( Translator Note : Guys, in China there was a time when Landlords was Executed/Killed )

The officer raised an eyebrow, “Not mandatory.”

Cheng Rushan replied calmly, “Then I choose to refuse.”

Before the officer could react, the prison drill instructor beside him couldn’t hold back, his face darkening. “Cheng Rushan, are you out of your mind?”

To refuse such a great opportunity, are you crazy?

“Hey, why so harsh?” The officer chuckled. “You may not know about the benefits in our Unit 518. Let me tell you, for someone like you selected through the death squad, joining the special operations unit, and passing all the tests, the monthly allowance for the first year alone is 126 yuan, with full meals provided. You also get an extra 44 pounds of grain coupons, and there’s more to come.”

Such good treatment, no one could refuse it, he was certain.

But Cheng Rushan glanced at him, then lowered his eyes and spoke slowly, “Sir, I… don’t have the resolve to become a soldier.”

“Huh?” The officer looked at him curiously. “No resolve? You’ve been through the death squad, carried out missions in the special operations unit, and that’s not enough resolve? Come on, young man, explain to me, where exactly do you think your resolve is lacking?”

Cheng Rushan remained tight-lipped and didn’t respond.

The instructor whispered to the officer, “Background issues.”

The officer nodded, “Ah, I see. It’s fine, we don’t judge by background, only by loyalty. After passing the tests, all that matters is loyalty.”

“No,” Cheng Rushan still refused, but said nothing more.

“You.” The officer pointed to the door. “Step outside, I need to talk to him.”

“Captain Cen, it’s against regulations, I have to record this,” the secretary hesitated.

Captain Cen flicked the secretary’s head, “Record what? He barely said a few words the whole time, what are you going to record?” He snatched the notebook and looked at it, seeing: Cheng Rushan, from a landlord family, skilled in operations, but with questionable ideology.

He tore that page out and crumpled it into the secretary’s pocket. “Go outside and smoke.”

The secretary hesitated, “Captain, I don’t smoke.”

“Learn!” Captain Cen shoved a pack of hand-rolled cigarettes into his pocket. “Just smoke.”

Once the secretary and the instructor left, only Captain Cen and Cheng Rushan remained in the room.

“Come on, tell me,” Captain Cen said calmly, “Don’t be afraid. There’s no political struggle here, and no one cares about your background. I came back from the Soviet Union myself, and they accused me of something.”

Cheng Rushan pondered for a moment before speaking, “When I joined the death squad initially, it wasn’t to serve the country. I just wanted to remove the label, to live cleanly and honorably like a normal person.”

When the former village leader recommended him for military service, his background was brushed aside.

But a unit officer saw potential in him and asked if he wanted to join the death squad.

Back then, he didn’t care much about the details.

He simply asked if joining could remove the labels of “bastard son” and “son of a landlords” from his family.

After a moment of hesitation, the officer told him, “If you can survive, removing those labels won’t be a problem.”

So he joined the death squad.

In the autumn of 1970, after his term in the death squad ended, he managed to change his family’s status from landlords to wealthy farmers, despite his grandfather and great-grandfather being executed.

His uncle and father were also reclassified as wealthy farmers.

For people without connections or good backgrounds, changing their status was as difficult as climbing to the sky.

That year, when he returned home, his mother wanted him to marry, but he wasn’t keen on the idea.

He believed it was best to improve his status to at least that of a middle peasant, so his children wouldn’t have to endure the hardships he faced in his childhood.

But the government continued to label people as new landlords or wealthy farmers, and who knew when another movement would come.

People like him, with questionable backgrounds, were always on edge.

In the end, he couldn’t resist his mother’s tears and agreed to marry.

Little did he know that just two days after the wedding, he was taken away by those people again and assigned to a special duties unit.

His question remained the same: “Can you remove our labels? Can you let us live as normal, respectable people?”

Without being suppressed by policies, without being bullied by others, standing like a human instead of kneeling, holding one’s head high instead of feeling defeated, living freely rather than constantly repenting and apologizing like a criminal.

In the past, they talked about etiquette, filial piety, and judged character.

But now, people’s goodness or badness is judged by their background, as if some people are born guilty.

What crime did they commit? Are all wealthy and educated people bad? Are they all landlords or bad elements of the right-wing?

Captain Cen stared at him for a moment, his expression becoming more and more serious.

He nodded slightly, “I understand. Congratulations, from now on, your family will be regarded as patriotic and promising individuals, no longer labeled as landlords with bad reputation. Someone will clear your name.”

There are many patriots outside the party in society.

Whether they are landlords or capitalists, they are still objects of unity. Many were initially overthrown but later rehabilitated.

Cheng Rushan smiled but felt no joy.

It took him 12 years, risking his life several times, to hear those words.

He had eagerly awaited this day, but now that it had arrived, he felt nothing.

After all, his grandfather, his great-grandfather, and his uncle had all passed away, leaving him with a heavy heart.

“Thank you,” he said, “but I still refuse.”

“Are you resentful?” Captain Cen’s gaze was piercing.

Cheng Rushan shook his head. “Resentful? Resent whom? It’s not like someone targeted our family. Although Cheng Fugui took advantage during his campaign of revenge, even without him, our family would have been involved in the struggle.”

He didn’t understand when he was young, but as he grew older and saw more, he thought a lot and finally understood: it wasn’t someone who harmed their family, but they suffered from the era.

If it weren’t for supportive policies, Cheng Fugui wouldn’t have been able to touch their family.

Those revolutionaries who had benefited from their family’s kindness would have supported them.

But later, they could only save their uncle and father from death, not their freedom.

Many others without enemies were also caught up in the struggle.

