Liu Yanzhi turned off the car, got out of the car and opened the rear door, stood straight behind the door, waiting for the leader to get off.

Zheng Zeru lit a cigarette and sat in the car for a long time. He was in a complicated mood. He searched and thought about what to say when he met later. However, any warm words and sincere repentance could not cover up his ruthlessness and cold bloody abandonment of his wife.

Dang Maiguo winked at Liu Yanzhi, who closed the car door, leaving time for the leader to think.

After a long time, Zheng Zeru finally came out of the car. He tidied up his appearance, walked to the door, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door gently. During the moment of waiting, countless past events came to his heart again. Zheng Zeru's eyes were a little wet, the door opened, revealing an ugly old woman's face, and he said a harsh voice: "Who are you looking for?"

Zheng Zeru was so scared that he took a step back. He hadn't seen him for eighteen years, so how did Hongyu become like this?

"You..." Zheng Zeru's voice trembled, "Are you okay?"

"Who are you?" The old woman rolled her eyes and spoke Jiangbei dialect. Zheng Zeru suddenly realized that this was not Hongyu. The real Hongyu was from Yangzhou. She has lived in Shanghai for many years and spoke Wudi and Shanghai-style official language. She also paid great attention to her image. She would take care of it cleanly even when she was at her worst and would never become such a dirty old woman.

"May I ask, does Wang Hongyu live here?" Zheng Zeru asked.

"Move away!" The old woman slammed the door and closed it.

Zheng Zeru was rejected and looked at the Party Patriotic with a wry smile.

Dang Aiguo nodded: "Xiao Liu, please understand the situation."

Liu Yanzhi stepped forward and smashed the door. The old woman suddenly opened the door: "Everything said, moved away!" Suddenly, she saw the five-pointed star and the red collar seal, and her arrogance suddenly weakened: "It's a comrade of the People's Liberation Army."

"The household registration address of Wang Hongyu and her son is here. Who are you and why do you live here!" Liu Yanzhi raised his face and asked sternly.

"This is the house that the street has allocated to us." The old woman defended her, "It's a waste for a family to live in such a big house. The street will take back the small building and share it with us four families. If you don't believe it, come in and see it."

As she opened the door, Liu Yan looked at it. The building that imitated Shanghai Shikumen was crowded, with four coal ball stoves, and all kinds of debris were piled up like mountains. The old woman did not lie, and at least a dozen people lived here.

"Auntie, then do you know where Wang Hongyu's family moved?" Dang Aiguo stepped forward and asked with a smile.

"Then I don't know, it's all arranged by the street. You can go to the street to find Director Zhang, she knows everything."

...

The group came to the street office and found Director Zhang, a capable woman in her forties, who told her purpose. Director Zhang was very pleased to lead them to find Wang Hongyu, and introduced the situation as he walked: "This Wang Hongyu is an old resident. She lived here before liberation. She was in her sixties, had no job, no wife, and had a son named Wang Beitai who taught in middle school. Recently, another relative came to the family. She was a thirteen or fourteen-year-old child. The family is quite honest and honest, without any extraordinary behavior, and no overseas relations. Our streets are very clear about it."

As I spoke, I arrived at the place. This was a large courtyard built near the river embankment. It was extremely cold in the winter morning. The ditches beside the road were frozen and the dirt road was frozen hard. Bicycles were driving on the road. The bells were bells. Passers-by looked at the high-end car with Beijing license plate in confusion, thinking about which leader was coming to inspect.

"Wang Hongyu lives here." Director Zhang took the lead in the yard, greeted the neighbors intimately, came to the door of a family, raised his hand and slapped the door: "Is Teacher Wang at home?"

The door opened, and a thin young man stood behind the door, black-framed glasses, blue cloth, and two pens were pinned in his pocket.

"Your guest is here." Director Zhang said, looking back at Zheng Zeru, "It's this old comrade."

The young man is Zheng Zeru's second son Wang Beitai. He should be twenty-nine years old this year. When he was a primary school student, King Chen Zikun of Jiangdong rebelled and Jiangdong Province was liberated peacefully. The army went south to cross the Huai River. His father left Jiangbei that year and went to the provincial capital to take office. On the day he left, his father touched his head and said that it would be one or two weeks earlier and one month later, and he would definitely come back to pick them up. Unexpectedly, this separation would last eighteen years.

The old man in front of him was vaguely his father's shadow, but he was old and weak, and the energetic and proud father in the newspaper was difficult to meet.

"Who are you?" Wang Beitai asked cautiously.

Zheng Zeru did not lose any ruthlessness. He introduced himself calmly: "My surname is Wang, and I am your father's friend. I will pass by Jiangbei to see you."

It’s not that he deliberately conceals it, but that years of experience in political struggles are at play. The party’s grassroots government’s street offices are all held by reliable personnel, and the people’s family affairs cannot escape their eyes. It’s better to keep a low profile in everything.

Wang Beitai hurriedly tested his body: "Please come in, the place at home is small, I'm laughing."

Zheng Zeru nodded and stepped into the door. Director Zheng was about to follow him, but Dang Aiguo called her: "Director Zhang, let's talk."

