Inside the office hall of the Hongxing Commune’s Armed Forces Department, low-quality honeycomb briquettes hissed in the stove, spewing black smoke. Yet, the room remained as cold as an icebox.
Director Wang stood in front of a long executive desk, his hands pinned neatly along the seams of his trousers as cold sweat trickled down his forehead.
He stole a covert glance at the man seated in the grand armchair.
The man wore a dark-green military overcoat devoid of any rank insignia. His collar was propped open, exposing a section of bronzed neck. Broad-shouldered and straight-backed, he sat impeccably erect. His right index finger tapped the tabletop rhythmically, each strike producing a dull, oppressive thud.
Zhou Jiting—Special Reconnaissance Brigade, Jinling Military Region.
Director Wang had heard the name during a meeting at the county level. The man was a notorious “Living King of Hell” in the military: resolute, swift, and utterly uncompromising.
“Commander Zhou, what an unfortunate coincidence. The commune’s anti-espionage and fire prevention reports haven’t been fully compiled today.” Director Wang swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly.
Zhou Jiting did not look up, his gaze anchored on a thick stack of personnel rosters. “Not compiled yet?” His voice was deep, laced with unquestionable authority.
“Yes, yes. The Youth Office and the Armed Forces Department have been tied up with winter defense prep these past couple of days. We’re simply short on hands.” Secretary Li rushed over from the side with a cup of hot water, his face plastered with a flattering smile. “Commander Zhou, have some hot water first to warm up. We’ll go press them right away.”
Zhou Jiting didn’t take the cup. His long fingers lightly stroked the edge of the roster.
“Hongxing Commune: seventeen production brigades, six thousand four hundred and twenty-one people.” Zhou Jiting spoke in a flat tone, yet every word set Director Wang’s heart hammering. “Winter defense directly impacts the security of the Military Region’s rear line. Is this how the Commune Party Committee slacks off?”
Director Wang’s legs went weak; he nearly buckled. “Commander Zhou, we are definitely not slacking off! We will rectify this overnight!”
Secretary Li was equally pale, standing aside and barely daring to breathe. Before this Living King of Hell, their usual bureaucratic arrogance evaporated into thin air, leaving them feeling as though a mountain were pressing down on their heads.
Zhou Jiting’s fingers flipped through the roster. His movements were unhurried, examining each page meticulously. Suddenly, his finger halted on a specific entry.
In the name column, three characters were written: Lin Wanshuang.
The job position listed beside it read: Sales Clerk, Hongxing Commune Supply and Marketing Co-op.
Zhou Jiting’s dark, intense eyes flickered. His gaze lingered on those three characters for about five seconds. His left hand stirred inside his overcoat pocket, where a slightly melted White Rabbit creamy candy resided. The hardened corner of the wrapper pricked against his fingertip.
A subtle shift crossed his expression. His harsh, sharp facial features seemed to soften for a fraction of a second, but it reverted instantly back to that cold, distant demeanor.
Director Wang had been monitoring Zhou Jiting’s expression closely. Seeing him stop, his heart leaped into his throat. “Commander Zhou, is there a problem with that page?”
“Lin Wanshuang. How long has this person been at this post?” Zhou Jiting raised his head, his gaze sharp as lightning.
Director Wang froze, his mind racing. “This… she’s a girl from Lin Family Village. She’s worked at the co-op for about two years now. Quite a solid worker.”
“Solid?” Zhou Jiting let out a cold snort and snapped the roster shut. “I didn’t come today to hear you report on work attitudes.”
“Yes, yes, you’re absolutely right,” Director Wang chimed in, wiping away cold sweat.
“Bring me the supply and inventory ledgers for the Supply and Marketing Co-op from the past six months.” Zhou Jiting stood up, buttoning his military overcoat.
“Well… the co-op’s ledgers are kept at their own counter. The commune only holds the summary totals,” Secretary Li interjected awkwardly.
Zhou Jiting adjusted his cuffs, looking at him expressionlessly. “Then go get them.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
Zhou Jiting took a stride with his long legs and headed straight for the main door. Director Wang and Secretary Li exchanged glances, sheer panic reflected in both their eyes. This Living King of Hell really acted like a storm—he didn’t leave a single breathing room.
Meanwhile, outside the commune compound.
Zhao Cuifeng was dragging Lin Baozong, rushing frantically toward the mail room.
“Baozong, walk faster! My eyelid keeps twitching; I feel like something bad’s gonna happen.” Zhao Cuifeng clutched her chest, where the signed transfer agreement was pressed tightly against her heart.
“Mom, what’s the rush? The commune isn’t going anywhere,” Lin Baozong said, pulling his neck into his collar and exhaling clouds of white vapor.
“What the hell do you know?! We have to get this stamped today! If we’re late, that job of yours will fly out the window!” Zhao Cuifeng glared at him, accelerating her pace even further.
Just as the two reached the steps of the commune building, they saw two men in cadre uniforms—one tall, one short—walking out toward them.
