The Overlord Flower's Guide to Intercepting a Woman's Wife's Death and the Male Lead&

At 8:00 a.m. sharp, Zhou Bingheng appeared at the entrance of the division headquarters office.

His military uniform was impeccably tailored, his top button fastened tightly, and he carried a manila envelope in his left hand and two folded sheets of official documents in his right.

There were quite a few people in the room. The division commander sat in the main seat, Liang Jin stood by the window, and the chief of staff and the director of the political department stood on either side.

Section Chief Yue sat behind a side table, with a file folder sealed with glue stacked on the corner of the table. The glue at the seal was hardened by the dryness. It had been sealed last night and was just waiting to go through the procedures and be reported this morning.

Zhou Bingheng came in but did not sit down.

He first saluted the division commander, then turned to Section Chief Yue, placed the two pages of paper in his right hand on the table, and pushed them forward.

"Section Chief Yue, this is a personal record of the situation, detailing several key time points related to certain procedures during the investigation."

He paused for a moment.

Please take a look.

His tone was flat and ordinary, no different from reading documents at a meeting in the regiment headquarters.

Section Chief Yue picked it up and opened it.

There are five in total.

Every single point pointed out a weakness in the investigation process.

What should have been investigated wasn't investigated, what should have been seen wasn't seen, and what should have been asked wasn't asked. Every single item has a date and witnesses.

Section Chief Yue read through each item one by one, without changing his page-turning speed.

When I got to the last item, my finger paused for two seconds.

The last line states: If the above content is inconsistent with the facts, I am willing to bear all disciplinary responsibilities.

The meaning of this sentence is crystal clear.

Once this record is filed, five clean holes will be punched into the procedures of his investigation.

Section Chief Yue looked up.

Zhou Bingheng stood in front of the table, his hands hanging naturally at his sides, looking relaxed.

"Section Chief Yue, I believe these omissions were caused by time constraints."

He paused for a moment.

"So, I've brought the missing materials for you as well."

He opened the kraft paper envelope in his left hand, took out several documents, and placed them one by one in front of Section Chief Yue.

Su Yuanzhen's battlefield medical records manuscript, three copies, yellowed pages protected by transparent paper, the earliest copy dated autumn 1948.

Next to it are three photocopies of commendation letters from different field hospitals, with clear stamps and verifiable unit numbers.

At the very bottom was a handwritten character certificate from a retired deputy ministerial-level official, the penmanship neat and orderly, complete with a signature and personal seal.

"Section Chief Yue's report stated that the origin of the Su family acupuncture tradition needs to be verified."

Zhou Bingheng pushed the manuscript forward another two inches.

"These three field medical records cover the period from 1948 to 1952, and the acupuncture techniques recorded are completely consistent with those used by my wife."

His voice was neither hurried nor slow.

"If the organization needs it, I can contact the veterans who received treatment from Dr. Su back then and have them testify in person."

Section Chief Yue did not respond.

He opened the second letter of commendation, flipping all the way to the signature at the end, his gaze lingering there for five seconds.

The weight of that name might not be recognized by everyone in the room.

But Section Chief Yue recognized him.

He closed the letter of commendation, placed it back on the table, and ran his fingertip along the edge of the paper.

"Political Commissar Zhou prepared very thorough materials."

affected and pretentious.

"But these materials can only prove Su Yuanzhen's contributions, not directly prove the succession relationship between Comrade Su Xingmian and Su Yuanzhen."

Zhou Bingheng smiled and pushed over a handwritten medical record bearing Su Yuanzhen's signature and personal seal.

"As expected, Section Chief Yue still has objections to this."

He glanced down at his watch.

"The next document should be more convincing."

No sooner had he finished speaking than there were three knocks on the door.

The correspondent pushed open the door and came in, carrying a brown hardcover folder with a red confidential seal on the cover.

He slammed his heels on the ground and stood at attention.

"Report! Forwarded by the Confidential Office in Beijing, marked as to be jointly opened and read by the division commander and the head of the investigation team!"

The division commander stood up.

Liang Jin stepped aside.

The chief of staff and the director of the political department exchanged a glance, but neither of them spoke.

The division commander took the folder, used a letter opener to cut open the seal, and pulled out a telegram slip stamped with a red square seal.

