The Suffering of Silly Pillar

As Sha Zhu listened, the color drained from his face like a receding tide, turning deathly pale, then flushed a horrifying bluish-purple from extreme rage. His lips trembled violently, his teeth chattering softly. His hand, gripping the edge of the pot, knuckles turned white from the force, and trembled slightly.

Those eyes, usually so nonchalant or glaring with anger, were now filled with unbelievable astonishment, which was then swallowed by a raging fire that seemed to solidify into a tangible flame. And in the deepest part of that fire, a trace of immense humiliation and pain, stemming from childhood trauma, was faintly visible.

"Who...who the hell said that?! Which bastard made up this bullshit?! I'll tear his mouth off! I'll chop him up and feed him to the dogs!" Sha Zhu let out a suppressed growl from deep in his throat, like a wounded beast, his voice hoarse and full of violence.

Xiao Liu was terrified and waved his hands repeatedly: "Master He, Master He, please don't get agitated! I don't know who spread it first, it's just... it seems like the whole factory knows all of a sudden... people are talking about it everywhere... in the workshop, in the canteen, while walking... it seems... it seems like everyone is discussing it..."

Sha Zhu felt a chill run up his spine and up to the top of his head, instantly extinguishing some of his anger and replacing it with a deeper, suffocating chill and despair.

The whole factory is talking about it? Overnight? This is no accident! It was premeditated! Targeted! They wanted to deliver the fatal blow when he received the invitation and was full of hope! They wanted to completely ruin his reputation, make him the target of everyone's scorn at the social gathering, and make all the women avoid him like the plague! They wanted to ensure he could never hold his head high again!

"Xu Damao... Xu Damao! I curse your ancestors for eight generations! I'm not finished with you!" Sha Zhu's eyes were bloodshot as he roared, every word dripping with deep-seated hatred. Besides Xu Damao, who else would go to such lengths, resorting to such insidious methods as digging up ancestral graves, to deal with him? Who else?

He ripped off his greasy apron, threw it to the ground, and was about to rush out. He wanted to get to the propaganda department immediately, find Xu Damao, and even if it meant losing his job, he would beat that beast to death on the spot!

"Master He! Master He, calm down! Don't be impulsive!" Xiao Liu was terrified and rushed forward, grabbing Sha Zhu's arm tightly. "You have no evidence now. If you go to him, he'll definitely deny it! He's already cleared himself of all charges! What if he turns around and accuses you of framing an innocent person, of being desperate? What will you do then? What if the security guards come? Can you explain yourself then? Have you forgotten the lesson from last time…?"

The words "last time" were like a bucket of ice water poured over Sha Zhu's burning anger, making him shiver.

Yes, last time he was falsely accused of indecent assault, wasn't it because of his impulsiveness and lack of evidence that he was left speechless and almost ruined? That bastard Xu Damao is cunning and treacherous; he must have made thorough preparations long ago to completely absolve himself of any responsibility! If he rushes over now, what will he gain besides further punishments, or even being expelled?

Sha Zhu stood stiffly in Xiao Liu's arms, his chest heaving violently like a broken bellows. His eyes were bloodshot, staring intently into the void, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked, his nails digging deep into his palms until they bled, yet he felt no pain.

The suffocating feeling of being tightly bound by invisible ropes, with nowhere to vent his resentment, injustice, and hatred, almost drove him insane!

He glanced at the few kitchen helpers and apprentices around him who had heard the commotion, peeked out, and then quickly looked away. He looked out the window at the shadowy crowd in the factory area in the twilight, who seemed to be pointing and whispering at him. He felt as if the whole world was filled with malice and mockery.

He subconsciously touched the pale red invitation card in his pocket, still carefully tucked inside, pressed against his chest. But now, that thin piece of paper felt like a red-hot iron, searing his heart and causing him excruciating pain. The social gathering… did he still have the courage to go?

Even if he went despite his reluctance, under those open or covert looks of disdain, amidst those whispers and pointing fingers, could he still talk to the women like a normal person?

He could almost see himself sitting alone in the shadows at the very edge of the hall, like a monster nailed to a pillar of shame, enduring everyone's scrutiny, ridicule, and avoidance. That newly ignited longing for a warm family, like a candle flame in a storm, flickered and was on the verge of being extinguished.

"Ah—!!!" The suppressed emotions finally broke through the critical point, and Sha Zhu let out a beast-like howl, broke free from Xiao Liu, and slammed his fist hard on the heavy cypress wood cutting board next to him!

With a muffled thud, the cutting board remained motionless. Sha Zhu's hand was ripped open, and blood gushed out, flowing down his wrist. But he seemed oblivious, his eyes bloodshot, panting heavily, like a trapped beast in dire straits.

