Chapter 13

County Public Security Bureau.

“You’re telling me a sixteen-year-old kid beat you all up like this?” the registering officer glanced sideways at them.

Zhao Daqing handed him a cigarette and said, “Yeah, I waited a whole week for him to come apologize. Not a single sign of him. With the New Year coming, look at my darkened eyes—I don’t even have the face to go outside.”

His cousin, with a fractured tailbone, was pushed from the hospital bed to the police station. He had just sat up when a wave of pain made him groan and lie back down, cursing, “This isn’t over between me and him!”

The officer bent over his notes. “Who threw the first punch?”

The young man said, “He did. He pushed me first.”

Zhao Daqing sat quietly. After all, he had connections with the county party committee—there was no way he’d be beaten without cause. Su Liuhe was just refusing a toast only to be forced to drink.

In the days prior, he had been hoping Su Liuhe would come to apologize.

At that time, he wasn’t so angry, thinking of letting them off since it wasn’t him who was injured. When Su Liuhe married into the county town, things would settle. He could forbid her from seeing that kid again.

After waiting two more days, unable to bear it, he sent someone to talk some sense.

But to his surprise, two groups sent over to negotiate were driven away by Su Liuhe and Gu Yiren, who even threatened to beat anyone who showed up.

He couldn’t sit still any longer. He brought his cousin directly from the hospital to register the injury and file the complaint simultaneously.

He even tried to use connections, but the contact coincidentally wasn’t available and told him to file the report first.

Zhao Daqing was the influential director of the county grain and oil station, always smiling wherever he went. He had never been so humiliated.

After the police finished questioning, they told them to go home and wait for further notice.

Zhao Daqing returned to the hospital with his cousin and settled him back into bed. His father, Zhao Jiefang, came over from the county party committee.

The old man, a veteran intellectual, boldly wore a red armband, having toppled his former teachers and classmates to thrive in the party committee office’s secretarial section—a far cry from his previous role in school logistics.

The county was full of petty schemers; many local affairs required insiders. Over time, Zhao had become the ever-present secretary.

“For a woman, look at the big mess you’ve made,” Zhao Jiefang said, closing the door and pointing at Zhao Daqing. “You finally got the director position at the grain station, many eyes are watching. How can you have no backbone and bring trouble to me?”

Zhao Daqing replied, “I just want you to hold your grandson sooner.”

His cousin was about to argue, but Zhao Jiefang shouted, “Shut up!”

The cousin was left speechless—no need for such anger.

Zhao Daqing whispered, “He’s been beaten till he broke a bone. We’re just filing a case, not trying to stir up more trouble.”

The old man paced the room, hands behind his back.

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