RYEY -Chapter 344 Wu Fan Is Dead

Cheng Limin was even more dumbfounded. He knew what his younger brother had been up to outside—this brother of his had always been fairly generous, bringing him a few small benefits every time he came back.

But he never imagined that the man would dare to sell his elder brother’s grandson. That took an outrageous amount of nerve. Still, hadn’t his elder brother only had one daughter? Could it be that he later had a son?

He glanced at Li Huan, yet felt the age didn’t match. Just as he was at a loss for how to ask, Li Huan’s face showed clear disgust.

“Dad, let’s go. Who does this dead old woman think she is? One foot already in the coffin and she still wants to fleece you—shameless old hag.”

The old woman was so enraged that she started coughing and wheezing. Listening to the coughing fit, one cough after another, and seeing how she almost couldn’t catch her breath, Li Huan grabbed Cheng Liguo and ran.

A villager rushed out and stopped Cheng Liguo, dropping to his knees in front of him.
“Brother Liguo, my son was also kidnapped. It seems this was the evil deed of Libao. Can you tell me where I might find my child?”

Cheng Liguo nodded, took out his fountain pen and paper, and wrote down the address of the Jin County Public Security Bureau along with Yang Jianguo’s name. He told him to go and check as soon as possible—and if the child wasn’t there, not to blame him.

The villager kowtowed repeatedly, thanking him over and over. In his heart, he had already decided that even if he couldn’t find his child, he wouldn’t blame Cheng Liguo—after all, the man had acted out of kindness.

Cheng Liguo was about to leave. Seeing the village head, Cheng, as if wanting to say something but then swallowing his words, Cheng Liguo couldn’t help squeezing Li Huan’s arm. After all, they had raised him—five hundred yuan as a buyout was far from enough to settle his conscience.

He took a thousand yuan from his pocket and handed it to Village Head Cheng.

“Village Head, I won’t come back here ever again. Consider this money my final act of filial piety. Please trouble yourself to send this old woman to the hospital.”

Village Head Cheng looked up at Cheng Liguo, nodded, and accepted the money. The old Cheng couple were blind—not just in their eyes, but in their hearts. They had cast aside a good son, yet kept the rotten and foul ones close.

“Don’t worry. I’ll have someone take Third Brother’s wife to the hospital. I won’t let Cheng Limin interfere in this matter.”

Cheng Limin was furious, his chest heaving violently. He didn’t dare do anything to Cheng Liguo, but he shot his own mother a vicious glare. Damn old hag—when no one’s around tonight, I’ll kill you. Then that money will still be mine.

“Village Head Cheng, if this old woman dies, whatever money remains can be considered my donation to the Chengjia Village committee. I grew up here—thanks to you and the old village head for all the help you gave me.”

Village Head Cheng’s face wrinkled even more. This Cheng Liguo really knew what he was doing. A thousand yuan—treating the old woman would cost at most one or two hundred. The rest would become the village’s little treasury.

“Cheng Liguo, what do you mean by that?” Cheng Limin shouted.

Cheng Liguo shot Cheng Limin a sideways glance, a cold smile hanging at the corner of his mouth. He turned and walked toward the village entrance. At that moment, not only did no one stop Cheng Liguo, they instead held back the enraged Cheng Limin.

Cheng Limin wanted to curse loudly, but when he met Li Huan’s eyes—eyes that reflected naked killing intent—every sound stuck in his throat, and he no longer dared to utter a word.

Neither Li Huan nor Cheng Liguo noticed the two men and one woman standing in the corner, staring coldly at their retreating figures without blinking.

After returning to the capital, Li Huan immediately went to a photo studio to have the severance-of-kinship document developed. He asked for ten copies, expedited. The photographer took the film into the darkroom.

But when he saw what was developed, he couldn’t help sighing. There were far too many such documents cutting off family ties. He really couldn’t understand why the deepest harm so often came from those closest to you.

As soon as Li Huan got home, he saw Cheng Qiao staring up at the sky, lost in thought. His heart jolted—don’t tell me something else has happened again.

“Qiao, what’s wrong? Where are the kids?”

“You’re back. How did things go?”

“All taken care of. I photographed that severance document and had it developed at the studio. It’ll be ready tomorrow. What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh. The kids are asleep. The Public Security Bureau just called—Wu Fan is dead.”

“Dead is dead. Someone like him deserves it—he was too evil.”

“He was strangled to death by his own biological father.”

“What…?”

Li Huan swallowed hard. He found it hard to believe. First, there had been the disgusting faces of Cheng Liguo’s mother and brother, and now he was hearing news that completely overturned his worldview.

“The comrades from the Public Security Bureau said that Wu Fan cried out in pain every day in prison, but the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with him. In the end, Wu Fan’s father couldn’t bear it anymore and strangled Wu Fan to death with his own hands.”

“His father went into the prison and killed Wu Fan? Didn’t his father have only Wu Fan as a son? And how did his father even get into prison…”

Li Huan suddenly fell silent. He remembered—Ye Jun had once said that Wu Fan’s father, Wu Shangeng, had been reported. When they searched his home, they found large quantities of gold, silver, jewelry, and historical artifacts.

There were also letters and account books proving he had sold cultural relics to other countries—enough to ensure he would spend the rest of his life in prison. Those he had once suppressed were reinstated to their former positions.

To let the once all-powerful Wu Shangeng see just how miserable the Wu family’s only remaining “root” was, they deliberately placed Wu Fan in the same prison where Wu Shangeng was being held in solitary confinement.

What no one expected was that from the very moment Wu Fan entered the prison, he didn’t acknowledge Wu Shangeng as his father. Instead, he rolled on the ground, crying out in pain—pain so intense his whole body seemed to be convulsing.

When asked where it hurt, he pointed to his head, his ears, his eyes, mouth, and nose—and from his chest down to his heels, it seemed as though every part of him hurt.

Wu Shangeng was heartbroken. He kept pounding on the prison door, drawing the guards, who, seeing Wu Fan’s deathly pale face, could only call in two doctors.

After examining him, the doctors found no visible injuries. His blood pressure and everything else were normal. Their faces went cold—they instinctively believed the man was faking illness to seek medical parole.

After explaining this to the guards, the doctors left. No matter how Wu Shangeng shouted afterward, no one paid him any attention. Two days later, Wu Fan was in such agony that he could only gasp weakly. Only then did they take him to the hospital for examination.

The doctors conducted a comprehensive check. There were no wounds, and the X-rays showed nothing wrong with his internal organs. That left only one possibility—nerve-related issues.

But with the medical standards of the time, they were far from capable of diagnosing such a condition. They could only invite Ye Jun to take a look. Ye Jun needed just one glance to know that the man had been poisoned by Cheng Qiao’s toxic powder.

A colorless, odorless poison that gnawed away at the nerves every second—other than Cheng Qiao’s antidote, it was essentially incurable.

“Doctor Ye, what do you think this patient is suffering from?” someone asked.

Ye Jun shook his head. “Please forgive my limited medical skills. I can’t determine the cause of the illness.”