He read it from beginning to end.

The hand holding the telegram slip unconsciously tightened its grip.

He handed the telegram to Section Chief Yue.

"Take a look."

Section Chief Yue took it.

The first two points confirm Su Yuanzhen's identity and contributions, and confirm that Su Xingmian is her only descendant.

Article 3: We request that your department treat the descendants of the Su family well, make proper arrangements for their work and life in their place of residence, and refrain from conducting political investigations against them based on unverified materials.

Article 4. The previous investigation into Comrade Su Xingmian is terminated immediately, and the relevant whistleblower materials will be directly reviewed and verified by the Political Department of the Central Committee.

The signature was not given.

There is only one number.

Everyone present recognized the person represented by that number.

The room fell silent, completely silent.

Liang Jin swallowed hard, his voice so loud it startled even himself.

The chief of staff glanced at Zhou Bingheng for a moment, then quickly looked away.

The director of the political department opened his mouth slightly, but no sound came out.

Section Chief Yue's hand holding the telegram was trembling, not a large tremor, but a fine, uncontrollable tremor at the fingertips.

He put the telegram back on the table and pressed it down with his hands folded together.

He sat completely still.

A minute passed, and no one spoke.

Then Section Chief Yue reached out and picked up the sealed file folder on the corner of the table.

The glue seal was torn open with a hiss, and the conclusion report was pulled out and spread out on the table.

In front of everyone, he tore up the report.

Then write down the new conclusion.

After investigation and verification, Comrade Su Xingmian's identity was found to be innocent, and no violations of discipline or law or suspicion of being an enemy agent were found. The investigation was closed.

The hand that was writing was still trembling.

The pen was put down; the ink was still wet.

Zhou Bingheng watched him finish writing the last character.

"Thank you for your hard work, Section Chief Yue."

His tone was exactly the same as when he entered—gentle, polite, and impeccable.

He reached out, took back the five-point situation record from the table, folded it, and put it in his jacket pocket.

I didn't give it to Section Chief Yue.

It wasn't handed to the division commander either.

Only Su Yuanzhen's medical manuscripts and commendation materials remained on the table.

"Section Chief Yue can keep these materials on file; I'll come back to pick up the originals later."

Section Chief Yue nodded without saying a word.

Liang Jin stood by the window, his shirt soaked through on his back.

He had guessed several versions of the political commissar's wife's background before, but none of them were accurate.

"Section Chief Yue."

Zhou Bingheng had already reached the door when he turned back.

"Can I go pick up my loved one now?"

Their eyes met.

"Can."

Zhou Bingheng saluted, a slight smile finally appearing on his lips, and turned to leave.

The canvas shoes trotted slowly across the concrete floor of the corridor.

The division commander watched his figure disappear at the end of the corridor, let out a long sigh, and turned around to scan the people in the room.

"Anyone who spreads even a single word about what happened today will have to write a self-criticism and submit it."

The chief of staff and the director of the political department responded in unison.

Liang Jin belatedly wiped the sweat from his forehead.

The political commissar's record of the situation, he might put it out but not tell you, and then take it back and not use it, but you know he has it.

Holding it in your hand is even more ruthless than handing it over.

After the meeting, only Section Chief Yue remained in the office.

He locked the confidential documents in his briefcase and sat for a while.

I picked up the phone and dialed a long-distance number.

It rang six times before being answered.

Section Chief Yue only said one sentence.

"It can't be done."

There was a three-second silence on the other end.

"understood."

The phone hangs up.

Three thousand kilometers away, in the western suburbs of Beijing.

The study on the second floor of the gray brick building was well-heated.

A man in a military overcoat put down the receiver, his finger pausing on the phone for a moment.

On the desk lay a returned approval document, stamped with the red seal of the superior authority in the upper right corner, next to which was a handwritten note: "The material is untrue."

He stubbed out the cigarette, which had burned down to the base of his fingers, and shoved the butt into the glass ashtray, turning it twice.

Pull out the bottom drawer of the desk and pull out a photo from under the files.

The woman in the photo is wearing a Lenin suit, her face turned to the side, and her features are stunning.

It's Song Qingqing.

He looked at it for two seconds, then flipped the photo back to the bottom of the drawer, pulled it up, and locked it.