Later, they targeted the right-wing, and those once respected intellectuals were also overthrown, sent down to the countryside, and suffered from chaos in society.

The whole society was like this, driven by a larger force beyond any individual’s ability to change.

At just twenty-six years old, he had already experienced the ups and downs of life, the sorrow of separation and death.

Wealth, glory, standing out, and family pride—all of these were meaningless to him.

For his family, what mattered most was being able to live proudly like any other person, walking down the street without being stared at or whispered about as “Look at him, such a handsome young man, but too bad his family are bad reputation.”

To live freely, coming and going without fear of being grabbed by militia, publicly criticized, forced to kneel, or subjected to worse—that was what his family longed for the most.

With his background, if he joined the military and was singled out by zealous officials as a hidden anti-revolutionary within the army, it wouldn’t just be his own misfortune but would bring trouble to his family as well.

So, he wouldn’t join the military.

“Haha, kid, you’re quite something. Joined the commando at 14, brave and skilled,” Captain Cen flipped through the file. “You drove trucks through treacherous mountain passes, ventured into Sichuan, went to the Northern Frontier, even infiltrated Tibet, fought bandits, worked undercover in several prisons, and helped bust a few lingering gangs at Shuangling Prison…”

Initially, several spies were uncovered at Shuangling Prison, hiding within to sabotage socialist construction, causing significant harm.

Whether Cheng Rushan was praised or criticized, he remained unmoved, as if it didn’t concern him.

Captain Cen nodded. “Leaving home at 14, not many choose this path unless forced. Now at 26, these past ten years haven’t been easy for you.”

He continued reviewing the file, raising an eyebrow, and chuckled. “Seems like you’re eager to go home and be with your wife and kids. Oh, you got married about seven years ago? That would make your kid around five or six.”

Speaking of this, Cheng Rushan remained expressionless. “I got married a few days before you guys arrested me. I’m not even sure if my wife is still around.”

He wasn’t sure if his wife was still alive, let alone whether there was still a child.

He came from a disadvantaged background, unlike those who joined the military in a formal manner.

Every time he was conscripted, it felt like being treated almost like a criminal, with no freedom to contact his family.

Earlier, when he mentioned working in transportation, he didn’t know how it was being portrayed now.

Captain Cen smiled slightly, “Don’t worry. Although our military keeps things confidential, we can arrange for you to accompany the troops.

Staying in the main military area won’t be a problem.”

Cheng Rushan asked, “Sir, if I don’t join, can I still have my label removed?”

Captain Cen paused, realizing this young man was resolute.

He nodded, “Alright, it’s a deal. I said your background is fine, whether you’re a middle peasant or lower-middle peasant, we can sort it out for you.”

From being a landlord’s reputation to a wealthy peasant was a significant gap, and from a wealthy peasant to a middle peasant was another hurdle.

But here, it seemed as easy as making a phone call for him.

Of course, Cheng Rushan didn’t know that he was the only exception in Captain Cen’s eyes.

Cheng Rushan clenched his fists.

They struggled hard to lift their heads from the mud, striving for the right to look up at the sky, working tirelessly to cleanse the stigma of being labeled as corrupt landlord with their own blood.

This path was incredibly arduous.

His grandfather and great-grandfather, despite being landlords, were never bad people.

Before the Anti-Japanese War, they advocated for building bridges, aiding disaster victims, and their family never shied away from labor.

The tenants in their village were not burdened heavily, with rent waived and relief provided during times of disaster.

For these efforts, the county government in the Republic of China even awarded them charitable plaques.

After the Japanese invasion, his grandfather sold off more than half of his properties to secretly support the war effort.

At the time, his father wanted to join the resistance against Japan, but their family was under scrutiny by the Japanese military.

Missing even one member of the family would bring repercussions to the entire clan.

Though unable to join the Eighth Route Army, his uncle and father continued to support the resistance, maneuvering to protect the local people from Japanese forces.

But after the victory of the Anti-Japanese War, during the reckoning, they were branded as landlords, counter-revolutionaries, and their efforts to protect the people and deal with the Japanese forces became a dark chapter.

Back then, Cheng Fugui colluded with the foreign forces to profit from the national crisis.

When Granduncle found out, he gave Cheng Fugui a severe beating and confined him to the village, forbidding him from leaving.

Later, when Cheng Fugui claimed to have changed and wanted to join the resistance against Japan, Granduncle reluctantly let him go.

Little did they know, Cheng Fugui rose to become a section-level cadre and returned to their hometown to carry out campaigns against landlords.

He executed Grandfather directly.

Initially, he planned to execute Granduncle and Father as well, but thanks to the protection of other revolutionary cadres, they were sent to a farm.

When he was young, Father always reminded him to remember the kindness of those who saved them.

At that time, he didn’t understand and always asked, “Why didn’t they tell the government about our family’s situation? Why didn’t they clear our names?”

Back then, there were no answers to be found.

Later, he understood on his own. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to; it was the policies that didn’t allow it.

Even clearly underground revolutionary parties were scrutinized, let alone them?

Branded as counter-revolutionaries, curropt landlord, bad reputation, they had to keep their heads down at all times.

They couldn’t stand tall, couldn’t raise their heads, and certainly couldn’t look up at the sky, or they might become targets of struggle.

He joined the commando unit and espionage unit in hopes of removing the stigma and allowing his family to live with dignity.

But he realized his qualifications were insufficient to become an honorable soldier, so he refused to join the special forces.

After enduring hardship and suffering, he simply hoped for a simple life.

Captain Cen didn’t press him further. He patted his shoulder and said, “Alright then, I’ll arrange a good job for you elsewhere.”