Chapter 881

A peaceful night.

Lans knew that if General Diaz didn't call him, this person would be even greedier.

If General Diaz were not a greedy person, then he would most likely have had the things sent back instead of keeping them.

As long as he kept them, he was definitely not some moral saint.

In fact, where are there any moral saints in this world? The more glamorous they are, the more terrifying the filth in their hearts is compared to what people imagine.

Some people's evil is on the surface; perhaps he bullies people, robs, or does some bad things.

Some people's evil is in their bones, in places people cannot see.

Their evil has evolved to the level of "wickedness."

What kind of person General Diaz was, Lans didn't know yet, but he would find out.

That he didn't call him about the model meant that this money could still move him.

When the morning sun shone into the room through the gaps in the curtains, Lans slowly opened his eyes.

It was six o'clock.

Summer days break earlier. Reason told him he should crawl out of this damn bed with its sealing properties, go clean himself up, and then go out for exercise until he returned before breakfast.

But his body told him he couldn't do it.

He changed positions and dozed off again—really just for a moment—but by the time he opened his eyes properly, it was already nearly seven o'clock.

It was definitely too late to go exercise now. He got up and went to the window, pulled back the curtains, and let the sunlight outside spill in.

Bathed in the sunlight, he stretched; it was another sunny and beautiful day.

After a simple wash, he arrived in the dining room.

Because of safety concerns, Emily and Patricia remained at the Lawrence farm, and William had already gone to Hucheng. There was no one left here, only Lans.

The breakfast was made by a hired cook who was said to have worked for imperial nobles.

Don't look at her as if she were forty or fifty years old; she was absolutely a master at her work!

Lans sat at the dining table and picked up today's newspapers, which were arranged in order according to his habits and preferences for reading them.

This was done by the butler.

Lans picked up the top one, "Jingang Today," and was quickly drawn to the front-page headline.

"The Working Class Is Not a Bargaining Chip for Power," a very attractive title.

He roughly knew what it was about, then shook out the newspaper and began to read it earnestly.

Aoge was dead.

That skilled tailor from the Labor Union who had participated in the strike at the garment factory, he was dead.

Because his leg lacked follow-up treatment—mainly because he had no money and couldn't afford to cooperate with the hospital to continue his treatment—a series of serious problems had already appeared.

The pain tormented him constantly, to the point where he didn't know if it was his leg that was hurting or his soul; he could only continue to increase the dosage of painkillers.

He had been tortured into a wreck by painkillers and pain, sitting slumped in a wheelchair all day.

Actually, he could move, but he had already given up struggling.

In July, just a few days ago, the hospital came to find him to demand the installment payment for this month, and he couldn't come up with it.

After the bank people left, his wife secretly followed them and paid the first installment.

What she didn't know was that Aoge subsequently tried every possible way and actually managed to get the money for the first installment.

Selling blood and borrowing money from former coworkers.

Then he found the hospital, saying he wanted to give them the money, but their staff told him that last month's money had already been paid.

This made Aoge very suspicious. He confirmed it with the staff repeatedly and even found the person who contacted him, only to learn that it was his wife who had helped him pay the June installment.

A woman, where would she get such a sum of money?

For rich people, a few dozen dollars might just be an inadvertent small expense, but for ordinary people, this was wealth they couldn't necessarily save even by eating and using less for a month.

Now, his wife had actually given it so easily?

Countless thoughts swirled in his mind. He returned home, sat in the living room, and waited silently.

In the evening, his wife pushed the door open carrying a vegetable basket. Seeing Aoge sitting directly facing the gate, she was a bit surprised, but soon she smiled and lifted the basket in her hand, "I bought some beef mince and onions today, and a tomato."

"We can boil some tomato beef soup to drink. Isn't it your favorite?"

Aoge didn't speak, just stared at his wife. It was only then that he noticed his wife's complexion had become much better, and... in her every gesture, she seemed to have become confident.

He didn't know what had caused all this, but he knew something must have happened to his wife.

He sat there, staring at his wife the whole time. Unable to stand being stared at, she turned to look at Aoge, "What's wrong?"

"Is there something wrong with me?" she asked somewhat unnaturally.

Aoge tilted his head, and waves of pain surged out from his body, as if they had discovered his current angry mood and started to flare up suddenly!

In silence, he took out the small bottle of painkillers, took three pills from it, and with a slightly trembling palm, stuffed the three tablets into his mouth and chewed them forcefully.

He supported himself on the armrests of the wheelchair with both hands, leaning his body slightly forward, head down; his body was trembling from the pain.

"The doctor said if you keep abusing painkillers like this, you'll only become more dependent on them!"

