Zhao Lin standing inside the room, his back to the door, clutching a piece of paper in his hand.

Just then, a man came out from the inner room, wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a familiar smile on his face: "Hey, isn't this the auntie from last time? What brings you here?"

The bag in Shen Cuifen's hand fell to the ground with a "thud," making a dull sound.

He froze on the spot, as if struck by lightning.

She stared intently at the man, her throat tightening, unable to utter a single word.

Behind the man, his wife also came out, holding a little girl's hand.

The child was wearing a pink tutu, the hem of which swayed gently with her steps. She wore a pair of sparkly little leather shoes, and her face was beaming with an innocent and carefree smile.

She skipped and jumped, shouting to Zhao Lin, "I'm going to be a big sister! Mommy has a little brother in her tummy! He's kicking me, he's so soft and it's so much fun!"

The sound was clear and crisp, like a silver bell, echoing in the quiet alley.

Shen Cuifen's legs went weak, and she felt as if all her strength had been drained away. She slowly slid down to the ground through the blue glass window, the paint of which was peeling.

Her fingers dug into the cement cracks in the ground, her knuckles turning white, but her eyes were fixed on the man in the white shirt and khaki pants—that familiar yet unfamiliar face, like a dull knife, cutting deep into her heart.

Her throat felt like it was blocked by something, and it took her a long time to manage a trembling sob: "Zhongguo...you're not dead? You're really not dead? Weren't you...weren't you buried in the flood relief martyrs' cemetery a long time ago?"

Zhao Lin forced a smile, but his lips trembled uncontrollably, like a withered leaf swaying in the wind.

Her voice was dry and trembling, each word as if it were being painstakingly dug out from the depths of her heart: "Bian Jiang, do you... do you remember me? Do you recognize me? Look at me, I'm your mother, the one who raised you from childhood... When you were little, you loved eating the scallion pancakes I made, and on rainy days you would always cling to me and refuse to go to school... Don't you remember any of these things?"

Upon hearing this, Bian Jiang's wife's face changed instantly.

She immediately grabbed the little girl's hand tightly and almost dragged her into the house, while constantly whispering to soothe her: "Sweetie, come inside, don't stay here."

Before she could finish speaking, she slammed the tin-framed wooden door shut with a loud bang.

Immediately afterward, she rushed back, grabbed her husband's hand, her fingertips icy cold, and said with surprise and unease, "Auntie, I felt something was off about you last time. You stood at our door for a long time, staring intently... You... do you really know my husband? He's a veteran, his name is Zhou Quanjiang, who are you?"

Zhao Lin covered her mouth, but tears kept rolling down her face through her fingers, dripping onto her clothes and leaving a small, dark wet stain.

She raised her tearful eyes, still staring intently at Bian Jiang, as if trying to suppress all the pain and longing of the past thirty years into that one glance.

With trembling hands, she pulled a crumpled, yellowed piece of paper from the pocket of her inner garment, its edges worn and frayed. As she handed it over, her fingertips trembled uncontrollably: "This is... your martyr's certificate. It was officially issued by the army back then... stamped and photographed... It's you, it's really you."

Bian Jiang was stunned, his eyes suddenly focusing on the paper.

He subconsciously let go of his wife's hand, stepped forward, and snatched the paper in a rush that was almost rough.

He looked down and unfolded the photograph—it showed a young man in a green military uniform, his face still bearing the innocence of youth, his cap badge gleaming, and the words "Certificate of Revolutionary Martyr" clearly stamped on his chest.

The name field clearly displayed three characters: "Dong Wenxuan".

"Dong Wenxuan...this...is me?"

His voice was weak, as if it were drifting from a very far place, and even he himself couldn't believe the truth of his words.

He examined the paper repeatedly, his fingers tracing the indentation of the stamp, the texture so real it was almost suffocating.

"But... my name is Zhou Bianjiang now... I served in the south, and after being discharged, I worked at the municipal sanitation bureau. I got married and had a daughter... are all of these things fake?"

Zhao Lin nodded, tears streaming down her face like broken beads, splashing onto the ground and raising tiny specks of dust.

She choked up as she said, "My child, when you went to fight the flood, it rained heavily for three days and three nights, the river embankment collapsed, and your company went to the rescue..."