Rumors had been growing increasingly rampant. Lin Xiaoyue was clearly not satisfied with spreading gossip on a small scale. She began circulating stories about Chen Shuang’s family more widely and even “accidentally” let slip to people at the division that “Chen Shuang’s family were big capitalists” and that “her uncle had fled to Hong Kong with the family fortune.”
These rumors snowballed, eventually drawing the attention of the division’s security department. That morning, two security officers came to the regiment headquarters, requesting to speak with Chen Shuang.
He Yanzhi received the news while leading a training session on the drill field. Xiao Zhang hurried over to report. His expression darkened, but he tossed out a single command: “Continue training,” and strode toward the regiment office.
Inside the office, Political Commissar Zhao was negotiating with the two security officers. Seeing He Yanzhi enter, Zhao gave him a glance, signaling him to stay calm.
“Regiment Commander He, we received a formal report from the public, indicating that your wife, Comrade Chen Shuang, has questionable family background,” the older officer spoke politely. “We need Comrade Chen Shuang to go to the division for an investigation.”
He Yanzhi’s expression hardened. “A formal report? Who filed it?”
“The… regulations don’t allow us to disclose that.”
“Then there’s no need to discuss further.” He Yanzhi turned to leave. “My wife—her background has long been verified by the organization. If anyone has doubts, they can access her files according to procedure.”
The younger officer quickly interjected: “Regiment Commander He, we are also following procedure. The report contains specific details: that her family were well-known capitalists in Shanghai before liberation, that they owned factories, lived in foreign-style buildings, drove cars…”
“Nonsense!” Zhao slammed the desk. “Comrade Chen Shuang’s father was an engineer, her mother a teacher. It’s all clearly documented! Capitalists? Pure fabrication!”
“So we need to verify.” The older officer persisted. “We request Comrade Chen Shuang to cooperate with the investigation. It’s an organizational decision.”
He Yanzhi took a deep breath, about to speak, when the office door quietly opened.
Chen Shuang stood at the doorway, expression calm, carrying a small old leather suitcase. She clearly already knew—Aunt Zhou had told her.
“Commissar, Yanzhi, I’m here.” Chen Shuang walked in, nodding at the two officers. “I’m Chen Shuang. I heard there was a report questioning my family. I’m willing to cooperate and clarify the facts.”
He Yanzhi opened his mouth, but Chen Shuang gave him a reassuring glance.
“However,” she continued, “before going to the division, I want to explain some things here and show the relevant evidence.”
The older officer frowned. “Comrade Chen Shuang, we suggest going to the division—”
“Here is fine.” Chen Shuang’s tone was calm but firm. “Since the rumors originated here, they should be clarified here. I don’t want more people to be misled.”
Political Commissar Zhao looked at the two officers. “I think that’s fine. Investigation or not, the location doesn’t matter. If Comrade Chen Shuang can provide evidence here, it will save time.”
The two officers exchanged a glance, ultimately nodding in agreement.
Chen Shuang placed the old suitcase on the table and gently opened it. Inside were neatly stacked, yellowed sheets of paper, carefully wrapped in wax paper, edges worn from age.
She picked up the top bundle and carefully opened it, taking out a few sheets.
“These are some receipts from my grandfather, documenting secret donations of medicine and supplies to the New Fourth Army during the War of Resistance,” Chen Shuang unfolded the papers. The handwriting was slightly faded but still legible. “This one is from 1939, this one from 1941… each has the receiving unit’s stamp and responsible person’s signature.”
She took another bundle. “These are receipts from my father during the Liberation War, from selling part of the family assets to support underground work. This is the 1947 list of medicines donated to the East China Field Army, and this is a 1948 certificate of purchase for patriotic bonds.”
The papers spread across half the table. Some edges were torn, some ink smudged, but the contents were clear—donation dates, item lists, receiving units, stamps, signatures, even handwritten notes from underground party officials.
The meeting room was silent, only Chen Shuang’s calm voice continuing.
She pulled out more documents. “These are certificates showing that my father, Chen Yixuan, purchased national construction bonds annually starting 1950, and my mother, Lin Wanyi, donated monthly to the city orphanage starting 1952.”
Finally, she presented a thick certificate. “In 1956, my parents donated 137 rare books from our family collection to the Shanghai Library. Many of these were unique editions, now held in the library’s special collections.”
Chen Shuang lifted her gaze, meeting everyone in the room. Her voice was clear and firm:
“My family was indeed involved in business, but we loved our country and our party, supporting the revolution whenever the nation and people needed it. My father was an engineer, my mother a teacher—they lived honest lives, worthy of the country and the people.”
She paused, looking at the two security officers. “If this makes our family ‘capitalists,’ or this behavior is considered ‘problematic,’ I have nothing more to say. But I trust the organization, I trust the Party to give us justice.”
The room was silent. The two officers carefully examined each document on the table, expressions shifting from serious, to solemn, to respectful.
The older officer finally looked up, tone completely changed: “Comrade Chen Shuang, these materials… are extremely precious. Why did you keep them all this time?”
“My father said they are not only family memories but historical testimony,” Chen Shuang said softly. “Our family has nothing to hide. These documents are the best proof.”
