Chapter 138 Taking care of you is my duty
Duan Mingxiao flipped through the documents in his hand. After Ji Ruhui left, the young master took out the documents again to look at them.
As Duan Mingxiao sat on the sofa, something suddenly flashed through his mind.
It was a day when it was pouring rain.
Duan Mingxiao drove to Huaishui Village. The only road connecting Huaishui Village to the outside world was not easy to travel; it was all uphill.
It was pouring rain that day. There were mountains all around, and the water on the road was rushing and muddy, looking filthy.
Fortunately, the young master was driving an off-road Hummer, which allowed him to drive normally on the road. If it were a regular sedan, it probably wouldn't have been able to make it up the rushing water.
That day, Duan Mingxiao unexpectedly encountered a man who was stranded on the road.
The man wore black-rimmed glasses, looked disheveled, and was dressed in an old-fashioned dark polo shirt. His clothes were soaked and stuck stickily to his chest and back.
The man in front of me is named He Fan, in his early thirties. He is the new Party Secretary who came to Huai Shui Village a few years ago.
Duan Mingxiao was driving when he happened to encounter He Fan, who was trapped on a small hill due to the torrential rain and rushing water.
He Fan hadn't expected to encounter people from another village during such a severe rainstorm.
Especially the car in front of me, it looks like a ferocious, black beast.
The man inside the car, with his arrogant and unruly demeanor, possessed an extraordinary and noble air; he was simply not someone who would appear in this backward little mountain village.
Duan Mingxiao frowned, his dark, narrow eyes falling on the "ugly duckling" in front of him who was soaked in the rain. The young master raised his eyebrows and spoke to He Fan, who was not far away.
"Hurry up and get in the car."
The rain intensified, thunder roared, and the sky darkened completely.
"You're asking for it."
He Fan was stunned for a moment, not expecting the car to stop in front of him. The boy took off his black-rimmed glasses, wiped the rain off his face with his rough hands, and hurriedly climbed into the car.
He Fan sat in the spacious back seat, not daring to speak to anyone for a while.
Duan Mingxiao dropped the person off at a safe place, ignoring the man's thanks behind him, and sped off towards his destination, thus missing Cong Chun, who was originally going to town to fetch a doctor.
So when he returned, he bumped into Cong Chun, who was soaking wet from his trip to town to fetch a doctor.
In a way, Duan Mingxiao was He Fan's savior.
On a sunny evening.
He Fan looked up at the distinguished young man in front of him, and for some reason, he suddenly felt a little nervous in front of this young man.
He Fan had met many older leaders before, but none of them were as intimidating as the young man in front of him.
He Fan coughed a few times to calm his tone.
"You want to know whose business it is."
Before him stood Duan Mingxiao, his long, straight legs crossed, his thin lips moving as he uttered two words.
He Fan's eyes flashed with surprise, then the man sighed, his tone somewhat heavy.
He Fan had a deep impression of Cong Chun because the child was really pitiful, but at the same time very promising, and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to call him a genius.
It's such a pity...
A vicious fight broke out at the town's brick kiln.
Grandpa Cong was beaten to death at the brick kiln.
The reason was simply a verbal argument.
He Fan glanced at Grandpa Cong from afar; at that time, he had only been in this small village for a short time.
In his memory, Grandpa Cong was simple and warm-hearted. When he saw this unfamiliar face, he took the initiative to greet him.
Seeing that his face was covered in sweat, Grandpa Cong even invited him to his home for a drink of water.
However, He Fan never expected to see Grandpa Cong again.
It turned out to be such a scene.
The old man lay on a simple bamboo stretcher, having been transported out of the brick kiln. His face was pale and his limbs were stiff.
The old man was like a cicada on its deathbed; his wings began to change color, turning withered and fragile, devoid of any vitality.
He Fan's legs were frozen in place.
Nobody knows what just happened at the brick kiln.
Many people came to the village, and He Fan, who had just arrived, didn't know what was going on.
Later, after he calmed down, he intermittently asked some villagers from Huaishui Village who worked in the brick kiln.
From the few words spoken by those people, He Fan vaguely learned some fragments of the story and the truth of the matter.
My grandfather got into a conflict with a worker who had worked at the factory for many years. That worker happened to be on good terms with the leaders of the brick kiln.
As a result of deliberate retaliation, Grandpa Cong's salary was deliberately withheld.
