Liang Xin’s coughing grew more severe.
She never expected that Wei Yuanyang’s marriage proposal would be directed at the Lu family.
Lu Yueji was Wei Yuanyang’s first wife.
The Lu family was Wei Yuanyang’s first major backer!
The original book she had read only briefly summarized Wei Yuanyang’s rise to wealth from the perspective of cannon fodder characters.
Regarding his three wives, only the third wife was described in relative detail. The first two wives were essentially like her—cannon fodder—mere tools to propel the legendary magnate’s career forward.
The book merely mentioned in passing that Wei Yuanyang and his first wife were childhood sweethearts, but their marriage was unhappy, leading to her suicide.
After his wife’s death, his father-in-law, having lost his beloved son, treated Wei Yuanyang—his son’s savior and son-in-law—as his own flesh and blood. He not only did not blame him but even urged him not to grieve too deeply.
Having lost all her children, his mother-in-law fell gravely ill and remained bedridden, with Wei Yuanyang providing both financial support and care until her death.
After his in-laws passed away, Wei Yuanyang visited their graves every year to burn paper offerings, even after his third marriage, without fail during each Qingming Festival.
Everyone said his first wife was simply unlucky.
Thus, his in-laws’ family also served to highlight the male lead’s charismatic character.
Lost his beloved son.
Committed suicide.
Fell gravely ill.
Lost all her children.
Visited graves every year.
Liang Xin extracted these keywords, glanced at Lu Zewei, and then looked at her mother-in-law, who, despite her anger, still remembered to serve her a bowl of Soybean Stewed Trotters.
“Liang Xin, eat, have more.” Hu Fenglian placed the bowl in front of Liang Xin, her expression filled with indignation. “Hongyan is still the same as ever. If you don’t speak up, she’ll keep taking advantage. The moment she sat down, she started wiping her tears, saying that Battalion Commander Wei sacrificed himself to cover for you and was hit by a shell. I didn’t give in to her this time. If I had, she would’ve used this favor to make demands and become even more presumptuous.”
Chief Lu set down his chopsticks. “What marriage proposal?”
“She misunderstood, though I doubt it was a misunderstanding. Never mind, what she thinks isn’t important. What matters is that she’s now determined to have Yueji marry Yuan Yang.” Hu Fenglian added another serving of lamb to Liang Xin’s bowl. “I didn’t want to say anything harsh in front of Yuan Yang, so I told her we’d discuss it after you returned.”
“Later, make a phone call and invite them over. Old Wei left only this one child behind. I want to see what kind of person he’s grown into.”
After saying this, Chief Lu didn’t wait for Hu Fenglian’s response but turned to Lu Zewei. “Now that you’re married, you can’t act and speak thoughtlessly as you did before. Later, write a self-criticism, deliver it to the military academy, and personally apologize to the instructors.”
Hu Fenglian quickly looked at her son, observing his expression.
“Let them point out which of my words was wrong. If they can, I’ll apologize.”
Seeing his son’s defiant attitude, Chief Lu instinctively wanted to reprimand him but suddenly remembered something. He glanced at Liang Xin, cleared his throat lightly, and said, “Finished eating? Come with me to the study.”
“Old Lu!” Hu Fenglian tugged at Chief Lu’s sleeve. “He’s only just gotten a little better…”
Without waiting for her to finish, Chief Lu strode into the study first and, without looking back, said to the guard, “Xiao Wei, if he doesn’t come, drag him in.”
“Take your time eating.”
Lu Zewei said this to Liang Xin, pushed back his chair, stood up, and headed to the study.
Although they had entered the study, the sound was hardly muffled, and soon, intermittent voices could be heard from within.
Because the father and son were raising their voices with each exchange, their argument could be clearly heard from outside.
Lu Chongfeng: “If anyone who can speak and says a few words I don’t like can be considered my teacher, then what about flies and mosquitoes buzzing in my ears? I don’t like that either. Should I apologize to them too?”