Political Commissar Zhao exhaled, telling the two officers: “The situation is clear. Chen Shuang’s family has no problems; they are a model patriotic and progressive family. The rumors were purely malicious slander!”
The younger officer hung his head in shame. “We were not thorough enough, almost wronged a good comrade.”
“It’s not your fault.” Chen Shuang shook her head. “Someone was determined to slander me. Your investigation followed procedure, which was correct. But I hope the organization finds the source of the rumors, so that those who maliciously slander the families of revolutionary soldiers can’t act with impunity.”
“We will handle it strictly!” the older officer solemnly promised.
The news quickly spread through the regiment. The military wives who had once gossiped about Chen Shuang felt ashamed yet respectful upon learning the truth. Sister Wang was the first to apologize, eyes red. “Xiaoshuang, I’m sorry, I doubted you before…”
“It’s not your fault,” Chen Shuang held her hand. “Rumors were rampant, anyone would have doubts. Now it’s cleared up.”
Zhang Caifeng didn’t dare go out for several days. As for Lin Xiaoyue, after the security department began tracing the source of the rumors, she panicked. When the troupe leadership confronted her, she stammered and could only claim she “heard it from someone else.”
But it wasn’t over. He Yanzhi, using his channels, found evidence of collusion between Lin Xiaoyue and Zhang Caifeng and reported it to the division. Division leaders were furious and ordered strict handling.
A week later, the results were announced: Zhang Caifeng was publicly criticized by the regiment and given a demerit; Lin Xiaoyue was expelled from the troupe, transferred from her post, and sent to a grassroots farm for labor reform.
On the evening the news arrived, He Yanzhi returned home early. Chen Shuang was helping Aunt Zhou in the kitchen and, hearing the gate, wiped her hands and went outside.
In the sunset, He Yanzhi stood by the grape trellis. Seeing her, a rare smile appeared on his lips.
“It’s all settled,” he said. “No one will dare spread gossip again.”
Chen Shuang walked over softly. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He Yanzhi held her hand. “You did nothing wrong. And those documents… you kept them so carefully.”
“My father said, ‘the innocent are clear, but you also need proof,’” Chen Shuang leaned on his shoulder, watching the sunset. “Now it’s over, it’s all past.”
“Not completely over.” He Yanzhi held her close. “Tomorrow the regiment will hold a meeting. Political Commissar Zhao wants you to speak, to tell the truth again and fully clarify.”
Chen Shuang was momentarily taken aback. “Me? Speak?”
“Yes,” He Yanzhi looked at her. “You are the one involved, so you have the most right to speak. And those documents should be seen by more people, so the truth is known.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Chen Shuang nodded. “Alright.”
The next morning, the regiment auditorium was packed. Not only cadres and soldiers, but also the military wives from the housing compound attended. Everyone wanted to hear how this so-called “capitalist lady” had actually lived.
Chen Shuang stepped onto the stage; the audience fell silent. She wore a Lenin-style suit, hair neatly combed, carrying the old suitcase.
She didn’t read from a script. Calmly and clearly, she spoke of her family donating medicine during the war, of her parents supporting national construction for decades; of donating rare family books, and the stories behind the yellowed donation receipts.
Her words were simple, without flourish, but heartfelt. When emotional, her voice choked briefly but quickly steadied.
“…My family was not big capitalists, just an ordinary intellectual family. But we love this country, love this party, and are willing to contribute everything for the nation’s development. These receipts are not for showing off—they are testimony, testimony of an ordinary family breathing and sharing fate with their country through the tide of history.”
When Chen Shuang finished, the auditorium was silent for a few seconds, then erupted into thunderous applause.
When Political Commissar Zhao went up to summarize, he spoke emotionally: “Comrades, Chen Shuang’s family is a model patriotic and progressive family! Those who spread malicious rumors not only harmed Comrade Chen Shuang but also hurt our revolutionary sentiment! We must learn from this and resolutely resist such vile behavior!”
After the meeting, Chen Shuang was immediately surrounded by a group of military wives, all apologizing, comforting her, eyes full of respect and regret.
Sister Wang held her hand, eyes red again: “Xiaoshuang, you spoke so well… we all misjudged you…”
“It’s all past, Sister Wang,” Chen Shuang smiled. “From now on, we’ll live as before, peacefully.”
As she left the auditorium, the sunlight was just right. He Yanzhi waited at the door, and seeing her, walked up briskly.
“You spoke very well,” he whispered, eyes betraying pride.
Chen Shuang looked at him, warmth filling her heart. This storm had finally passed, and through this trial, she and He Yanzhi understood and trusted each other even more.
The sea breeze carried its familiar saltiness. Chen Shuang knew there might still be storms ahead, but as long as they faced them together, no obstacle was insurmountable.
Meanwhile, on a remote farm far from the island, Lin Xiaoyue stared blankly across the endless fields. She couldn’t understand how, even knowing so many “advantages” in her second chance at life, she still lost to Chen Shuang.
Perhaps she had been wrong from the start—wrong to treat love as something to seize, wrong to see marriage as a transaction, and worst of all, wrong to underestimate the bond between Chen Shuang and He Yanzhi, a love forged strong through storms.