Chapter 87 Would It Be Possible to End up Like This if I Didn’t Harm Others?

Zheng Maoshan was furious and ordered his daughter harshly in front of the whole commune.

Zheng Cuixiang had been held in the palm of his hand since she was a child. Not to mention the situation of scolding her in public, even at home, her father only scolded her once, and both times were because of Zheng Xinyue.

She hated Zheng Xinyue to death. Why didn't she let this crazy girl die in the Zhang family? Why did she come back to oppose her everywhere?

Zheng Cuixiang looked up and found that everyone in the commune was looking at her and laughing at her. She couldn't hold her face and ran away crying with her face covered.

Zheng Maoshan was so angry that his heart hurt. He felt that everyone in the commune was laughing at him. He sat back on the stool with a gloomy face.

Secretary Du frowned and glared at him. He was just in the mood to speak, and he didn't have the momentum just now.

Zheng Xinyue held the rock sugar in her mouth, and her mouth was full of sweet taste. She adjusted a more comfortable sitting posture and looked at the stage seriously.

Suddenly she felt a resentful gaze, and she looked in the direction of the gaze. There was a distance of dozens of meters between Team 1 and Team 5. Zhang Xiuxiu was hiding in the crowd and staring at her like a ghost.

She looked miserable. Her hair was shaved close to her scalp. The barber's skill was not high. Her head looked like a bald head, with pits and unevenness.

It seems that this girl has had a hard time these days! She is not allowed to wear a hat to cover her shame at meetings.

In this era, people with shaved heads are despised by others. The whole commune has seen Zhang Xiuxiu's ugly appearance. Does Zhang Xiuxiu still want to find a good husband in the future?

Sometimes punishing a person does not necessarily mean beating her to death. This kind of punishment is the best punishment to make her live a life worse than death.

Zheng Xinyue glanced at her ex-mother-in-law Ma Chunmei who was sitting next to her. She was not much better than her daughter. The scars on her face were all the masterpieces of her mother. She looked at her as if she wanted to eat her alive.

Zheng Xinyue looked away with a smile. I really don't know how the mother and daughter have the face to hate her?

How could you have ended up like this if you didn't harm others?

"Comrades! We must unite. Unity is strength. As long as we are united, we can defeat the heavens. If we want it to rain, it will rain."

Secretary Du waved his fist and spoke eloquently on the stage. Seeing that the people below did not cooperate, he frowned unhappily.

Several team leaders applauded together, and the members behind him also applauded. The ups and downs of the applause obviously made Secretary Du dissatisfied. He raised his hand and pressed it down, and the applause stopped abruptly.

In the morning, we drank wild vegetable porridge. After walking more than ten miles on the mountain road, who still had the energy to clap?

"The team leaders of each production team will come to the stage in a while and write your letters of guarantee."

After Secretary Du's mobilization speech, it was time for the Hongmen Banquet. The production team leaders were asked to write a guarantee, and they would be held accountable if they failed to complete the task.

"I have said ugly words in advance. The production team leaders who fail to complete the task should stop working and go home to hug their children!"

After the production team leaders came on stage, Secretary Du narrowed his eyes and threatened them.

"Don't think about reporting less. Write 500 kilograms per mu. How many mu of land does your production team have? If you can't calculate, find someone who can."

When the production team leader wanted to write less, Secretary Du immediately cut off their escape route.

The faces of several production team leaders suddenly changed. In a bumper year, whether they could produce 500 kilograms depended on luck. This year was a disaster year. Where would they get food if they wrote so much?