Kill The Marriage Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Righteous Act

“This is our first time testing this weight today, I’ll support it from here, so be careful.”

Zhang Qingyuan was so exhausted his entire body was shaking. He truly had no strength left to speak, and even his nod was barely perceptible. Large beads of sweat dripped from his jaw and splattered onto the floor.

The fitness coach clicked his tongue in amazement. “Look at you, doing leg day before your shoulder injuries have even healed. What kind of provocation did you suffer?”

What kind of provocation? What else could it have been?

He had been provoked by his own marriage partner, obviously.

Never in his life had Zhang Qingyuan experienced such humiliation. His arms had been dislocated and he had been tossed into a corner like a broken ragdoll, the pain bringing tears to his eyes, leaving him unsure if he had actually cried or not.

It wasn’t because of some ridiculous Alpha or “husband” pride; it was his basic dignity as a human being that had been utterly stripped away.

Truly—weak, pitiful, helpless, and embarrassing.

Zhang Qingyuan used every ounce of his willpower to finish his final set. His legs gave out, and he tumbled off the machine, so exhausted he could only lean against the wall and tremble. Right now, he was no different from that evening when Ren Zhong had dislocated his arms—he was completely useless.

Even though a few days had passed, thinking back to that evening still gave him the urge to shiver.

The moment Ren Zhong had dropped him, the sensation of weightlessness made him think his life was over.

Yet, the man had climbed out of his wheelchair, popped his noodle-like arms back into their sockets, hailed a car for him, and bundled him off to the hospital’s orthopedic department for treatment.

Though Ren Zhong hadn’t said a word, the mere fact that Zhang Qingyuan was here, trembling after leg day, proved that the Captain hadn’t decided to hand him and the entire KFM over to the authorities.

However, what baffled Zhang Qingyuan the most was how Ren Zhong had managed to see through their act in the first place.

—That day, did Ren Zhong really return home just because he forgot his medical records and hospital card?

It was truly something that didn’t bear overthinking. The investigative skills of someone professionally trained were simply too formidable. You could never lie in front of someone like that for the rest of your life.

He leaned against the wall, hauled himself up, and, under the coach’s supervision, got on the treadmill to walk at a slow pace, gradually adjusting his body’s condition.

The coach casually turned on the TV in front of the treadmill, letting Zhang Qingyuan watch the news to pass the time while he walked.

“Bringing you the latest breaking news. This morning, a video uploaded by netizens showed a man in a wheelchair intercepting a human trafficker and escorting a pregnant woman in labor to the hospital…”

The moment he saw that familiar little electric wheelchair on the TV screen, Zhang Qingyuan fell flat on his face off the treadmill.

…

Rewind to that morning. Ren Zhong was at the rehabilitation center.

His jaw was clenched so tightly his cheeks bulged as he fiercely gripped the parallel bars, stumbling forward like a toddler learning to walk under the protection of his braces. Every single step was agonizingly difficult. After a few laps, sweat poured down his face and back.

After cycling through several exercises, it was time for a break. The staff arranged for him to sit by the floor-to-ceiling windows, allowing him to charge his wheelchair while enjoying the scenery.

Bathed in sunlight and surrounded by pleasant views, he curled up in a comfortable sofa, sipping a sports drink. Everything was incredibly serene—until he noticed a patient with a cast on his arm strolling through the small garden outside.

The instant he saw that person, Ren Zhong suddenly thought of Zhang Qingyuan, whose arms he had dislocated a few days prior.

With delayed realization, he thought: That guy has an incredibly silver tongue, doesn’t he?

He had been caught, his arms had been dislocated, and he was seconds away from being handed over to the state. It was a guaranteed checkmate.

Yet, simply by flapping his lips, Zhang Qingyuan had managed to turn a resolute, disciplined soldier into a sympathetic listener.

If the roles had been reversed, Ren Zhong knew he absolutely wouldn’t have possessed the ability to flip the board and escape unscathed.

Zhang Qingyuan had accomplished the seemingly impossible.

Ren Zhong couldn’t help but reflect on himself.

Was it possible he had been played by Zhang Qingyuan?

The truth behind the man’s tragic story was unverified, but it had struck Ren Zhong’s empathy precisely. His aggressive wording had been a calculated provocation, designed to ignite Ren Zhong’s righteous fury and make him agree with their cause in the heat of the moment.

Thinking closely about it, his emotional pacing had been entirely controlled by Zhang Qingyuan from start to finish.

So for others, the saying was “if you can’t beat them, join them.” But for Ren Zhong, it was “even if you beat them, you still join them”?

Furthermore, in the days since they had torn off their masks, Zhang Qingyuan had continued to maintain his “virtuous wife” facade. He appeared completely unbothered, nursing his shoulder injuries while managing the household, treating Ren Zhong with a gentle tone and a warm smile.

