Chapter 28 I Steal the Household Registration Booklet and Marry You
It’s a pity that Meng Weishen and his manager are both scum among Tsinghua people, and they have not passed on any spirit of mutual help.
The next day was also a working day, and the two met in the tea room.
The other person was drinking the company's free coffee. Meng Weishen politely reminded him that cockroach carcasses had been found in the coffee machine, and to save money, it was better to drink the 9.9 yuan Luckin Coffee downstairs.
Lin Zhesi choked on the first sip of coffee, poured most of the remaining cup into Shui Chi, and walked away with a sullen face.
Apart from that, the two had no communication at all.
Lin Zhesi continued to summon colleagues into the office for reports and talks, but bypassed Meng Weishen.
It was also good for Meng Weishen to continue to be an invisible person in the group. He could save social costs and concentrate on fighting code bugs, with only the clicking sound of typing on the keyboard.
On the day Meng Weishen delivered his work results, the guy sitting next to him offered to give him a keyboard.
Made of aluminum alloy, it's painted a delicate silver shimmer, with a mirrored nameplate on the back. Just by placing it on his desk, he could tell from the deep, resonant sound that it weighed heavily. His handful of plastic trash gave up immediately.
The guy at the desk in front of me has a dedicated keyboard storage corner, filled with seven or eight aluminum keyboards, all custom-made, rare editions. He's afraid of scratching or chipping the paint, so he never lets anyone touch them, let alone lend them out.
Meng Weishen didn't think twice: "It's rare, Gavin, are you going to quit keyboarding?"
"No." The guy at the front desk said woodenly, "I'm quitting."
I'd been vaccinated so many times before that when the disaster finally struck, I seemed to have developed an immunity. I couldn't panic, I was just numb. Meng Weishen paused for a moment, "You're not taking your babies with you?"
"It's too heavy. I'm too lazy to take it with me. I'll leave it to you as a souvenir."
That night, the guy at the front table invited several colleagues who had joined the company at the same time to have a barbecue together. Meng Weishen, who rarely had to work overtime, also went to see them off.
To be honest, Meng Weishen's relationship with his deskmate was rather tenuous. Although they had survived their internship together and had both been promoted, he disliked his partner's strong body odor, while he was jealous of Kuang Jia's appreciation for him. As a result, they rarely spoke privately.
When it really came time to say goodbye, he felt a sense of pity for the other party and stayed with her for drinks until the very end.
The guy at the table in front of me downed a few pints of alcohol, drank silently at first, then reminisced about his three years at the big company, finally choking back tears as he spoke of a family funeral. The other colleagues tacitly acted as the mood-setter, believing that whatever they heard would be remembered only today and forgotten tomorrow.
As expected, that night ended with the desk mate kowtow and banging his head against the table.
A puddle of unconscious mud would simply sink unconsciously, making it harder to handle than carrying a refrigerator. Fortunately, Meng Weishen had anticipated the man's potential for alcohol. He'd prepared to help call a cab, barely touching the drink. With some effort, he pulled the mud away from the table, dragged it to the side of the road, and found a telephone pole for him to use as a support.
The mud was sticky and stuck to the electric poles, as if after the big factory's dream was shattered, it had fallen into a new dream.
Since the other party was relatively honest, Meng Weishen also concentrated on waiting for the online taxi.
Several workers climbed up a street tree, dismantling the festive lights. Yes, Spring Festival has passed, leaving only the most ordinary streetlights, their warm bulbs strung together like a cheap but dazzling jewel necklace.
While he was lost in thought, the guy at the table in front of him had quietly taken out his phone. He had just dialed a number when he started yelling at the screen:
"Lin Zhesi!"
Meng Weishen was startled: "Hey..."
"Lin Zhesi, you're a beast! I've been licking you for over a month, and in the end, you sold me out!"
Meng Weishen tried to wake him up: "Gavin."
"I've seen it all. You leaders all say you want to expand the company's business, but in reality, no matter what business it is, you're just thinking about making money for yourselves!"
"Yu Jiawen!"
"Go ahead and make some money! I'm leaving anyway, so it's none of my business if you bankrupt the company! Damn it..."
Meng Weishen flew over to grab the phone, hung up the call, and stuffed it into his pocket, temporarily depriving the other party of the right to use the phone.
The guy at the front desk finally calmed down, hugged the telephone pole with a thud, and fell asleep close to all the despised psoriasis.
——
"Wesley, the manager wants you to come to the office."
On the Yu day, Meng Weishen had just arrived at the office and had not even had time to open the bag of toast when he had the opportunity to meet Zeus.