When the old man learned the reason for the wage deduction, he was furious, because this wage was his life-saving money.
Grandma Wen suffered from lower abdominal pain that year and couldn't sleep well all night. After going to the county hospital for a checkup, she found that she had a fibroid in her uterus and needed to have surgery urgently.
So Grandpa Cong went to the leaders of the brick kiln to demand an explanation.
Unexpectedly, he was greeted by several young and strong male workers who, having accepted the bribe, surrounded Old Master Cong and prepared to teach him a lesson.
The male workers hadn't expected that the other party would dare to resist.
Several people surrounded Grandpa Cong, originally intending only to teach him a lesson, but they "accidentally" went too far.
A group of people were carrying brooms, and some were even carrying shovels.
At that moment, Cong Chun immediately ran over and shielded the old man. The sharp shovel fell on Cong Chun's thin back, causing him excruciating pain.
Blood was everywhere, soaking his back in a crimson stain, mixed with filthy black dust, as it fell to the ground.
Cong Chun took a blow for his grandfather, leaving a scar on his back that will never disappear.
However, he still did not change the predetermined outcome.
Enduring the pain in his back, Cong Chun slowly woke up after a while.
But they discovered that their grandfather was no longer alive.
Cong Chun lay sprawled on the filthy ground, covered in dirt and grime, enduring the excruciating pain in his back. The wounds on his back had not yet scabbed over. The boy stood up and walked home, his legs trembling.
Then there was the scene that many people in the village witnessed later.
He Fan was among them; he wanted to help, but he was powerless to do so.
That group had too much power, while he was just a newly arrived village secretary in Huai Shui Village, and an outsider at that.
The endless field ridges were desolate in the depths of winter.
Cong Chun chased after the old van in front of him. The back door was teetering on the verge of falling off, and his grandfather was inside.
Cong Chun had no idea where the old van was headed.
He endured the pain in his back as he chased after the van, ignoring the pain of his back wound reopening after the scab had formed.
The boy, fighting back tears and with cold sweat beading on his forehead, started running after the van, stumbling and staggering like a child who had just learned to walk.
The surroundings were empty; although there were people all around, it looked deserted.
"Master...Master, don't go..."
The boy's tone was somewhat mournful, and he seemed to be in great pain.
Until the old van disappeared from Cong Chun's sight, all around was silent, not even the wind could move.
Not far away, billowing black smoke still obscured the sky.
All around were vast fields, with only the occasional cawing of crows.
All Cong Chun could see were the layers upon layers of mountains; he could no longer see where his grandfather had gone.
"grandfather…"
Cong Chun stood there dumbfounded.
He really has nothing left now.
Grandpa was sent to the furnace, the furnace where he burned was called the crematorium.
Moments later, thick smoke billowed and mingled with the lowly coal piles.
A week later, the brick kiln caught fire.
The losses were devastating; a junior manager and several male employees inside were burned to death.
Outside the window, the sun shines brightly and the trees are lush and green, but inside it is cold and damp.
Inside the private lounge, the devil whispered.
Mom, I love you so much.
A hoarse male voice came from behind him. Cong Chun lay face down on the floor, his forehead hitting the floor, his head spinning.
Before Cong Chun could react, a long, strong hand gripped the boy's slender neck tightly in its palm, as if he were wearing a collar.
A huge hand pressed down on Cong Chun's most vulnerable throat, while another hand gently stroked Cong Chun's back.
A deep male voice sounded again behind Cong Chun, causing the boy to tremble slightly.
"Cong Chun, Mom loves you, do you know that?"
Cong Chun pursed her lips. The man behind her was wearing a black mask and hat, and even his tone of voice sounded strange.
"Who are you?"
Just as Cong Chun was preparing to counterattack.
Immediately afterwards, a shout came from the doorway.
Lu Tinglan's face was horribly pale, and the veins on his neck were bulging.
"Let him go."
The man wearing a black mask and hat gave Lu Tinglan a deep look, then released her hand and quickly left through the window.
Lu Tinglan quickly stepped forward and hugged Cong Chun in his arms.
Cong Chun is sick and feels a little dizzy. Who was that strange man just now, and why did he mention his mother?
Immediately afterwards, he heard Lu Tinglan's deep voice, mostly the same as before, an apology.
However, the man also told a story that instantly brought Cong Chun to his senses.
Sixteen years ago, Lu Tinglan, who was young and sickly, underwent heart surgery.
