Nominal: My senior brothers are all big shots

The visit was scheduled for a morning a few months from now. Lin Feng had contacted the prison beforehand and arranged a private meeting room, free from other inmates' families. Zhou Tianming's cousin, Zhou Minghui, was in his early forties and worked for a state-owned enterprise in the provincial capital. He was honest and hardworking, a complete contrast to Zhou Tianming. As Zhou's eldest son, he had been strictly disciplined by his father since childhood, always acting with impeccable manners and never daring to overstep boundaries.

Zhou Minghui came from Beijing by high-speed train. Lin Feng asked Old Zhou to pick him up at the station and take him directly to the prison gate. When Lin Feng arrived, Zhou Minghui was already waiting at the gate. He was wearing a dark gray jacket, his hair was a little messy, and he had dark circles under his eyes, clearly indicating that he hadn't slept all night. When he saw Lin Feng, he quickly walked over, grasped Lin Feng's hand, and said in a slightly strained voice, "Secretary Lin, thank you for your trouble."

Lin Feng shook his head: "Of course. Let's go in."

The two passed through security, went through several iron gates, and entered the meeting room. The room was small, containing a long table, a few chairs, a national flag hanging on the wall, and a glass wall opposite, beyond which lay the prisoners' activity area. Zhou Minghui sat down in a chair, his hands resting on the table, his knuckles white. His eyes were fixed on the iron door, waiting for it to open.

The iron gate opened. Zhou Tianming, dressed in prison clothes, with his hair shaved short, his face ashen, and his eyes sunken, looked even thinner than when he last appeared in court. He walked in, saw Zhou Minghui, paused for a moment, then lowered his head, walked slowly to the glass, and sat down in a chair.

Zhou Minghui picked up the microphone and looked at Zhou Tianming through the glass. His lips trembled; he wanted to say something, but swallowed it back. Zhou Tianming also picked up the microphone, lowered his head, and remained silent.

There was a long silence.

"Brother..." Zhou Tianming's voice was very soft, as if squeezed from his chest. Zhou Minghui's tears welled up instantly. He didn't wipe them away, letting them flow. "Mingyuan, Dad sent me to see you."

Zhou Tianming's shoulders began to tremble. He looked up at Zhou Minghui, his eyes red-rimmed. "Uncle... Uncle, how are you?"

Zhou Minghui nodded. "It's alright. It's just that his legs are bad, he can't walk, and he's in a wheelchair every day. But his spirits are good, he can eat and sleep well."

Zhou Tianming's tears finally streamed down his face. He buried his face in his hands on the table and cried. Not the silent kind of weeping, but a loud, wailing cry, like when he was a child and had been bullied outside, running home to his uncle. But this time, his uncle wasn't there. Zhou Minghui didn't try to comfort him, didn't urge him on, just sat there, waiting. His tears were flowing too, but he didn't utter a sound.

After a long while, Zhou Tianming raised his head, wiped away his tears, and looked at Zhou Minghui. "Brother, I'm so sorry to Uncle. I can never repay his kindness in this lifetime. But I've completely disgraced him."

Zhou Minghui shook his head. "Dad said, let's not talk about these things anymore. What's past is past."

Zhou Tianming paused for a moment, then said, "Did your uncle ask you to pass on any message to me?"

Zhou Minghui nodded, took a deep breath, as if trying to calm his voice. "Dad said you should reform yourself well and try to get a reduced sentence. He also said you should take good care of yourself in there and not worry him."

Zhou Tianming's tears flowed again. He didn't wipe them away, letting them stream down his face. "Brother, please tell Uncle for me that I will reform myself. I'm studying law in there, reading books every day. I've made up my mind; when I get out on a reduced sentence, I want to be a useful person. I want to do something for those I've wronged."

Zhou Minghui looked at him, wanting to say something, but swallowed it back. He nodded without speaking.

Lin Feng sat in an office outside the meeting room, watching the scene unfold on a monitor. He didn't hear what they were saying, but he saw Zhou Tianming cry, and Zhou Minghui cried too. He turned his head, looked out at the gray sky, and remained silent for a long time.

When the meeting ended, Zhou Minghui came out of the meeting room, his eyes red and swollen, his head bowed. Lin Feng stood up and walked over. "Brother Zhou, are you alright?"

Zhou Minghui shook his head and wiped his eyes. "Secretary Lin, thank you."

Lin Feng said, "Let's go, I'll take you to the station."

The two walked out of the prison gate. The sky outside was still overcast, and the wind was strong, stinging their faces. Lin Feng stood at the gate, turned around, and glanced at the iron door. The iron door was thick and tall, closed, and he couldn't see inside. He remembered the first time he saw Zhou Tianming in the municipal party committee building—wearing a dark jacket, a white shirt, no tie, a kind smile, and sharp eyes. Now, he was inside.

Lin Feng got into the car, and Old Zhou started the engine, driving out of the prison. Zhou Minghui sat in the back seat, gazing out the window, silent for a long time. As they approached the station, he suddenly spoke. "Secretary Lin, Dad said that Mingyuan's current situation is all his fault."

Lin Feng glanced at him in the rearview mirror but didn't say anything.

Zhou Minghui continued, "He said that if he had been able to harden his heart and control Mingyuan back then, Mingyuan wouldn't have ended up like this. He said that Mingyuan was the only bloodline left by his elder brother, and he felt sorry for his elder brother." He paused, his voice lowering, "I told Dad that it wasn't his fault. Mingyuan himself went down the wrong path. He wouldn't listen."

Lin Feng paused for a moment, then said, "Your father has shouldered a lot for your cousin. He's carried it all alone all these years; it hasn't been easy for him."

Zhou Minghui nodded without saying a word. The car arrived at the station, and he got off, standing at the door looking at Lin Feng. "Secretary Lin, thank you. Please take care."

Lin Feng said, "You too. Give my regards to your father."

Zhou Minghui nodded, turned, and walked into the station. His back was thin and hunched, and he walked very slowly. Lin Feng sat in the car, watching him disappear into the crowd, then said to Old Zhou, "Back to Pingjiang."

The car pulled out of the station and onto the highway. Lin Feng leaned back in his seat, his eyes closed. He remembered the words in Old Zhou's letter—"I'm old and useless. I'm entrusting the Pingjiang matter to you." He remembered Old Zhou saying in the video—"Mingyuan, you've disappointed me greatly." He remembered Zhou Tianming kneeling at the entrance of the sanatorium, from sunrise to sunset, but Old Zhou never showed up. He remembered Zhou Tianming crying like a child on the table today. He remembered Zhou Minghui saying—"Dad said that Mingyuan's current situation is all his fault."

He opened his eyes and looked out at the gray sky.