Chapter Eighty-Seven: Blood and Tears

Chapter Eighty-Seven: Tears of Blood

On the side.

Bai Zeshao watched the scene unfold. Though his heart was heavy with sorrow, if Ye Weitian truly did something to harm the party, he would not hesitate. This was the duty and commitment of a Red Party member.

Was Ye Weitian not a steadfast Red Party man? He was. Even under the cruelest torture at the hands of the enemy, he had not compromised, had shown not an ounce of cowardice, and had remained resolute throughout.

Yet, when forced to witness his wife and child brutally killed before his eyes, Ye Weitian chose to yield. He could not bear to watch such horror unfold. It could only be said that the enemy’s methods were too despicable.

Red Party members were human, too. As humans, they had feelings, desires, and emotions. Most Red Party members, when faced with the choice between faith and feeling, chose faith. A few, however, chose emotion.

Neither choice was wrong; the misfortune was only to be born in such a war-torn era, in a country so fractured and divided.

Bai Zeshao wondered what choice he would make if he were in Ye Weitian’s place. Perhaps he would fare even worse than Ye Weitian, or perhaps he would stand by and watch it all unfold with his own eyes.

But all this was hypothetical. For now, all his attention was fixed on Ye Weitian.

“Go on, say what you have to say,” Liu Xiaobing withdrew his hand, smiling, seemingly in very good spirits.

“My name is Ye Weitian. I am the second-in-command of the Shanning Red Party,” Ye Weitian replied, his head bowed. His voice, low and hoarse, echoed hauntingly in the dim interrogation room.

Liu Xiaobing nodded in satisfaction, while Bai Zeshao’s fingers tightened around his gun.

“Very good. Someone, let him down,” Liu Xiaobing ordered.

But once released, Ye Weitian sat silently, unmoving as a statue, so still he seemed dead.

“Since you’ve chosen to speak, there’s no need to hold back any longer. No point in hiding anything now. After all, you’ve chosen to betray us—why not betray us completely? Consider it your token of loyalty,” Liu Xiaobing sneered, offering his “advice” lightly.

In the gloom, Ye Weitian’s shoulders trembled faintly, but still he said nothing.

“What’s wrong? Regretting it? It’s too late for that now. Either you talk, or she dies,” Liu Xiaobing said coldly. At some unknown moment, his revolver was once again pressed against the woman’s head.

“You bastard!” Ye Weitian, sitting on the bench, suddenly erupted, lunging at Liu Xiaobing with a raised fist. He was fast, but the guards were faster; after just two steps, Ye Weitian was seized.

Liu Xiaobing, startled by Ye Weitian’s sudden outburst, instinctively retreated a step in the dimness, stumbling over something on the floor. He nearly fell, and in his haste, his finger squeezed the trigger of the revolver.

Bang!

At point-blank range, the woman’s head was shattered by the bullet. She stared, stunned, before slumping to the ground, black and white brain matter splattering everywhere.

Everyone was stunned by this sudden act of violence. Bai Zeshao felt something cool on his face, and when he wiped it, his hand was stained with blood, still warm.

Waaah!

Ye Weitian’s son, beside him, saw his mother’s brutal end and burst into tears, his wailing snapping everyone back to their senses.

Liu Xiaobing himself was taken aback; he had not intended to really kill Ye Weitian’s wife at that moment. With a hostage in hand, Ye Weitian would talk; without one, he would likely be defiant to the end.

“No!” Ye Weitian’s anguished, grief-stricken scream echoed through the interrogation room, piercing the air like a nightingale singing in blood, shaking everyone to their core.

In Bai Zeshao’s incredulous gaze, two clear streams of blood trickled from Ye Weitian’s eyes, bright red tears coursing down his cheeks.

At that sight, Bai Zeshao felt as if his heart had been seized in a vice, the pain almost suffocating. The oppressive atmosphere was almost unbearable.

At this moment, Liu Xiaobing, having collected himself, glanced at the woman’s corpse. Though it had not been intentional, what was done was done, and there was nothing to be done about it.

As for Ye Weitian’s tears of blood, Liu Xiaobing was unmoved. Instead, he turned to Bai Zeshao. “Xiao Bai, I must admit, you’re impressive. You won our little wager just now. You guessed right—the bullet was real. At first, I considered using a fake one, but I figured the real thing would be more exciting.”

“I won?” Bai Zeshao looked at the woman lying on the floor, a bitter, self-mocking smile on his lips. “If this is what winning looks like, I’d rather have lost. It would have been better.”

“Is that so?” Liu Xiaobing replied indifferently, then turned to Ye Weitian. “Continue.”

Ye Weitian lifted his head, looking at Liu Xiaobing with eyes full of coldness, murderous intent, emptiness, and hatred. Liu Xiaobing was so unnerved by Ye Weitian’s gaze that he resolved, once this man was of no further use, he must be killed. He would never feel safe otherwise.

“I’ll talk. But I hope you’ll let my son go,” Ye Weitian said, turning his gaze away.

“Of course. No problem. You heard our wager just now—he’s just a child. I’m not so cruel as to harm him,” Liu Xiaobing replied with an awkward smile.

The guards beside Ye Weitian, hearing his words, felt a wave of relief. They had seen many horrors, but never before had they witnessed someone weep tears of blood. It had truly given them a fright.

Fortunately, he had finally yielded.

Yet Bai Zeshao, who was watching Ye Weitian closely, noticed something amiss. Though Ye Weitian was promising to talk, his legs under the table were slowly shifting—he was preparing to spring.

Before Bai Zeshao could react, Ye Weitian suddenly lunged forward, both feet pushing him off the ground—his target: Bai Zeshao himself, standing in front of Liu Xiaobing.

Bai Zeshao felt a sharp pain in his lower abdomen as he was struck, and his pistol was snatched from his belt. As he tried to fight back, he heard Ye Weitian’s whisper in his ear: “Take care of my son.”

Bang! Bang!

Ye Weitian, sprawled against Bai Zeshao, fired several shots. Under Bai Zeshao’s stunned gaze, he slowly slumped into Bai Zeshao’s arms, his eyes reflecting a trace of release and helplessness.

“Xiao Bai, are you alright?” Liu Xiaobing rushed over, pulling Ye Weitian away as he anxiously checked on Bai Zeshao.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Bai Zeshao replied mechanically.

“That’s good,” Liu Xiaobing sighed in relief. He saw Bai Zeshao still gripping the smoking gun in his right hand, while Ye Weitian lay motionless on the ground, his chest riddled with bullet holes, blood still gushing forth.