His wife's words made him lift his head. Behind his disheveled hair was one eye peeking out—an eye filled with suspicion, pain, and anger.

"They said you paid last month's money."

His wife was silent for a while, "Yes, I paid."

"Where did the money come from?" He stared tightly at his wife's expression and eyes, wanting to see how she would lie.

She was indeed a bit unsure of how to answer this question, although she had thought about it many times—that she would be discovered and how to respond.

But when this moment really arrived, she didn't know what to say or how to say it.

Everything she had thought of beforehand became meaningless.

"I earned it from work," she said.

Aoge didn't believe it at all.

"You, a housewife who can't do anything, can earn dozens of dollars a month?"

"And our food has been good this month too. How could you earn so much money?"

His eyeballs were tinged with red; that was caused by blood congestion.

"I do housework for rich families." In his urgency, she decided to use the strategy she had thought of before; she said the lines she had prepared.

She was a housewife; what she was best at was housework. So, it was very reasonable that a rich person would need such a maid.

But Aoge still didn't believe it. The two stared at each other through his hair.

Perhaps seeing the unwavering and unevasive firmness in his wife's eyes, he became slightly uncertain.

"You're not lying?"

His wife's voice grew louder. She discovered that her husband seemed to be starting to show weakness, so subconsciously, her voice grew louder, "You actually don't believe me!"

Aoge shook his head, "You'd better not lie to me!"

After saying this, he pushed his wheelchair back to his room, while his wife continued to handle everything on the stove.

Dinner was the best dinner in a long time: tomato, onion, and beef thick soup. The onions and tomatoes were completely dissolved in the soup, and Aoge's wife had added some wheat flour to make it look a bit thick.

Every spoonful was filled with a large amount of beef mince. Whether drinking it directly, eating it, or dipping bread rolls into it, it was the best choice!

The family sat together to enjoy dinner just like in the past. The daughter was surprised by the sumptuous dinner, "Do we have money again?"

She looked at her father with eyes full of expectation, "Did you find a job?"

Aoge's mouth twitched, and he lowered his head, scooped up a spoonful of soup, and put it into his mouth.

The girl looked at her mother in confusion, but her mother just shook her head slightly.

Although the food tonight was excellent, it was also a dull dinner.

All night, neither husband nor wife spoke; both were thinking about their own worries.

The next morning, Aoge felt that his wife had already left, and he soon got out of bed too.

He knew it would be very difficult for him to find his wife, so he sought help from a reporter.

This was all a pre-arranged script. The reporter certainly wouldn't let go of this important news material. He drove the car and took Aoge to follow his wife.

Not long after, they saw his wife change into a set of clothes in a small hotel and then return to the street.

At this moment, Aoge completely fell apart.

He saw a man shorter than his wife wrap his arm around her waist and go into a nearby hotel.

At this moment, he wanted to rush up, but just as he intended to do so, the reporter in the driver's seat suddenly asked, "Do you want to stop her?"

Aoge looked at the reporter, very hurt. At this time, he already realized that perhaps from the very beginning, it was a "trap." He had entered the trap and was sinking deeper and deeper.

The look in his eyes as he watched the reporter also carried a sense of violence after being hurt, but the reporter wasn't afraid of him and kept staring into his eyes through the rearview mirror.

"Have you thought about it? If you stop her, how will the installment to the hospital be paid this month?"

"Even if you have money in your hand, how will next month's money be paid?"

"Do you want your whole family to be kicked out onto the street?"

"Think about your daughter, think about how her life has just begun!"

As he spoke, a mocking expression appeared on the reporter's face. He stared at Aoge's eyes through the rearview mirror, "What about your painkillers?"

"You didn't forget on purpose, did you?"

"The painkillers you are taking now are all bought with money your wife earned."

"If you go and stop her, everything you finally have left will come to an end."

The reporter's words deeply stung Aoge's heart. His hand pressed against the back of the front seat, his other hand clutching the clothes on his chest, and he breathed heavily with a pale face.

The reporter, however, had no pity for this man, "If you really want to stop her, then quit the painkillers."

The reporter felt that if he could quit the painkillers through personal perseverance, this could also be reported as news: in adversity and despair, through personal perseverance, standing up again.

People would like this story; it might be a bit too idealized, but... at least it would give people an inspiring power.

Soon he drove away from here and returned to the home that no longer belonged to Aoge.

I don't know if the previous stimulation was too intense, but he started to feel his body hurting again. Just as he took out the bottle of painkillers, he thought of the words the reporter had said.

He gritted his teeth, originally intending to throw the bottle away, but for some reason, he suddenly abandoned this idea.

After all, it was bought with money. He put the bottle of painkillers into his pants pocket.

He glanced sideways at the reporter, as if telling the other party that he could endure it.

