In the fiery red era of the heavens, refrigerators are refreshed daily.

Chapter 133, Section 132: Admonitions and Reminders, Questioning by the Workers' Propaganda Team, and the Matter Settled.
The air in the deputy factory director's office was heavy and stagnant in the morning.

Yang Guangming locked the last document he had reviewed into the heavy metal filing cabinet, then straightened up. A soreness came from the back of his neck, so he raised his hand and gently massaged the stiff muscle with his knuckles.

Li Weidong's face, contorted with despair, seemed to still faintly float in the stagnant air, carrying a silent and unsettling aftertaste.

After all, we're colleagues, so we should at least show some concern and care.

He tidied up the enamel pen holder on the table, which had a double happiness symbol printed on it, and put several cheap dip pens and a Hero brand fountain pen back in their places.

He picked up a damp old rag and symbolically wiped it twice on the paint-chipped desk to remove non-existent dust.

After doing all that, he straightened his faded collar, pushed open the door, and went down the stairs.

The door to the secretariat of the factory affairs office on the second floor was open.

When Yang Guangming walked in, the atmosphere inside was even more somber than he had expected, as if the summer heat outside had been kept out, leaving only a heavy, suffocating chill.

Han Mingqian, the director of the factory affairs office, had somehow entered the main office and was now sitting at the empty desk opposite Zhou Bingsheng.

His brows were furrowed, forming a deep "川" shape, and his fingers tapped the table unconsciously, producing a soft, muffled tapping sound, the rhythm conveying an unshakeable restlessness.

Zhou Bingsheng lowered his head, unconsciously fiddling with the corner of the "Reference News" newspaper, which made a soft rustling sound.

Zhang Yuqin stood by the window with her back to everyone, arms crossed, gazing at the gray factory buildings and monotonous chimneys outside. Her back view conveyed a sense of frustration and deep unease, her shoulders slightly slumped.

"Xiao Yang is here?" Zhang Yuqin turned around abruptly upon hearing footsteps.

She forced a smile, a smile that seemed to be etched on, stiff and brief. Her voice had also lost its usual crispness and liveliness, sounding dry and low.

"Sister Zhang." Yang Guangming nodded, a hint of worry naturally appearing on his face. He then turned to the other two, his tone respectful and steady, "Director Han, Master Zhou."

"Hmm." Han Mingqian responded from deep in his throat, as if to say hello. His fingers, which were tapping the table, paused for a moment before continuing.

Zhou Bingsheng also raised his head and nodded slightly to Yang Guangming, still without saying a word. However, behind his thick glasses, his eyes held a complex emotion that was a mixture of fatigue, confusion, and something indescribable.

"We were just talking about Li Weidong." Han Mingqian's deep, hoarse voice broke the brief, suffocating silence.

He raised his eyelids, his gaze sweeping sharply across the three faces, carrying the cold scrutiny and worldly-wise insight of someone long accustomed to power:

"Since Xiaoyang is here, let him listen too. That way, when the workers' propaganda team comes to question you later, you won't give conflicting accounts and cause unnecessary trouble."

Yang Guangming pulled over a wooden chair and sat down, leaning slightly forward and placing his hands naturally on his knees, adopting a posture of focused listening.

His young face showed just the right amount of concern and seriousness: "Director Han, how is Li Weidong doing now? Is there any definite news?"

Han Mingqian sighed heavily, as if the sigh carried a thousand pounds of weight.

He withdrew his fingers from the table, picked up the enamel teacup, blew on the tea leaves floating on it, but didn't drink it. He then put it back in its place, making a slight clinking sound.

"After the person was taken away, the security department interrogated him overnight."

His tone was flat, as if he were stating a fact unrelated to himself, but the look in his eyes behind his glasses was serious:

"At first, he insisted on his innocence, his neck stiff as a steel bar, saying that someone had framed him and set him up! His voice was so loud it could have blown the roof off."

