Nominal: Hou Liangping blocking the door? He was slapped away!

Chen Hai spent the whole morning in his new office at the Guangming District Procuratorate.

The documents awaiting his signature were stacked half a foot high. He flipped through them one by one, signing them slowly. It wasn't that he couldn't understand them, but that he dared not rush.

One year and three months. A six-square-meter room, a metal bunk bed, a gray cotton coat, and a set twenty-minute break for fresh air at designated times. Living like that for too long changes a person. You become extremely cautious about every second of freedom, afraid that if you make a mistake, you'll be stuffed back in.

After signing the last document, Chen Hai put down his pen and leaned back in his chair.

During his time in the detention center, he thought about everyone involved: Hou Liangping, Chen Yanshi, Gao Yuliang, and Shen Zhong.

What I think about most is Shen Zhong.

At first, it was hatred. Pure, visceral hatred. Hou Liangping said that Shen Zhong was arrogant and domineering, using his military power to oppress the locals, and he believed it. He believed it to the point that he was willing to follow him to storm the ammunition depot.

Later, hatred transformed into something else.

The six-square-meter room had no television, no newspapers, and no cell phones. But the soldiers in the detention center would occasionally chat, their voices coming through the iron gate, intermittent and broken.

He heard that Ding Yizhen had been arrested.

I heard that Zhao Lichun had been dismissed from his post.

I heard about the military control of Dafeng Factory.

Everything points to the same person.

Chen Hai came from the political and legal system; he wasn't stupid. He spent countless nights lying on his bunk bed, piecing together all the information, and finally came to a conclusion—

Hou Liangping was using him from beginning to end.

On the day they stormed the ammunition depot, Hou Liangping said he was "going to get heavy evidence of violations." When they arrived, they realized it was a live ammunition depot. The entire incident was recorded; Hou Liangping was at the front, but it was Chen Hai who shouted the slogans.

Looking back, Hou Liangping had calculated every step perfectly. If successful, the credit would go to Hou Liangping. If he failed, Chen Hai would take the blame.

And what about Shen Zhong?

Anyone who broke into a military ammunition depot could be executed by a military court.

Shen Zhong didn't sentence him. He imprisoned him for one year and three months, and then came to pick him up in person.

The condition was that she had to persuade her father.

Is this condition harsh? Yes. But is it fair? Yes.

Chen Hai turned his phone upside down and placed it face down on the table.

He no longer hated Shen Zhong.

It wasn't because Shen Zhong let him go, but because he finally understood something—Shen Zhong was far more sincere towards him than Hou Liangping was. At least Shen Zhong never pretended. If you need someone, just say so; the conditions are laid out on the table, and you can choose whether you want them or not.

Unlike some people who laugh as they push you into a pit, claiming it's for your own good.

There was a knock on the door three times.

"Please come in."

The door opened, and a woman stood in the doorway.

She had short hair, a round face, and wore a dark blue prosecutor's uniform, carrying a thermal bag in her hand.

Lu Yike.

"Chen Hai, you...you really came out." Lu Yike's voice trembled slightly. She stood at the door without moving, her eyes already red.

Chen Hai stood up. "That's fine, come in and sit down."

Lu Yike walked in and placed the insulated bag on the table. "These are dumplings my mom made, with cabbage and pork filling. She heard you got out and insisted I bring them over, saying you probably didn't have a decent meal while you were in there."

When she said "inside," her voice lowered.

Chen Hai looked at the insulated bag. He had eaten Judge Wu's dumplings before. Back then, when he was the director of the Anti-Corruption Bureau, Lu Yike would find excuses to visit his office every few days, always bringing food.

He knew what Lu Yike was thinking. The entire procuratorate knew.

"Please thank Aunt Wu for me." Chen Hai took the insulated bag and placed it on the corner of the table. He didn't open it.

Lu Yike's gaze fell on the insulated bag, then looked away.

You've lost a lot of weight.

"Um."

"Your face looks pale; have you been to the hospital for a checkup?"

"No need, it's alright."

There was a few seconds of silence.

Lu Yike put her hands behind her back and clenched her fingers. "Chen Hai, are you... living alone now?"

Chen Hai's fingers paused on the table for a moment.

"That's fine too." His voice calmed down. "Thank you for thinking of me. But I've just come out, and there are still many things I haven't sorted out."

The meaning of this sentence is very clear.

Lu Yike pursed her lips, pursing them tightly. Then she laughed, a very quick laugh, so quick it seemed unreal.

"Okay, then you go ahead and get busy. Eat the dumplings while they're hot; they won't taste good when they're cold."

She turned and left.

The footsteps faded into the distance in the corridor.

It was already dark when I got off work.

Chen Hai did not go home.

He drove his car out of the underground parking lot of the Guangming District Procuratorate, turned onto Huancheng Road, and stopped in front of a business hotel near Jingzhou University Town.

The receptionist was a girl in her early twenties. She glanced at Chen Hai when he registered with his ID card.

"318".

After receiving the room key, Chen Hai took the elevator.

Third floor, at the end of the corridor.

The room wasn't big, just a standard room. The curtains were drawn, and the air conditioner was set to 22 degrees Celsius. Chen Hai didn't turn on the main light after entering; he only turned on the light by the bedside.

He sat on the edge of the bed, took out his phone, and wrote a short message.

"Hanting Jingzhou University Town Store, 318."

send.

Then he put his phone on the bedside table and went to the bathroom to wash his face.

The person in the mirror looked more than five years older than a year ago. Their cheeks were sunken, their eye sockets were deep-set, and they had gray hairs at their temples. A thirty-six-year-old looked forty-five.

The tap was turned off. There was a knock on the door.

Two short and one long.

Chen Hai wiped his hands and went to open the door.

A woman stood outside the door. She wore a trench coat, a scarf wrapped around her chin, and sunglasses pulled low.

She took off her sunglasses.

Liang Lu.

Associate Research Fellow of the Political and Legal Affairs Commission of Handong Province. Wife of Qi Tongwei.

She walked in quickly, closing the door behind her as she went. The sound of the latch snapping into the doorframe was exceptionally clear in the quiet room.

"Hai Zi".

Liang Lu's voice was hoarse. After not seeing him for a year and three months, the first thing she noticed was Chen Hai's cheekbones. They were so prominent, as if they were about to burst through the skin.

"So thin."

She reached out and touched Chen Hai's face. His fingers were icy cold, as if he had just come in from outside.

Chen Hai took her hand. He didn't say anything.

Liang Lu's tears fell. Not the kind of loud sobbing, but silent tears, one by one, falling onto the collar of her trench coat.

"I thought you wouldn't be able to get out."

"They're out."

"How did you get out?"

"Shen Zhongfang."

Liang Lu's body stiffened slightly. She knew all too well the weight that the name Shen Zhong carried in the officialdom of Handong.

"What does he want you to do?"

"It's done. The matter at Dafeng Factory."

Liang Lu didn't ask any more questions. She took off her trench coat, folded it neatly, and draped it over the back of the chair. Underneath, she wore a simple gray turtleneck sweater.

The two sat on the edge of the bed, about half a fist's width apart.