The doctor opened the file.
“According to the records, she doesn’t qualify. But the Ministry of Public Security’s Hexi Special Task Group specifically called and asked you to handle it personally.”
Zhao Lingcheng read the file, while Chen Mianmian peeked—and saw her own name.
The doctor found it strange, since she had triggered a direct request from the ministry.
Chen Mianmian hadn’t forgotten—she had simply prepared a backup plan in case Zhao Lingcheng refused her.
She hadn’t expected things to be handled so strictly.
It was the application she had filled out at the hospital in Quancheng.
The note read: Suspected placenta previa. Request ultrasound reexamination.
Zhao Lingcheng read the file, then looked at her.
Under the dim light, she looked extremely thin.
Her face was sallow, lips dark, veins bulging in her neck—only her eyes remained bright.
His hand trembled, and an envelope fell out: Deposit: 35 yuan.
He checked the records again—the last menstrual date and due date.
The timing matched exactly with when they had been together.
The postmark proved the file had been sent directly from the city hospital to the base.
The doctor saluted.
“The political department said the decision is up to you.”
Zhao Lingcheng returned the salute.
“Thank you for working late. Get some rest.”
He went inside, wiped the table once, then again more carefully.
Finally, he said,
“So you came back because you realized you might have a difficult labor.”
Before she could answer, he added,
“Three months ago, I heard you were going to remarry at the ironworks.”
Chen Mianmian lowered her eyes and half-lied,
“The Xu siblings forced me to marry Section Chief Wei. They beat me when I refused, so I pretended to agree.”
She continued,
“We’re husband and wife. And I love you and the baby. I escaped, contacted your aunt, and reported it. A police officer who knew you saved me and helped me get justice.”
Zhao Lingcheng asked,
“Which officer?”
She shook her head.
“He looked about forty, had a Beijing accent, dark skin. I don’t know his name.”
Zhao Lingcheng seemed to understand.
Then he said coldly,
“So even the divorce was forced?”
Chen Mianmian sniffed and nodded.
“Of course.”
But he countered,
“Last year I saw Wei Cuiyun personally ride a bicycle to take you home. Was that forced too?”
She almost jumped.
That wasn’t forced.
But she had no choice—she had to lie.
“I was already pregnant then. Morning sickness made me dizzy, and my mother lied about being sick. I couldn’t walk, so I asked him to give me a ride.”
She added,
“The worse a woman’s mood, the worse the symptoms…”
They had argued before she left—so her excuse worked.
Zhao Lingcheng looked uneasy but pointed out,
“You knew your mother was lying.”
She had no reply.
She licked her lips, wanting water.
He poured her a cup without a word.
Holding up four fingers, she said,
“You saw the due date—July 8. At most a week’s difference. Add a month of recovery, and you only need to tolerate us for four months. I have 250 yuan—150 from your aunt, 100 of my own. I’ll give it all to you as a deposit.”
He asked,
“If you give me everything, how will you live?”
She smiled.
“I can earn money. After the baby is a month old, I’ll leave with her.”
After recovery, she would divorce and return to Quancheng.
After a long silence, he glanced at the cabinet—there was half a bottle of vodka.
He used to drink, but stopped after marriage—because all his alcohol had been taken by her family.
Seeing his hesitation, she said,
“Have a drink and rest. Decide tomorrow.”
She added,
“I won’t take your alcohol anymore.”
He paused, then asked,
“What about after that? Where will you go?”
“Back to Quancheng,” she said.
He sneered,
“To serve your mother and brother? Get beaten again? Then tell people I abused you?”
She held back her frustration.
“I graduated from Hongzhuan School. I’ll find a job.”
“With a baby?” he asked.
“I can work as an English translator. I can earn extra and hire a nanny.”
He stared at her.
“You only knew A and B. You didn’t even know C.”
She insisted,
“I was pretending. My foreign languages are excellent.”
He didn’t believe her.
“You might as well go catch zokors,” he said.
She actually considered it.
Seeing her nod, he scoffed,
“So my daughter will be crawling in the fields catching rodents with you?”
She said firmly,
“I can take care of my child.”
He replied,
“She’s my child too. Add a clause—if we remarry, the child stays with me after one month.”
Her belly moved again.
“No,” she said immediately.
She argued,
“You’ll be away most of the year. What if the nanny mistreats her?”
He said nothing, then took out the 35-yuan deposit slip.
Then his expression changed.
On the back was a line:
This patient is an abandoned military wife. Please give her consideration.
Chen Mianmian froze.
She hadn’t written that—but others must have misunderstood.
Yet she had been the one who initiated the divorce.
Now it looked like he had abandoned her.
…
Looking at his shocked expression, she forced a smile.
“Let me explain… I mean, clarify!”