From what he could tell, Lin Zhesi wouldn't have any urgent business calling someone to his office. He simply wanted to hear your work report and give you some pressure. So, he remained quite relaxed, tearing off a whole piece of toast before heading to the office.
Surprisingly, Lin Zhesi didn't get angry at his neglect and even left him a cup of coffee. "Wesley, do you want to try it? I bought some pour-over coffee downstairs."
"No need, Manager Lin, do you have something to talk to me about?"
"It's nothing serious, just wanted to chat with you. I haven't really talked to you before." Lin Zhesi crossed his legs, trying to appear casual, and spoke in a chatty tone, "Did you go see Gavin off yesterday? Did you drink too much? You called me so late at night and talked nonsense."
What is he doing? Is the murderer trying to test whether passers-by have seen the bloody incident last night?
From the drunk's fragmentary words, I couldn't deduce much more than that. I only knew that it was about corruption and bribery, which was nothing new. The company's compliance department sent scores of people to the police every year, but corruption persisted.
Meng Weishen himself wasn't interested in delving into deviant matters, nor did he want to get too deeply involved. He managed a brief lie: "I did. But did he call you? I don't know. I left early."
"Maybe I misheard. I thought I heard your voice on the phone." Lin Zhesi pretended to be relaxed. "You're not usually talkative, but I didn't expect you to have such a wide social circle. Are you familiar with Professor Wen?"
"Professor Wen? She's my master's advisor, and we're not very familiar with each other. Our dogs are more familiar with each other." Meng Weishen had already stood up. "Manager Lin, if there's nothing else, I'll leave first."
Lin Zhesi finally started talking to him about work: "By the way, I've looked at your code. You did a good job. It's much better than the garbage Gavin did. Accompany me to meet with the testers next Monday. Please book a meeting room in advance."
Meng Weishen was praised by his leader and smiled as usual: "Just for this? There's no need to call me to the office. I thought you wanted to fire me."
Some people dislike Meng Weishen's way of speaking, thinking he's being sarcastic. But in reality, he doesn't have multiple meanings; he just says whatever comes to mind.
Lin Zhesi also looked embarrassed. "What are you talking about? I'd rather fire you than anyone else. Professor Wen said that we Tsinghua people should help each other."
"Thank you. But there are other Tsinghua people in the group. Do you want to invite them in and have an alumni reunion?"
"You mean Bruce? He got his undergraduate degree from a low-tier 985 university. We're the only two who got our bachelor's and master's degrees at Tsinghua University, and we have the same advisor. From now on, you can call me Senior Brother."
Meng Weishen was not very impressed by this set of righteous master-disciple friendship, "Oh, Huazhong University of Science and Technology can't be considered a low-tier 985 university, right?"
"Speaking of alumni associations, do you know Mr. Zhuge? He also graduated from Tsinghua University. Let's have dinner together someday. You can come with me."
There was only one person in the entire company with such an unpopular surname. But that Zhuge CEO was so senior that he could sit at the same table with the company chairman. Meng Weishen had only heard of him by name, so he couldn't be considered an acquaintance.
He didn't refuse for the time being, "Of course, Senior Brother, but I also have something I want to ask you for help with."
"You tell me first, I'll try my best."
For some reason, Lin Zhesi seemed a little nervous and kept his legs together.
"Can I take half a day off recently?" Meng Weishen showed the other party the ring on his ring finger, "I'm getting married and want to register my marriage."
Lin Zhesi laughed and crossed his legs again. "Do I even need to ask? Of course it's OK. Take a few more days off and use up the statutory marriage leave before coming back."
——
Meng Weishen's progress was much smoother than Jiang Ranxu had imagined. He first secured marriage leave from his manager—a full ten days of vacation. Then, following his advice, he fabricated a company filing and obtained the household registration booklet, which Meng Lirong had mailed, without alerting the suspect.
The program was actually stuck on Jiang Ranxu's own household registration book.
Interestingly, while the same-sex marriage bill doesn't require household registration for registration, all pilot cities have implemented this requirement. This issue is frequently discussed online, with critics arguing that requiring household registration is a tactical requirement for parental consent. Furthermore, critics argue that the older generation, which champions monogamy, will find it difficult to change their views quickly, potentially leading to the bill's demise due to such obstruction.
Jiang Ranxu intentionally filled his days and nights with work, giving himself an excuse to delay going home. But as the calendar page turned to the date for his marriage registration appointment, he had to go home to get the documents.
He contacted his mother in advance about the time to go home. Guan Ping repeatedly assured him that his father would be out picking up goods that day and would not meet him, and only then was the time reluctantly confirmed.
But when the appointed time came, his mother turned him away for the second time.