He paused, picked up his teacup, took a sip of strong tea, his Adam's apple bobbing. His gaze, behind his glasses, swept over the three men again, a gaze that seemed to pierce their very souls: "And then..."

Han Mingqian lowered his voice even further, with a hint of ambiguity, "He probably used some tricks... but in the end he couldn't hold on any longer and confessed that he had kept it privately."

Zhang Yuqin couldn't help but click her tongue, her face showing undisguised contempt and a sense of "I knew it" resentment. Her full lips moved as she was about to say something when Han Mingqian raised a thick hand and decisively stopped her.

"I thought they'd admitted it, that it was a done deal." Han Mingqian leaned forward, his voice tinged with disbelief and anger. "But this morning, they went back on their word! It's the same old story, over and over again, that someone framed them! They're just... stubbornly unyielding!"

"Humph!"

Zhang Yuqin finally couldn't hold back any longer. Her voice suddenly rose several decibels, filled with long-suppressed anger, and her slightly chubby cheeks flushed red.

"Unrepentant! He did such a despicable thing himself, and now he's trying to implicate others!"
Director Han, didn't you hear him biting like a mad dog yesterday?
First they tried to pin it on Xiao Yang, then when that failed, they turned on me! They accused me of framing him! It's infuriating to even talk about it!

She became increasingly agitated as she spoke, her chest heaving violently, her fingers almost jabbing against the table:
"He should take a good look at himself! In the office, he's always so arrogant, he can't stand seeing others do better than him! He's incredibly jealous!"

When Xiao Yang first came, he was such a diligent young man, but he was so rude and unreasonable!
Later, when Xiao Yang did a good job and received praise from his superiors, his face turned as long as a horse's! He was always drooping, as if someone owed him eight hundred coins!
They have absolutely no sense of collectivism; all they know is how to scheme for their own benefit! They're busy making a racket, but their minds are entirely focused on crooked paths!
It's not surprising at all that someone like him would do something like this! I think he deserves it! He brought it on himself!

Yang Guangming nodded at the opportune moment, his face showing a mixture of heartache and righteous indignation. His voice was not loud, but every word was clear:

"Sister Zhang is right. Comrade Li Weidong...sigh, indeed, he is a bit too jealous, and his conduct is not...upright enough, and he is too selfish."

Yesterday at the stairwell, their baseless accusations against us, disregarding the facts, were truly chilling and appalling.

This is not only a severe blow to comradeship, but also an extreme betrayal of the organization's trust! It is extremely egregious in nature!

Zhang Yuqin immediately nodded vigorously, as if she had found her most steadfast ally, and said repeatedly:
"That's right! Xiao Yang is absolutely right! Every word he says makes sense! It's not surprising that someone with his character would do something like this! He's rotten to the core!"

However, after venting her anger, Zhang Yuqin looked out the window at the factory buildings that were whitened by the sun and sighed deeply.

Her tone became complicated, carrying a hint of barely perceptible hesitation and confusion, and her voice lowered even further:

"But... to be honest, Director Han, Master Zhou, Xiao Yang."

Her gaze swept across the three faces, seeking validation. "Having worked with him for the past few years, I've always felt... he doesn't seem like the type to hoard things like this."
He was incredibly timid. He only dared to read the Reference News and Liberation Daily when he read newspapers. He wouldn't even touch any slightly sensitive articles, and would just glance at the headlines and quickly turn the page.

When he speaks at meetings, especially when it's slightly policy-related, he always writes a draft on paper and reads it haltingly, afraid of making a single mistake.

Could there be something fishy about this? Is there really someone...?

She hadn't finished speaking, but in her eyes, which were slightly cloudy from years of working at a desk, the lingering doubt was as clear as a fish swimming in a stream.

"Comrade Zhang Yuqin!"

Han Mingqian abruptly interrupted her, his voice rising sharply and becoming unusually stern, like a whip lashing through the stagnant air.

His gaze behind his glasses was sharp as a knife, carrying an undeniable pressure that pierced straight at Zhang Yuqin, causing her to involuntarily shrink her shoulders.