Wang Beitai's home is very small, only sixteen square meters, a room is divided into two halves, inside is his mother's bedroom, outside with a bed and desk. A young man was sitting at the table reading. When he turned his head and saw his father coming in, he couldn't help but be stunned.

A cough came from the inside, and Wang Beitai shouted: "Mom, the guest is here."

"Is it here to twist?" The familiar soft Wu dialed out loud. With the sound of a wooden bed squeaking, Wang Beitai lifted the curtain and saw a haggard woman lying on the bed, coughing once or twice from time to time.

With his eyes facing each other, Hongyu was not surprised at all, but said lightly: "Oh, you're back home."

In just one sentence, Zheng Ze's nerves as hard as steel could not help but collapsed instantly, and two lines of tears flowed silently down his cheeks. The residence of the minister in Beijing was his home, the villa at No. 1 Fenglin Road, Okinawa was his home, and the dilapidated bungalow in the slum slum cottage in Jiangbei City was the destination of his soul and the real home.

"Have you eaten? I'll put the noodles for you if I didn't eat it." Hongyu, who was terminally ill, forced to get out of bed. Wang Beitai went to support her, but she pushed her away. "Silly child, your father is back, why are you still standing there? Let's go and drink, our family is finally reunited."

"Mom..." Wang Beitai burst into tears. Fourteen-year-old Zheng Jief stood in the outer room, at a loss. He went to Beijing with his classmates last summer vacation and lived in his father's house for a while. Later, his father said that Beijing was not safe and Ori was not peaceful. He wrote a note and sent himself to his relatives' house in Jiangbei. The boy never thought that the person he called his aunt was actually his father's original wife.

Outside the slum, Director Zhang of the street office was a little restrained in a Volga sedan. She was sitting in a high-end car that only provincial and ministerial leaders were qualified to ride in for the first time. The People's Liberation Army cadres in front of her looked serious and seemed to have extremely important tasks arranged for herself, which made her even more intense.

"Director Zhang, how many years have you been with the Party?" asked Dang Aiguo.

"Twenty years have passed." Director Zhang replied proudly.

"Very good, you are a trustworthy comrade who has been inspected by the organization." Dang Paiguo nodded and took out a note from his briefcase with the head of the State Council of the People's Republic of China, with several lines of brush handwriting on it.

"Director Zhang, you must keep what I say next in mind. This is an important task assigned by the Party Central Committee, Chairman Mao and Premier Zhou himself." The Party said word by word.

Director Zhang felt that his heart was about to jump out. She forced herself to suppress her excitement and expressed her opinion on the spot: "Even if I die, I will complete the task resolutely!"

...

"Zheng Jeff, Zheng Jeff." A silver bell-like voice sounded, which was a standard Mandarin pronunciation that Jiangbei could not hear. Zheng Jeff turned around and saw a young PLA aunt waved to him, "Come with me."

The task assigned by the Party Patriotic Republic of Guan Lu is very simple. It is to make the ignorant boy "fall in love with" him in one day, at least to dilute Meng Xiaolin's impact on him. It is simple, but it is actually extremely difficult.

In 2017, Zheng Jief was a powerful vice-national leader. In 1967, he was just a junior high school student, confused about life and had a slight understanding of the opposite sex. The only thing that touched the boy's heart was last summer. Meng Xiaolin, the Russian tutor in white, who was dressed in white. First love was beautiful and irreplaceable. Guan Lu racked her brains and couldn't think of any way to complete the task.

Guan Lu stood outside the door, looking at the young PLA aunt timidly. Her waist was visible in the middle of winter, which was a bit different from the female soldiers he remembered. There were no down jackets and cashmere underwear in this era. Everyone wore bloated old cotton jackets, and the military uniform was mainly wide. The legs of the trouser legs could be tied to the pockets in front of him. Guan Lu only wore a sweater inside. The waist of the military coat was cleverly clamped with a clip to create a style of pinching the waist. In addition, a vibrant face that did not belong to this era can bring some freshness to the young man.

Similarly, Guan Lu was also looking at her target. Fourteen-year-old Zheng Jiefu had a clear nose on his face, a blue-gray cotton jacket, cotton pants and wool nests under him, a kind of wooden-soled warm shoes woven with straw ropes, and his hair was greasy. It was obvious that he hadn't taken a shower for a long time. Only his bright eyes and slightly rebellious eyes showed his identity as a senior official.

"Hello, my name is Guan Lu." Dr. Guan stretched out his hand and decided to let it go and which step he could do.

Zheng Jief shook hands with the female soldier, blinked, not understanding what was waiting for him.

"Let's go to the riverside." Guan Lu said, and before the boy could reply, he took his hand and walked out. Zheng Jief was beating enthusiastically. He was in adolescence. In this era when revolutionary struggle was put first, any contact between men and women was despised by everyone. The female soldier's hands were very delicate, his hair was black and shiny, and his body exuded a heroic temperament, which was completely different from Meng Xiaolin.

Many years later, when Zheng Jief thinks about it, he still feels that Mulan in his mind may be like this.
Chapter completed!