Chief Lu couldn’t contain his anger when facing his son. “Don’t think just because you’ve been to the battlefield a few times and earned some medals that you know everything! They all went to war earlier than you…”
“So all they can teach are outdated methods like bayonets and grenades – fake, exaggerated, and empty. They think enemy tanks are made of paper, that one shot can wipe out a large group of enemies. They’re treating teaching like movie-making and misleading students. When I suggested they switch to teaching rice planting and farming, I was being polite.”
“You bastard!”
Liang Xin heard something hit the study door with a loud crash.
“This child!” Hu Fenglian frowned. “He’s really lost his mind, daring to say such things. I need to go in and calm them down. If this shouting continues and someone overhears, it could be disastrous.”
Hu Fenglian hurried off, and Liang Xin, having finished eating, followed her to the study door.
“They’re both about cultivation – why can’t we transfer truly capable people to the military academy instead of keeping these old ones who only think about how to avoid mistakes, treating ‘no faults’ as achievement, and muddling through teaching? If you put these teachers on the border facing Soviet or Vietnamese troops, they’d collapse in less than three rounds. If they want to be turtles hiding in their shells, they shouldn’t take on this responsibility of destroying talent. Which part of what I said was wrong?”
Chief Lu was furious, his face flushed red. Seeing Liang Xin enter, he restrained himself from throwing the ink bottle in his hand. “You! So only you have real talent, and everyone else is outdated? Then tell me, what should military academies teach now?”
“Teach culture, teach science, teach physics, teach foreign languages!”
Lu Zewei said seriously: “The most important thing now is to stop blindly clinging to old training methods. We must open our eyes to the world, learn from foreign militaries, understand their latest tactical characteristics, and constantly keep up with their organization, equipment, and combat philosophy. Many of our Communist Party members have long fallen behind…”
“Bullshit!”
Chief Lu finally lost control and threw the ink bottle at his son’s head. “You’ve got some nerve! Spouting such nonsense!”
Black ink dripped from Lu Zewei’s head, staining half his face.
The ink quickly flowed from his neck into his uniform, then dripped from his cuffs to his fingertips.
He looked like a dark cloud had descended upon him, half-human, half-ghost.
“Truly outrageous! Too reactionary!”
Hu Fenglian scolded while urgently fetching a towel: “He’s mad, this child is really sick! I think he’s completely lost his mind!”
Liang Xin walked over and handed him a neatly folded handkerchief.
Lu Zewei didn’t take it. His ink-stained hands were trembling, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Chief Lu.
Father and son stood in confrontation for a long time.
Lu Zewei turned and ran out of the study, taking the stairs two at a time to the second floor.
That evening, when Liang Xin returned to her room, Lu Zewei was still curled up under the covers with his head hidden.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
Liang Xin placed the bowl on the bedside table. “Mom cooked a bowl of noodles—she hand-kneaded the dough herself and topped it with green pepper pork topping. I heard this is your favorite noodle dish.”
There was no movement from under the quilt.
Liang Xin stood by the bed, waited a moment, rested the chopsticks on the noodle bowl, then walked to the head of the bed. Suddenly, she sensed something was wrong.
The quilt was trembling slightly.
She quickly tried to pull back the covers but couldn’t—the quilt was wrapped tightly around him.
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”
“……..Don’t come near.”
The voice seemed squeezed through clenched teeth. Liang Xin immediately recalled what Brother Ma had said. She hurried to the other side of the bed, forcefully pulled back a corner of the quilt, and through the gap saw his soaked black hair.
“Where’s the pain medication?”
The quilt shook even more violently, as if he was enduring pain too severe to speak.
Liang Xin rushed downstairs and called out from the staircase: “Mom, where’s Chongfeng’s pain medication?”
Soon the first floor was brightly lit, and the whole family gathered in the wedding chamber.
Xiao Shi stayed at the government dormitory at night. The guard and Chief Lu both tried with all their strength but couldn’t pull back Lu Zewei’s quilt, sweating profusely with anxiety.