"You are absolutely forbidden from saying such things again!"

Han Mingqian leaned forward slightly, almost reaching over the table, and said, each word like a hammer blow to a chopping board, "Especially outside! Not a single word is allowed to be mentioned!"

His voice wasn't deafening, but it carried a chilling aura that seemed to freeze everything, instantly bringing the air in the entire office to a freezing point.

Even Zhou Bingsheng's hand, which was crunching the newspaper, stopped completely, his wrinkled fingers frozen in place. He slightly raised his eyes and looked at Han Mingqian solemnly through his thick glasses.

Han Mingqian's gaze was fixed on Zhang Yuqin, his tone clear and heavy, almost reprimanding:
"What's suspicious? What's the trap? What's the suspicious part? What's the trap?"
The irrefutable evidence, clear and unmistakable, was found in the tattered faux leather bag that Li Weidong always carried with him!

He himself admitted it in black and white!
Why are you going back on your word now?
That was him clinging to a sliver of hope! It was an attempt to overturn the verdict! It was a classic case of stubborn resistance! It was an attempt to escape responsibility and confuse the public!

He took a deep breath, his chest heaving slightly, and his tone softened a little, but the intensity and urgency of his admonition remained undiminished, instead becoming even more so:
"Li Weidong has problems with his thinking, problems at their core! He has problems with his character, that's an indisputable fact!"
He is extremely jealous, narrow-minded, and cannot stand seeing others do well. He even resorts to the despicable and vile means of falsifying production data to frame his comrades. This is an undeniable fact!

He has brought this upon himself entirely! It is the inevitable result of his long-term neglect of ideological progress and deviation from the organizational line!

Han Mingqian's gaze swept like a searchlight over the silent Yang Guangming and the head-down Zhou Bingsheng, finally settling on Zhang Yuqin's pale face and shifty eyes. His words were earnest and carried an unquestionable commanding tone:
"The workers' propaganda team will definitely come to talk to you guys by the afternoon at the latest, to get a deeper understanding of Li Weidong's usual thoughts and specific behavior."

Listen up, all of you! Remember this: Stance! First and foremost, stance! You must have the right stance! Second and foremost, attitude! You must have the right attitude! This is a matter of principle, and there is no room for ambiguity!

He bent his knuckles and tapped the table heavily, making a dull "thud, thud" sound, emphasizing the weight of each word:
"When faced with inquiries from the workers' propaganda team, we must be clear in our stance and speak with confidence!"
We must condemn Li Weidong's erroneous behavior and the serious harm caused by his negative ideology! We must thoroughly expose his ugly face of individualism, jealousy, and undermining unity!

We must make it clear that our secretariat, and indeed the entire factory affairs office, firmly and resolutely distance ourselves from him!
You must not show the slightest sympathy or pity, and you must not have any speculation that 'he may have been framed' or 'there is something fishy going on'!

You must not have such words or such thoughts even for a moment!
Once this gets out, if someone with ulterior motives seizes on a few words and makes a big deal out of it, they might say at best that your class stance is wavering and your ideological awareness is low, or at worst they might suspect that you have a secret connection with Li Weidong and that you are birds of a feather!
Can you, Zhang Yuqin, shoulder this responsibility? Can your family shoulder it? Hmm?

Zhang Yuqin was so frightened by his harsh words that her face turned pale, her lips trembled, and she stammered a few times, but in the end she didn't dare to utter another word. She just nodded silently and forcefully.

The last vestige of doubt in her eyes, like a candle flickering in the wind, was instantly extinguished and crushed by immense fear, leaving only empty obedience.

Han Mingqian then softened his tone, leaning back slightly, but his expression remained as serious as an iron plate:
"As for Li Weidong's specific behavior, such as being jealous, selfish, lacking a sense of collectivism, not being cooperative, and liking to engage in underhanded tactics, we can just state the facts."