The reporter just smiled in response. He had checked the data; people who become dependent on abusing painkillers can indeed quit, but not many.

At this time, Aoge couldn't care about these things anymore; he began to fight against the pain constantly coming from his body.

Even breathing, he could feel the pain generated when his lung lobes rubbed against other parts of his body; it was so clear!

He started to sweat. He just made a clenching motion, and the stinging pain instantly generated in his finger joints made him shiver and open his palm, not daring to exert force again!

He could clearly feel the pain brought by the friction between bones; it was too painful!

His body was trembling slightly, but even if he did nothing, he was still in pain!

His femoral head was in pain, his spine was in pain; there was almost no place on his body that wasn't in pain; it was too painful!

Subconsciously, he wanted to take a small pill, but he caught a glimpse of the reporter's mocking expression. He gritted his teeth and continued to endure in the intense pain!

I don't know how much time had passed. He thought this kind of pain was only periodic, but now it seemed he was wrong.

This kind of pain was always continuous. He didn't know when it would end; perhaps the next second, but perhaps it would never end!

Even breathing started to produce a burning sensation; he couldn't stand it anymore!

Enduring the intense pain, he took out the small medicine bottle, shook out four small tablets, and stuffed them into his mouth.

Five minutes later, he felt as if he had returned from hell to the human world. Just not being in pain—it was so comfortable!

If he knew some bakery owner who had already lost his human form, they would definitely have a common language.

After being comfortable for a while, he fell into deep self-blame and regret again. Why, why couldn't he hold on?

Perhaps everything would have gotten better in the next second, but why couldn't he hold on?

He slapped himself in the face and then sat there blankly.

Before he had the ability to solve the painkiller problem, he really seemed unable to stop his wife from streetwalking, because without this income, he couldn't even afford the painkillers.

However, he believed that everything would get better. As soon as his leg injury healed, he would go find a job, so his wife wouldn't need to streetwalk.

In the evening, Aoge's wife brought back some good food again. Aoge almost opened his mouth several times, but in the end, he held back.

The family finished dinner in a dull atmosphere again. Aoge went to sleep early; he felt he was a clown and hated himself. He couldn't face his wife.

Whether because of anger or guilt, it was impossible!

For several days in a row, Aoge had begun to gradually accept the result: his wife had become a prostitute.

He heard from the reporter that his wife could earn at least a dozen dollars a day, which surprised him, but at the same time, he seemed to be able to barely accept his wife engaging in this job.

After all, the money those johns gave was really a lot.

If nothing unexpected happened, perhaps next month, or the month after, he would be able to accept all this, but an accident still happened.

In the afternoon, his wife ran back from outside and then locked herself behind the door without saying a word.

Immediately after, his good friend brought two people and came to find him. As soon as they saw Aoge, they said loudly, "Do you know?"

"Your wife is streetwalking!"

The old-fashioned apartment didn't have very good soundproofing measures. Soon, the people next door knew about this. They poked their heads out, listening to what was happening here in the hallway.

At this time, his ears were buzzing; he could only see his friend talking there, but couldn't hear a sound.

Soon the few people left, but outside the door were pairs of eyes looking in and their meaningful gazes.

He even saw the smiles on the faces of several middle-aged and elderly neighbors as if something was about to succeed!

A man, his little remaining dignity, was fiercely thrown to the ground and rubbed back and forth.

In the evening, after his daughter returned, she also learned about this. Facing his daughter's questioning, he lost his temper, but this also made his daughter run out; she couldn't accept this!

Her mother had become a streetwalker. Tomorrow the whole school would know. She could even imagine those bad boys potentially going to find her mother for a transaction and then using that to humiliate her!

She couldn't stand this; she was going to run away from home!

Aoge and his wife had a fierce argument. Soon his wife also left home, leaving him alone, sitting blankly in the wheelchair in the living room.

The empty home was like his empty heart. He covered his eyes with his forehead and burst into tears...

Everything was only one step away from the final sublimation!

The reporter dialed the editor-in-chief's number, then he temporarily left Aoge's room and came to the street downstairs.

He smoked a cigarette and watched several unusual men enter the apartment building. About seven or eight minutes later, accompanied by the dull thud of a heavy object hitting the ground, Aoge appeared before him in another way!

All of this was faithfully published in the newspaper by the reporters. Of course, they didn't mention that someone had helped Aoge finish the last leg of his journey.

After reading the whole report, Lans sighed lightly; he could be considered a loser.

Who was bad to offend, but he offended him?

Lans could predict that this report would shake the entire federal working class!

They regarded certain people as the same class, as worker brothers.

But those people only regarded them as bargaining chips for power!

(End of chapter)