Hu Fenglian held tablets and a teacup, alternating between scolding Chief Lu and her son while choking back sobs.
“Xiao Wei, go get the security department.” Chief Lu then stopped him. “Call the hospital directly. Have them send an ambulance.”
“Wait.”
Liang Xin stopped the guard from running out and looked at the two elders. “You should go rest. I know what medication he needs. Leave this to me.”
Chief Lu looked at Liang Xin in surprise.
Hu Fenglian was also slightly taken aback. “Liang Xin, this…how can you handle this alone? Besides, Chongfeng’s condition is different from others. Before…he even banged his head against the wall. I’m afraid…what if he hurts you again?”
“Let me handle it first. If it doesn’t work, we’ll call the hospital.”
Liang Xin finally managed to persuade the family to leave and closed the door.
She walked to the bedside, sat down, picked up the nearly soggy green pepper pork hand-pulled noodles, and began eating bite after bite, deliberately making loud slurping sounds.
After a few bites, there came the sound of difficult movement from the bed.
Liang Xin continued noisily slurping the noodles, chewing with audible smacks.
“You…” Lu Zewei revealed a pair of eyes. Seeing the scene outside the quilt, his pitch-black pupils visibly trembled several times. He squeezed out words through gritted teeth, “You…not even pretending…”
“I think you’re right.”
The needle-sharp frown between Lu Zewei’s brows suddenly relaxed slightly.
For a moment, it seemed even the splitting headache and unbearable heart pain from earlier had paused.
He watched Liang Xin eating the noodles. “What did you say?”
“I said, you’re right.”
Liang Xin put the remaining half-bowl of noodles back on the bedside table and turned to look at him. “Want to hear more? Take your medicine first.”
Lu Zewei’s brows furrowed into needle-sharp lines again. “You’re scheming against me again.”
“If you’re in pain, take medicine. Otherwise, while you might not see any difference on the outside now, by the time you can see it, the pain will have slowly eaten away at your body. When the opportunity you want finally comes, you’ll be willing but unable. Then this illness will truly become incurable, and you’ll be a complete invalid forever.”
“This medicine is useless.”
Lu Zewei was speaking fluently when he suddenly realized the pain seemed to be subsiding, which astonished him greatly.
Ever since developing unexplained headaches and heart pains that defied diagnosis, each episode would persist for at least half a day even after taking painkillers before showing any improvement. Even when the pain eased, it felt like having survived death itself—leaving him utterly exhausted and requiring prolonged recovery before he could communicate normally.
This time, from onset to relief had only been a few hours… Remarkably, the pain had begun receding ever since Liang Xin started speaking.
Liang Xin extended the pills toward Lu Zewei, ignoring his chapped, pale lips tinged with blood. “Do you need help sitting up?”
Lu Zewei’s damp, disheveled bangs clung to his forehead, beads of sweat tracing from his jawline to his neck. His body felt completely drained of strength.
But remembering the label of “being incompetent”…
Lu Zewei forced his weakened body upright, moving slowly and with great effort.
During the struggle to sit up, he privately began agreeing with Liang Xin’s earlier remarks. After each episode, while surface symptoms weren’t immediately obvious, he could indeed detect subtle signs of progressive weakness—like now, when he even entertained the illusion of being completely bedridden by illness.
Leaning against the headboard, Lu Zewei’s face remained deathly pale, more blood seeping from his chapped lips. The white shirt clinging to his chest was thoroughly drenched, as if freshly pulled from water.
The mere act of sitting up had left him in such a wretched state—the “incompetent” label seemed impossible to shake.
He reached out to take the pills.
Liang Xin withdrew her hand.
Lu Zewei: “?”
Noticing his pallid complexion now carried an abnormal flush, Liang Xin directly pressed her hand to his forehead. The skin burned to the touch. “You’re running a fever. Did you catch chill from sweating, or did you dress too lightly when going out today?”