There's no need to embellish or fabricate anything, but there's absolutely no need to cover up or whitewash it!
Let's be honest and straightforward!
This is a matter of principle, a serious matter of upholding one's integrity; it allows no room for personal feelings or carelessness!

His gaze finally settled on Yang Guangming's young yet composed face, carrying a special, elder-like admonition and concern:

"Xiaoyang, you have little experience and haven't been working for long, so you need to be especially careful."

Before the workers' propaganda team finishes taking your statement and asks you to sign it, make sure you read it carefully, word by word!

Be as meticulous as if you were proofreading a document!
Make sure that what's written above is exactly the same as what you said yourself!
If you find any discrepancies in the records, or any ambiguous or leading wording, be sure to point them out on the spot!
Be firm and demand they correct it immediately! Make sure it's correct to your satisfaction, and that every word is accurate before you sign it! Got it?

Han Mingqian emphasized, his eyes sharp, "This matter is no small thing, it's extremely serious and crucial, it concerns your future and your reputation! You absolutely cannot take it lightly, and you absolutely cannot be afraid of trouble!"

Yang Guangming met Han Mingqian's complex gaze, a mixture of concern and sternness, straightened his back, nodded solemnly, and spoke in a clear and firm voice:
"Director Han, please rest assured, I have remembered. I will definitely be truthful and take every issue seriously, and carefully check every record."

Han Mingqian then nodded slightly, his taut jawline seeming to relax a little.

He picked up his teacup and took another sip. His gaze fell on Zhang Yuqin's still somewhat melancholy and shaken expression. Finally, a hint of human warmth appeared in his tone, like a crack in solid ice: "Of course."

He cleared his throat and lowered his voice, "After all, we were colleagues and worked in the same office for several years. In private, I felt sorry for him and felt a bit sorry for him."

I even wanted to help his family as much as I could after things settled down, like sending them food or other necessities. That's only natural, and I don't object. The factory has a similar tradition.”

He then changed the subject, emphasizing again, his tone becoming unquestionable once more:
"However, public and private matters must be clearly distinguished! The boundaries must be clearly drawn! Our stance on the surface must be firm!"
This concerns the reputation and future of each and every one of you in the factory, as well as the prestige and unity of our factory affairs office team! Do you understand? You must always remember this!

"Understood, Director Han." The three responded almost simultaneously, their voices sounding somewhat weak in the heavy air.

Just after three o'clock in the afternoon, the old black rotary dial telephone on the sunny table started ringing.

The monotonous and urgent ringing sounded unusually jarring in the exceptionally quiet office in the afternoon, like an invisible hand suddenly clenching the heart.

Yang Guangming put down his pen, calmly picked up the receiver, and held it to his ear: "Hello, deputy factory director's office." His voice was calm and even.

"Is this Comrade Yang Guangming? This is Lao Zheng from the Workers' Propaganda Team. Please come to the Workers' Propaganda Team office immediately to cooperate with the investigation and evidence collection regarding Li Weidong's case."

The voice on the other end of the phone was businesslike, with a metallic coldness and an unyielding pressure, without any pleasantries.

"Okay, got it. I'll be right there," Yang Guangming replied just as concisely.

The Workers' Propaganda Team's office was located on the westernmost side of the first floor of the factory building.

There was no sign at the entrance, only a slightly mottled wooden door painted dark green.

But the unique solemn and oppressive atmosphere could be clearly felt even through the long, dimly lit corridor, as if the air itself had become thick and heavy.

Yang Guangming walked to the door, stopped, and knocked three times on the door panel, neither too hard nor too soft.

"Come in." A deep and authoritative voice came from inside.

Sunshine Ming pushed open the door and went in.

The room was small and the furnishings were extremely simple, even rudimentary.

An old, dark brown desk, its paint peeling away to reveal the wood grain beneath. Opposite the desk stand two equally worn wooden chairs. Against the wall stand two metal filing cabinets painted military green, their doors tightly shut, like silent sentinels.

On the wall, a huge portrait of the leader hangs high in the center, his gaze piercing, overlooking the entire room.

