And now, the same woman is destroying her by accusing her of being a "spy."
She looked at Wei Zhuolan angrily, with grievance in her eyes:
"I'm not a spy!"
"Qin Ying, if someone reports it, the Propaganda Department must follow the rules. Even if Fu Qixun is here, we still have to go through this process. In short, we can only find out if he's a spy after we investigate!"
Wei Zhuolan leaned close to her ear, his voice filled with temptation:
"Do you want to be checked?"
The high-sounding phrase of "following the rules" isolated all her hopes.
The wind blew up the sand on the edge of the playground, and the gravel hit Qin Ying's hot cheeks like countless tiny needles.
She squinted her eyes and looked at the teaching building in the distance that was blurred by the wind and sand. She felt that her future was like this chaotic sky, and she couldn't tell the direction.
She suddenly realized that she couldn't even die now.
If he dies, it means he committed suicide out of fear of punishment; if he is alive, he will be investigated.
"You came all the way here just to talk about this?"
Qin Ying turned her face away and dug her nails deep into the edge of the guitar case, causing pain in her palms from the scratching of the wood grain.
Wei Zhuolan tugged at his collar and reached out to grab her wrist, but she dodged it violently.
"I'm not just telling you this, but because I'm the only one who can save you."
His voice suddenly rose, his Adam's apple rolled violently twice, and his bony fingers dug deeply into the edge of the briefcase, almost making wrinkles in the leather.
He yanked open the zipper and pulled out the letter with a desperate urge, crumpling the paper.
"My father suppressed the original letter of accusation, but my mother would not let it go."
He slammed the overseas travel approval form on the parallel bars, and the sound made Qin Ying's eardrums tremble:
"Come with me. There's a train to Jiangcheng the day after tomorrow, and from there we can transfer to Xiangdao."
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