Ren Zhong mentally clicked his tongue, thinking: With skills like that and such terrifying endurance, this guy is no ordinary pawn. He’s bound to achieve great things.

After another round of training, it was lunch break. Ren Zhong decided to take his wheelchair to hunt for food nearby.

Before Zhang Qingyuan’s injury, he would occasionally wake up early to pack a “loving wife’s bento” for Ren Zhong, or personally deliver a piping hot meal right at lunchtime. If he was truly busy, he would order takeout from a familiar private kitchen.

However, since getting injured, Ren Zhong had lost all these privileges.

It seemed Zhang Qingyuan wasn’t entirely “unbothered” after all.

Even a “virtuous wife” holds grudges.

Rolling down the street, Ren Zhong had long grown accustomed to the curious, novelty-seeking stares. He struggled over roads with poor accessibility, getting blocked multiple times by steps and narrow pathways, until he finally found a fast-food chain he could actually enter.

Ren Zhong had only taken two bites of his fried chicken when he looked up and noticed something strange about a Beta “couple” walking into the store.

Despite it being the height of a scorching summer, they were dressed in heavy layers, their faces obscured by hats and masks.

The Beta man’s behavior was suspicious. Upon entering, he glanced left and right, confirming the locations of the security cameras before pulling his hat down lower.

This was not the behavior of an ordinary customer.

Looking at the woman beside him made the situation even more bizarre.

She was heavily pregnant, visibly close to her due date. A woman in that condition would typically be extremely cautious about her diet. Why would her husband bring her to a cheap fast-food joint?

This specific chain targeted the lower-end market. Management, taste, ingredients, hygiene—who knew what problems hid beneath the surface. Aside from being cheap, it had zero redeeming qualities. It was absolutely not a place for a pregnant woman.

It was far too strange.

Ren Zhong closely observed the woman dressed in rural clothing. Her scarf-wrapped head was practically buried in her chest, and her entire body was trembling uncontrollably.

It was the frequency of fear and suffering.

Suddenly, Ren Zhong noticed the woman was deliberately tapping her foot and rhythmically twitching the fingers she had hidden behind her back.

Three short, three long, three short.

A two-second pause.

Three short, three long, three short.

It was the Morse code for SOS.

A masked “peasant woman” wearing a thick quilted jacket in the middle of summer, a “peasant woman” who knew Morse code…

The operation began silently.

Ren Zhong ordered from his spot using his phone, requesting a cup of coffee with the note: Scalding hot.

After collecting his food, he sat with the coffee on his tray, waiting quietly.

The man clearly didn’t want to expose himself to the cameras for long; they would definitely leave soon.

As the two finished eating and walked toward the door to leave, Ren Zhong drove his electric wheelchair to block the exit.

Beep beep!

The wheelchair emitted a warning sound.

Ren Zhong mimicked the harmless, gentle smile he remembered Zhang Qingyuan using to lower the man’s guard.

He spoke in the softest voice possible: “Excuse me, my wheelchair is out of battery. Could you please ask the staff if there’s an outlet I could use?”

The man looked incredibly impatient, glaring at Ren Zhong in the wheelchair with disgust.

“F*ck off, cripple! …AGH!”

The scalding hot coffee lashed out like a milk-brown whip, flying from the open cup at blinding speed and splashing directly onto the man’s face.

As the man screamed in agony, the electric wheelchair surged forward, violently ramming into him and knocking him to the floor.

Ren Zhong spun the wheelchair, leaned over, grabbed the man’s forearm and upper arm, twisted them in opposite directions, and used the momentum of the man’s fall to wrench forcefully.

Crack!

The man’s elbow was instantly dislocated.

Ren Zhong’s wheelchair perfectly pressed down on the man’s carotid sinus between his neck and collarbone. With that much weight applied, the lightest consequence was fainting; the worst was death.

He pulled out his phone, already prepared in his hand, speaking to the operator while simultaneously addressing everyone in the restaurant.

“Hello, I am reporting an incident. My name is Ren Zhong.”

Who would have thought that a disabled man in a wheelchair was actually a highly lethal former special forces soldier from the border?

He concisely reported the nature of the incident, time, location, individuals involved, and the scene’s status. He instructed the staff to help secure the suspect before shifting his wheelchair into reverse and backing off the man.

When he turned to check on the pregnant woman, who had collapsed in terror, he smelled a strong, metallic scent.

Her water had broken.

There were definitely hospitals near the rehabilitation center. It wasn’t far—a five-minute walk, two minutes in an electric wheelchair. It was faster than waiting for an ambulance.

Ren Zhong reached out his hand to the pregnant woman.

Translator’s Note:

• Three short, three long, three short: The international Morse code distress signal for SOS.
• Milk-brown water sleeve (奶棕色的水袖): A poetic description comparing the splash of coffee to the long, flowing sleeves used in traditional Chinese opera.