Several red banners with yellow lettering were pasted nearby: “Continue the struggle and get to the bottom of it” and “Resolutely crack down on all anti-revolutionary elements”. The bright red lettering stood out starkly against the gray wall.

The air was filled with the pungent smell of cheap cigarettes, the musty smell of old paper, and an indescribable odor mixed with tension.

Two people were sitting behind the desk.

A middle-aged man, around forty years old, was wearing an old military uniform that had been washed until it was faded and had some wear on the collar and cuffs. He had a conspicuous red armband on his left arm.

He had a square face, dark skin, tightly pursed lips, and sharp eyes that exuded a seasoned shrewdness and unquestionable authority—clearly the "Old Zheng" from the phone call.

Sitting next to him was a young man in his early twenties, also wearing a red armband, his lips pursed into a straight line, clutching a fountain pen and a brand-new hardcover notebook tightly in his hand, his expression serious, trying to imitate Old Zheng's coldness and hardness, but still revealing a hint of a newcomer's restraint and deliberateness.

"Are you Comrade Yang Guangming? Please have a seat."

The middle-aged man, Lao Zheng, pointed to the chair opposite the desk. His tone was relatively calm, but like water flowing under ice, it had no warmth.

"Thank you, Comrade Zheng." Yang Guangming sat down as instructed, his back naturally straight, his hands resting flat on his knees, and his gaze calmly and openly meeting the scrutinizing eyes of the other party.

"We've called you here mainly to understand, according to organizational procedures, Comrade Li Weidong's usual ideological performance, work style, interpersonal relationships, and some specific circumstances surrounding yesterday's incident."

Old Zheng cut to the chase without any preamble, his words like bullets fired from a gun: "Please answer truthfully, with an attitude of being responsible to the organization, to your comrades, and to yourself. Do not conceal anything, and do not let personal emotions interfere. Understand?" The young man next to him immediately opened his notebook, uncapped his pen, and prepared to take notes, the nib hovering above the paper.

“Okay, Comrade Zheng. I will fully cooperate with the investigation and truthfully reflect what I know.” Yang Guangming’s tone was sincere and his eyes were clear.

The inquiry begins.

The problem is like a precise scalpel, cutting mainly in several key areas:

Li Weidong's usual style of dealing with people, his specific work attitude and performance, and the ideological tendencies he reveals;

Your state in the office before the incident yesterday, and whether you made any unusual words or actions;
And the most crucial and sensitive part—is there a deep-seated conflict between Zhang Yuqin and Li Weidong that could lead to framing? How does Yang Guangming himself view the possibility that Zhang Yuqin might frame Li Weidong?
Following Han Mingqian's instructions, Yang Guangming adopted a clear attitude, a firm stance, and gave a well-organized and forceful answer.

When asked about his opinion on Li Weidong's act of privately possessing and disseminating negative materials, he frowned, his voice filled with deep sorrow and undisguised condemnation:

"Comrade Li Weidong's behavior is extremely egregious in nature and has an extremely serious impact!"
This is by no means a simple personal mistake, but a serious betrayal of organizational principles and a blatant challenge to the cause of destiny!

Such behavior must be dealt with with the most severe punishment and resolutely resisted!
I am extremely indignant and heartbroken by this! I fully understand and firmly support the Workers' Propaganda Team's representative organization in handling this matter seriously!

(Note: Some typos and word choices are necessary corrections to avoid review issues. Please understand. The review criteria are constantly changing; sometimes they are acceptable, and sometimes they are not.)
When discussing Li Weidong's usual performance in the secretariat, his tone shifted to an objective statement, with detailed and well-organized content:

"Comrade Li Weidong has a certain foundation in work ability and is quite proficient in handling daily affairs. However..."

He then changed the subject, his tone becoming serious, “His individualism is quite serious, specifically manifested in his strong jealousy, especially his inability to bear seeing other comrades, particularly young comrades like us who have just started working, achieve results at work and receive recognition from leaders.”