Jiang Ranxu called Guan Ping several times, and the sound of the busy line followed him as he walked from the doorstep to the courtyard.
Today was a rare day free of dust and haze. The square gray eaves of the compound framed a small patch of azure sky, a few pale branches of flowers intruding from the edges. More than a dozen households within the compound shared this small patch of beauty.
Neighbors in the same courtyard were drying their spring clothes in the yard. They looked like the style popular at the beginning of this century, the bold red and black dyes faded with time. The entire alley also remained in the appearance of the beginning of this century.
Finally, a whistling sound resonated with the human scalp, gradually approaching, like an air raid siren or the flapping of airplane wings. A flock of white homing pigeons flew over the low eaves. As a child, he thought pigeons, like bats, could emit ultrasonic waves to locate themselves. Later, when he ran into a homing pigeon breeder, he learned that the sound came from the pigeon whistles wrapped around their tail feathers.
The carrier pigeon also brought news from the mother.
My mother stepped into the courtyard gate with peeling red paint, carrying a few cloth bags with the church name printed on them, and her voice also caught the solemnity of the choir:
"I'm a little late today because I'm helping with Easter preparations. Please understand that time spent on God is a glorious thing."
The religious atmosphere of his home had been lingering around him since he was born, and Jiang Ranxu had long been accustomed to it. "Hurry up and open the door. I'll get my things and leave. You can go back to the church."
His mother's eyes, sunken due to protein loss, brushed across his face without saying a word.
The key unlocked the door, and the twenty-square-meter one-bedroom apartment opened up to him. Because the bungalow faced away from the sun, even during the day, only a vague darkness could be felt. This was a place he would never bring Meng Weishen to. His childhood home.
Jiang Ranxu expertly fumbled for the chandelier switch, its cold, white light illuminating the room. The bungalow had been artificially partitioned into a duplex, the ground floor low and cluttered. Several worn men's clothes lay piled on the fabric sofa, emitting the rancid smell of alcohol and vomit.
Jiang Ranxu felt his stomach twitch and he instinctively moved away from the tumor-like, stinking mass. His words were not very polite: "Mom, when are you planning to get a divorce?"
Guan Ping seemed to be unable to smell the smell and picked up the pile of clothes: "Divorce goes against God's will. We never want to divorce."
“Isn’t God responsible for sending scum to hell?”
"What are you talking about? We are all God's people, including your father. We should respect and love each other."
Ugh. Jiang Ranxu stopped him irritably: "Stop talking, I'm going to vomit too."
Guan Ping shut up just in time. Her thin figure drifted past him, carrying the laundry to the washing machine in the bathroom. The room hadn't become any cleaner; it still stank of mold and mildew, making one suspect that the walls, having endured a century of patchwork, were rotten to the core.
The roar of the washing machine was heard in the house, and Guan Ping's voice was mixed in:
"Jiang Ranxu, what are you going to do with the household registration book?"
He was asking the question knowing the answer. Jiang Ranxu said, "Of course I'm going to get married. Didn't Father Smith tell you?"
"Father Smith said you married a man in the church."
Jiang Ranxu didn't deny it either. "Of course it's with men. I like men. I told you that when I was in college."
The mother finally came out of the bathroom, her expression blank:
"At the time, I thought you were young and ignorant, and not loyal enough to your faith in God, which is why you were tempted by the devil."
"...No demon tempted me. It's been like this since I was born. You might as well understand it this way: having a homosexual child is like having a scumbag spouse; it's all your original sin. Anyway, you're very self-sufficient."
Jiang Ranxu had long since passed the confused and throbbing adolescence, and his sexual orientation was fully formed. He was too lazy to discuss it too much. "Where is my household registration book? I'll go get it myself."
But my mother rushed to the door first, her back pressed against the door panel, her index finger pressed to her lips. She hissed mysteriously, "Listen, your father is back."
Jiang Ranxu's breath hitched as he discerned the sounds outside the door amidst the clatter of the washing machine. Indeed, the sound of footsteps, now deep and now shallow, was gradually approaching the door, but the curtains were drawn tight on the window, obscuring the intruder's face and casting only a rugged shadow.
The contractions in his stomach suddenly intensified, forcing acid to his throat, rising and falling with the frequency of his heartbeat. He knew he was having a stress reaction:
"Didn't you say he wasn't home today? Why? What on earth do you want to do?"
"Jiang Ranxu, my child... the devil has taken over your will, which is why you committed such an evil act of openly blaspheming the church." His mother stroked his sleeve, as if to gently comfort him. "But the priests didn't believe me, so your father and I had to help you exorcise the devil ourselves."
"Are you crazy?"
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