Rumors are like knives; they don't draw blood, but they cut deep, shattering a person's dignity, hope, and future.

Xu Damao's meticulously planned fatal blow was indeed extremely ruthless and vicious. He dug out Sha Zhu's most hidden scars and most fervent desires, and then wantonly trampled on and defiled them.

Wednesday dawn arrived amidst an almost agonizing wait. For He Yuzhu, the sky seemed to brighten more hesitantly than usual that day.

He watched with his eyes almost open as the window, covered with old newspapers, gradually turned from pitch black to a faint bluish-gray, and then to a pale white.

My mind was like a jumbled mess of thoughts, images, and sounds, a chaotic jumble that didn't stop all night.

The deaf old woman's withered yet warm hands patted his arm repeatedly, her cloudy eyes shining: "My grandson has made something of himself! Look him over carefully, and if you find someone you like, Grandma will help you choose!"

An elderly man named Yi Zhonghai gave a calm and serious admonition, each word striking the eardrums: "Zhuzi, remember, observe more, listen more, and speak less. That's a formal occasion, not in our compound, and certainly not in your canteen kitchen. Every word and action represents you as a person."

And that light red invitation card kept magnifying in his mind. The neat handwriting and the bright red seal represented a kind of recognition and invitation from a "formal organization" that he had almost never received before, bringing waves of illusory yet burning warmth.

However, even clearer, more chilling, and more pervasive than these were the vicious rumors that had haunted every corner of the factory these past two days, creeping into his ears and etched into his heart—"Silly Zhu's dad ran off with a wild widow!" "Abandoned his wife and children, his family is corrupt!" "If the upper beam is crooked, the lower beam will be crooked too!"...

These voices, sometimes sharp and sometimes low, converged into a cold tide of mockery and contempt, repeatedly washing away his pitiful hopes and self-esteem.

He curled up in the cold bed, his fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly. Deep down, a stubborn, rebellious spirit sustained him: He couldn't back down! The more people tried to sabotage him, the less he could allow himself to be looked down upon! He Yuzhu was upright and honest; his father was his father, and he was himself! The union had invited him; why shouldn't he go? Not only would he go, but he would go with his head held high! He would show those backstabbing bastards what was going on!

But another, more truthful, more cowardly voice sneered in the shadows: Go? Go to what? Offer yourself up to be made a fool of? Let people point fingers and gossip about your father who ran off with someone else? Let you stand there like a fool, watching others laugh and joke? That's worse than getting a beating!

These two voices battled it out in his mind all night, until dawn, without a clear winner. He just felt exhausted, a kind of exhaustion that seeped into his bones, and a dull, throbbing pain in his temples.

In the afternoon, the canteen was as busy, noisy, and filled with the steam of cooking oil as ever. Sha Zhu, wielding his large iron ladle that had been with him for many years and gleamed from being soaked in oil, was vigorously stir-frying the workers' large pots of food in front of the huge iron wok. Sweat streamed down his temples and neck, soaking his undershirt.

Normally, the physical exhaustion and the heat of the stove would allow him to temporarily forget his troubles and immerse himself in the simple satisfaction of controlling his food. But today, the clanging of the spatulas and the loud shouts of his coworkers seemed distant and blurred through a frosted glass. His movements were somewhat mechanical, his gaze occasionally drifting towards the canteen entrance, as if waiting for something, or perhaps fearing something.

Having finally endured until the last dish was cooked, and watching the helpers begin cleaning the stove and washing the huge steamer baskets, Sha Zhu took off his greasy apron, hastily wiped the sweat from his face, and walked to the door of the canteen director Ma Hua's small office. Director Ma was wearing reading glasses and looking at this month's food consumption report.

"Director," Sha Zhu's voice was a little hoarse, "I...I have something to do tonight, and I'd like to...ask for leave so I can leave early." It was rare for him to use the word "ask for leave," which carried a somewhat formal and pleading tone.

Ma Liang looked up from the report and glanced at him through his glasses. The usually fearless and reckless Chef He in front of him now had a mixture of tension, forced composure, and a hint of barely perceptible apprehension on his face.

Ma Liang knew perfectly well what he was up to; he'd heard the rumors circulating in the factory too. He sighed inwardly, but didn't show much on his face, simply nodding and waving, "Go on. Tonight... well, be careful."

He wanted to say something encouraging, but when the words came to his lips, he felt that nothing he said would be meaningful, and in the end, he could only say these three vague words.

"Hey! Thank you, Director!" Sha Zhu felt like he had been granted a pardon. He nodded hurriedly, turned around, and quickly left the cafeteria, as if escaping a suffocating place.