In such situations, his emotional reaction tends to be quite negative.

They also have a weak sense of collectivism and are not very willing to actively participate in group activities, sometimes appearing detached.

There is a lack of teamwork spirit at work; sometimes people only care about their own tasks and appear not to be united enough.

In terms of character...

Yang Guangming paused briefly, seemingly considering his words, "Sometimes I seem less honest and straightforward, and I can be a bit... calculating, and quite concerned about personal gains and losses. My colleagues in the office should all be aware of this."

Regarding whether there was a deep conflict or the possibility of framing between Zhang Yuqin and Li Weidong, Yang Guangming's answer was resolute and unequivocal:
"Based on my observations in the office, there are indeed some minor frictions between Comrade Zhang Yuqin and Comrade Li Weidong in terms of work cooperation, or arguments caused by personality differences."

For example, differing opinions on a certain report format, or disagreements on the wording of a certain notice. But these…

He emphasized, "They are all trivial, very specific little things, just different opinions within the normal scope of work, or personality clashes!"

It absolutely cannot escalate to the point of a life-or-death struggle or the need to frame someone!

To say that Comrade Zhang Yuqin would frame him is utterly absurd and completely unfounded!

Yang Guangming's face showed strong indignation. "Yesterday at the stairwell, when facing the organization's inspection, Comrade Li Weidong disregarded the facts and made baseless accusations against Comrade Zhang Yuqin. He was just desperate!"
This is an extremely irresponsible and insane act! It severely undermines the mutual trust and support among comrades! It is a malicious slander against the unity of the secretariat!
I am utterly shocked, outraged, and deeply saddened by this! It exposes a much deeper problem in his thinking!

His answers were logically clear, his stance was distinct, and his attitude was upright. They were highly consistent with the statements made by Han Mingqian, Zhou Bingsheng, and Zhang Yuqin when they were questioned earlier, forming a tight chain of testimony.

In particular, the thorough refutation of Zhang Yuqin's motives for framing him, and the righteous and emotionally charged argument, made Old Zheng's serious face soften slightly, and he nodded imperceptibly, a hint of agreement flashing in his eyes.

As for whether Yang Guangming himself is a suspect?

This issue has hardly been explored in depth, and it hasn't even been raised as a formal question.

Although Li Weidong later pleaded not guilty under pressure, he did not again implicate Yang Guangming.

More importantly, Yang Guangming had a clear alibi for the incident yesterday.

From morning till night, several colleagues, including Zhang Yuqin and Zhou Bingsheng, can testify that he never entered the secretariat office and therefore never touched Li Weidong's desk or personal belongings.

These have long formed an invisible, seemingly irrefutable firewall.

Before questioning, Lao Zheng and the young man had clearly grasped these key details. Their questions were always focused on Li Weidong's "ideological essence" and eliminating Zhang Yuqin as a suspect.

For Yang Guangming, it was more of a routine matter of confirming details and completing procedures.

The questioning process lasted about half an hour.

Old Zheng asked very detailed questions, each one like laying the foundation for the chain of evidence.

His attitude was not aggressive; in fact, at times it carried a guiding, almost "friendly" calmness. Clearly, he already had a preconceived conclusion, and this questioning seemed more like an attempt to perfect the case file.

The young recorder was completely focused, meticulously taking notes. The pen scratched across the paper with a monotonous, continuous "scratching" sound that was particularly clear in the quiet room.

Finally, the young man put down his pen, pushed the notebook in front of Yang Guangming, and pointed to the blank space at the bottom:
"Comrade Yang Guangming, this is a transcript based on your statement. Please review it carefully and see if there are any inaccuracies, unclear expressions, or discrepancies with your original meaning."
If you have no objections, please sign below to confirm.

His voice carried a hint of nervousness, typical of a newcomer.

Yang Guangming did not forget Han Mingqian's almost stern admonition.

He took the notebook with both hands and examined it very carefully, checking it line by line, his eyes slowly moving between the words, as if he were reading an important document.