A life-saving surgery, and the donor of the heart organ was none other than Chun's mother, Yi Yun.
It turns out that his mother didn't abandon him that year.
Instead, she went to a big city alone for treatment, but unfortunately, she did not survive.
Even before she left, she only left one sentence.
Only the Lu family knew this.
That is, I hope Congchun grows up healthy and safe.
Cong Chun hugged Lu Tinglan.
He cried so hard, as if by doing so he could hear his mother's heartbeat.
Mom, I wish you had left me to find your own happiness.
Lu Tinglan hugged him, and the man lowered his gaze, his tone becoming gentle.
The man was like a gentle breeze, embracing and forgiving, holding Cong Chun tightly in his arms.
"Your aunt said she hopes you will live a good life."
"She asked the Lu family to take care of you."
Let the Lu family take care of you.
Just like a husband, he has an innate obligation to take care of his wife.
And I, Lu Tinglan, am born with the obligation to take care of you.
"Xiaochun, I'm sorry."
"Please give me another chance."
"I know I was wrong."
"Xiaochun, I will be good to you from now on."
The man's gentle tone had just finished.
Duan Mingxiao stood at the door, the young master's face gloomy.
He was about to lose his temper, but when he saw the injury on Cong Chun's forehead, he forced himself to hold it in.
Duan Mingxiao stepped forward and snatched Cong Chun from the man's hands, his tone softening as he questioned her.
"Does it hurt a lot?"
"I'll take you to the hospital to get it checked out."
Cong Chun hugged him, her embrace filled with trust.
"Duan Mingxiao, I want to go home and sleep now."
Duan Mingxiao nodded.
He carried the boy on his back.
[Go back and massage Chun Chun's forehead, then call a family doctor.]
This young master will investigate what exactly happened.
Young Master Duan treated him like he was invisible.
Lu Tinglan didn't say anything, but looked at the empty space in his arms, his eyes darkening.
It's okay, take your time.
The next afternoon, Cong Chun went to class as usual and ran into Mo Xizhi.
Mo Xizhi held Cong Chun's strawberry pot in his arms. The soil that was originally bare had sprouted small strawberry seedlings, which looked full of life.
A hint of surprise flashed in Cong Chun's eyes as he took the strawberry bowl from Mo Xizhi's hand.
Upon closer inspection, the boy's forehead was bandaged.
He looked completely dazed.
Mo Xizhi saw Cong Chun looking up at him and suddenly asked.
"Does the wound on your forehead still hurt?"
The boy's eyelashes fluttered slightly, like butterfly wings.
He spoke softly.
"It's okay, it doesn't hurt anymore."
Cong Chun smiled at him.
"Thank you."
In short, no matter what, Cong Chun was very happy, even though the strawberries in front of him were not the variety he had bought.
However, holding the flowerpot in front of him, Cong Chun felt his heart was heavy.
Immediately afterwards, Mo Xizhi suddenly spoke, his tone somewhat gentle.
Are you free tonight?
"I'd like to invite you to my home for dinner."
On the other side, at the gate of Yenching University, a dark-skinned, muscular man suddenly appeared.
That day, after Cong Chun and Duan Mingxiao left Huai Shui Village.
Chen Weisheng went to Cong Chun's house again, but he did not see Cong Chun again.
Later, by chance, the daughter of the owner of their brick kiln was also studying in Jinghai City.
The boss's daughter, I heard, is a college student, and Chen Weisheng accidentally saw her photo on someone else's phone.
She's alright looking, just the average woman's appearance, neither fat nor thin.
Chen Weisheng followed his superiors to Jinghai City. He contacted Cong Chun's uncle, Yi Longtian, but unexpectedly learned something that shocked him.
Cong Chun didn't end up working in the city; instead, he got into the best university in China.
Chen Weisheng was filled with disbelief. Although Cong Chun had good grades in school, how could he possibly get into such a good university?
Moreover, Cong Chun didn't tell them.
The man stood at the gate of Yenching University, watching the people coming and going, dressed in smart clothes, with all kinds of luxury cars parked at the gate.
Immediately afterwards, Chen Weisheng arrived at the security booth.
"I'm looking for someone."
Security guard Lao Mo looked at the boy in front of him with a hint of doubt in his voice.
Chen Weisheng swallowed hard, his tone somewhat subdued.
“I am Cong Chun’s friend, and I have come to see him.”
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