The man leading the way was tall and imposing. His coat collar was turned up, hiding his face, but his presence was overwhelmingly intense. Director Wang and Secretary Li followed behind like subservient lackeys, treading with extreme caution.
Zhao Cuifeng’s eyes lit up. She immediately grabbed Lin Baozong and hurried over to intercept them.
“Oh, Director Wang! On a snowy day like this, where are you headed?”
Director Wang was already stressing over how to deal with Zhou Jiting. Being blocked out of nowhere by Zhao Cuifeng made his face instantly darken. “Zhao Cuifeng? What are you doing at the commune instead of staying in your village?”
Zhao Cuifeng beamed with smiles, pushing Lin Baozong forward. “Director Wang, it’s like this. My eldest girl, Lin Wanshuang, voluntarily gave up her job at the co-op to her younger brother, Baozong.” As she spoke, she frantically pulled the transfer agreement out from her chest pocket. “Look, we’ve written up the agreement and stamped it with her thumbprint. All we need now is a stamp from the commune.”
Lin Baozong puffed out his chest, nodding at Director Wang with what he thought was dignified politeness. “Director Wang, I’ll be an employee at the co-op from now on. Please take good care of me.”
Hearing this, Director Wang’s temples throbbed violently. This Zhao Cuifeng is truly blind! Can’t she see the Military Region’s Living King of Hell standing right next to us? Trying to pull off a job transfer at a time like this—isn’t she just walking into a trap?
“Nonsense!” Director Wang barked in a low voice. “Job transfers at the commune follow proper procedures! We’re not handling this today. Come back another day!”
Zhao Cuifeng was stunned, unwilling to back down. “Director Wang, how can we wait for another day? My eldest girl is handing over the job this afternoon. If we don’t get the stamp, how is Baozong supposed to go to work tomorrow?” As she spoke, she shoved the yellowed piece of coarse paper right in front of Director Wang’s face.
Zhou Jiting halted his steps. His eyes fell on the paper in Zhao Cuifeng’s hands.
Despite the distance, his exceptional eyesight allowed him to read the handwriting clearly. The ink looked fresh, but the color in certain areas appeared slightly odd—tinged with a subtle trace of blue.
His eyebrows furrowed slightly.
Seeing Zhou Jiting stop, Director Wang panicked even more. He shoved Zhao Cuifeng’s hand away. “Take it back! The commune has an important task today; we’re not handling personal matters!”
“Director Wang, how can this be a personal matter? This is—”
Zhao Cuifeng tried to persist, but Zhou Jiting cut her off coldly.
“What kind of handwriting is this?”
Zhou Jiting didn’t speak loudly, yet his voice instantly brought silence to everyone present.
Looking at the towering soldier, Zhao Cuifeng felt an inexplicable dread wash over her. She shrank her neck back slightly. “This… this is my eldest girl’s handwritten name, Lin Wanshuang.”
Zhou Jiting stared at the paper, his gaze deep and unreadable.
Under the buffeting cold wind, the writing on the paper seemed to have faded just a tiny fraction compared to a moment ago. Unless someone regularly dealt with chemical reagents, they would never notice such a subtle change.
But Zhou Jiting belonged to the Special Reconnaissance Brigade; he was exceptionally sensitive to such details. A faint, secretive curl formed at the corner of his lips before his face reverted to its cold, rigid mask.
“Written by Lin Wanshuang?”
“Yes, yes, yes! She wrote it herself!” Thinking this military officer was helping her out, Zhao Cuifeng hurriedly pushed the paper closer. “Chief, look! Her name and thumbprint are right here. It’s genuine!”
Zhou Jiting didn’t take the paper. He simply withdrew his cold gaze.
“The commune’s seal cannot be stamped carelessly.” Leaving those words behind, he took a step forward and headed straight for the outer gates.
As if granted a royal pardon, Director Wang pointed at Zhao Cuifeng and warned her in a harsh whisper, “Did you hear that? The chief has spoken! Get out of here quickly and stop causing trouble!”
With that, he trotted off to catch up with Zhou Jiting.
Standing in the snow, Zhao Cuifeng watched their departing figures, stomping her feet in anger. “Bah! What kind of chief puts on such grand airs!”
“Mom, are we still getting the stamp or not?” Lin Baozong asked, feeling deflated.
“Of course we are! Why wouldn’t we?!” Zhao Cuifeng gritted her teeth, glaring at the transfer agreement in her hands. “Director Wang and the others must be heading to the Supply and Marketing Co-op. We’ll follow them and corner him there!”
She stuffed the paper back into her coat pocket, grabbed Lin Baozong, and sprinted toward the co-op.
The wind and snow grew heavier, the accumulated snow on the main road now covering their ankles.
Zhou Jiting walked ahead, his leather boots leaving deep footprints in the snow. Director Wang followed behind, his heart pounding like a drum.
“Commander Zhou, the co-op’s accounts are usually audited uniformly by the county. Today, we…”
“The Military Region’s winter defense inspects the flow of supplies.” Zhou Jiting didn’t even turn his head, his voice as cold as a stone dropped into ice. “At the co-op, you will audit every single item for me—down to a single needle.”