The content is indeed what he stated. Although the wording is official and formal, the core meaning is not deviated. No key information has been added or deleted, and there are no potentially ambiguous or misleading words.

He picked up the communal fountain pen on the table, its nib somewhat dry, and dipped it into the red ink bottle on the corner of the table that read "Shanghai Ink Factory," letting the dark red ink soak into the nib.

Then, below the spot indicated by the recorder, he neatly signed his name, stroke by stroke.

The three characters “阳光明” are written with such force and clarity that they seem to penetrate the paper.

"Okay, thank you for your cooperation."

Old Zheng took the notebook, glanced sharply at the signature, softened his tone slightly, but still maintained a distance.

“It’s what I should do, Comrade Zheng.” Yang Guangming stood up, nodded slightly, and turned to leave the office, which was filled with an invisible pressure.

The afternoon sun in the corridor was a bit dazzling, with a scorching temperature.

He stood at the doorway, taking a deep breath without making a sound, his lungs seemingly still carrying the peculiar smell of smoke, mildew, and tension from the Workers' Propaganda Team's office.

He knew in his heart that the moment he signed that name, Li Weidong's fate had been like a stone falling into a deep well, sinking completely into irreversible darkness.

Things unfolded much faster than Yang Guangming had anticipated, as if an invisible hand had pressed the accelerator.

Just one week later, the investigation results and handling decisions regarding Li Weidong's case were officially issued and communicated to the entire factory.

"Dismissed from public office and taken away with their labor."

These eight words, like eight cold lead bullets, pierced the ears and struck the hearts of everyone in the factory affairs office secretariat.

Although it was expected, when the cold verdict was officially read out, the air in the office seemed to be sucked out instantly, bringing a suffocating, deathly silence.

The name Li Weidong, along with all traces of his existence, will be completely erased from the roster, payroll, and daily life of the Hongxing State-owned Cotton Mill.

The dust has settled.

Yang Guangming came to the secretariat's office again. The group chatted, and after Han Mingqian brought up the final verdict again, the atmosphere in the office became extremely subtle.

The initial shock and anger have long since faded with time, leaving behind a complex and indescribable emotion—a sense of lament, a feeling of sympathy for one's kind, a sense of relief at surviving a catastrophe, and a feeling of bewilderment after shedding a heavy burden.

No one spoke; only the monotonous roar of machines outside the window stubbornly filled the silence.

Zhang Yuqin was the first to break the silence.

She sat in her seat, unconsciously twirling a smooth knitting needle in her hand, her gaze fixed blankly on the table. After a long while, she let out a long, deep sigh, a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of her heart, carrying a heavy weariness.
"Sigh... people, they're all gone eventually."

Regardless of what he did or said in the past, it's truly pathetic that he's ended up like this.

She raised her head, her gaze slowly sweeping over Han Mingqian and Zhou Bingsheng, finally settling on Yang Guangming's young face. Her eyes held a tentative look, and a barely perceptible hint of pleading.
"Director Han, Master Zhou, Xiao Yang... After all, we've been colleagues and worked in the same room for so many years. In the end, I think we could... do something to show our appreciation?"
No matter how much, a few dollars, or a few grain coupons or oil coupons, just scrape together a little and ask someone to send it to his family.

I heard his mother's health hasn't been very good... It's just a small token of my appreciation. Consider it... a send-off? A way to put an end to things?

Yang Guangming remained silent, but when necessary, his heart hardened like iron.

He remained calm and even felt that Zhang Yuqin's suggestion was somewhat superfluous, like a weak and powerless attempt to embellish a predetermined outcome.

He felt no pity for Li Weidong, only a cold calm after the hidden danger had been completely eliminated, like a cleanly wiped blade.

But he wouldn't let any of that emotion show; his face maintained a youthful, slightly somber silence.

Han Mingqian held the enamel teacup with the words "Advanced Worker" printed in red. As he watched the steam rise from the rim, his brows furrowed slightly, forming a deep wrinkle.

He clearly had no desire to be associated with the name "Li Weidong" in any way again.

But Zhang Yuqin's words carried a simple sense of social pressure and an unspoken understanding between colleagues.

He hesitated for a full half minute, his fingers tracing the warm rim of the cup, before finally speaking, his voice low and deep, as if squeezed from his chest:

"Privately, I helped his family as much as I could, which was... doing my best."

But remember, that's all.

Don't make a fuss about it, don't have anything in writing or formalities. Do it quietly, and that's it.

That's tacit approval.

Zhou Bingsheng kept his head down. When he heard this, he pushed up his thick black-rimmed glasses and still didn't say anything, but he always remembered that Li Weidong had helped him.

He slowly pulled a small, worn-out wallet made of blue cloth from the inside pocket of his faded Zhongshan suit jacket.

His movements carried a kind of rigid seriousness unique to old intellectuals.

He carefully opened his wallet and took out two crumpled five-yuan bills with frayed edges from the few bills inside. He placed them gently and almost silently on the table in front of him.

Zhang Yuqin immediately seemed relieved, a grateful look appearing on her face, and repeatedly said, "Thank you, Master Zhou! Thank you!"

She hurriedly opened the drawer, took out an old cloth wallet with small floral prints, and rummaged through it with her fingers, counting out three one-yuan bills and a few half-jin (250g) food coupons from Shanghai, which she also placed on the table.

Sunshine Ming also took action.

He returned to his office, opened a drawer, and took out an old brown paper envelope containing some spare change he had saved up.

He took out two relatively flat one-yuan bills and a half-jin grain coupon—these coupons were not very meaningful to him, as the refrigerator space could provide a wider and more abundant selection, but taking them out at this moment was the most appropriate and least suspicious "gift".

He put the money back in the envelope, walked back to the secretariat office, and gently placed it on Zhang Yuqin's desk: "Sister Zhang, this is a small token of my appreciation."

Han Mingqian finally took out two yuan from his shirt pocket, walked over, and placed it next to the pile of small bills.

He didn't say another word, nor did he even glance at the pile of money. He turned around and went back to his small director's office, closing the door behind him.

Several banknotes of varying shades and ages, along with a few scattered tickets bearing the words "Magic City Grain Bureau," lay quietly on Zhang Yuqin's desk piled high with documents, like a heavy and meager offering.

All added up, it was nearly twenty yuan and several kilograms of grain coupons, which wasn't a small amount.

In this era of extreme scarcity of resources and where every penny had to be stretched thin, the "labor" career that Li Weidong was about to face, and his already precarious family, was still just a drop in the ocean, better than nothing.

But this was the last and only connection, tinged with complex emotions, and a faint warmth, that the secretariat could offer this former colleague.

Yang Guangming and Han Mingqian both made it clear that they did not want to have any more direct contact with Li Weidong, and Zhou Bingsheng also silently shook his head, indicating that it was inconvenient for him to participate.

Zhang Yuqin nodded understandingly, her face bearing a solemn expression of having undertaken a certain mission.

She deftly gathered the money and tickets on the table, carefully wrapped them in a clean, faded handkerchief printed with pale blue flowers, folded the corners in half, wrapped them tightly several times, and finally stuffed them into the inside pocket of her blouse, pressing them down with her hand.

"Leave this to me. I know where he's locked up right now. I'll find a reliable person to get him in. Don't worry, do it quietly and without making a fuss."

She picked up the small cloth bag, which held the last vestiges of complicated feelings between her and her colleagues, and walked out of the office with slightly heavy steps.

The door closed gently behind her, making a soft "click" sound.

Yang Guangming returned to his office.

Outside the window, the blazing sun beat down fiercely, scorching the earth, yet the sunlight still shone brightly on the window frame.

The name Li Weidong, along with his face twisted with jealousy, finally sank completely into the turbulent torrent of the Huangpu River, like a small pebble thrown into the river, disappearing without a trace and never to cause another ripple.

(End of this chapter)