In the fiery red era of the heavens, refrigerators are refreshed daily.

Chapter 162, Section 161: Unexpected Death. Compensation Claims. Negotiation Cornerstone. Accident Classification.
"Sis! Sis! Say something! What's going on?"

Yang Guangming's heart sank suddenly, as if a cold stone had fallen upon it. An extremely ominous premonition silently spread through his mind.

The receiver carried Yang Xianglan's broken, fragmented sobs, torn apart by immense grief. The sobs rose and fell, interspersed with incoherent pieces, like a drowning person desperately struggling for air.

"The messenger said... he's been taken to the hospital for emergency treatment... he's in critical condition..."

Tell the family to be prepared...

Upon hearing this, my mother-in-law... fainted...

"What am I going to do...?"

The last sentence, filled with utter bewilderment and helplessness, is like having all the bones and muscles removed, leaving only an empty shell.

Yang Guangming gripped the black bakelite receiver tightly, feeling the sweat on his palms, which were slippery and cold.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, the breath sinking into his lungs, but it couldn't suppress the chill in his heart.

He spoke into the microphone in as steady a voice as possible:

"Sister, listen to me, you did the right thing, it was right for you to call me."

Now, you need to take good care of Aunt Wang. Don't worry too much. Drive slowly and don't rush! Things may not be as bad as you think!

I'll ask for leave immediately and rush to the hospital! If anything happens to my brother-in-law, I'll handle it!

On the other end of the phone, Yang Xianglan's sobs seemed to be choked by the harsh command. She seemed to want to say something, with indistinct syllables rolling in her throat, but in the end, all words were drowned out by the more turbulent sobs, turning into a heartbreaking wailing.

There was a crisp "click" sound.

Yang Guangming heavily hung the receiver back on the old black landline.

The office was eerily quiet, save for the monotonous, rhythmic ticking of the second hand on the wall clock, which moved slowly and steadily, with more than half an hour left before the end of the workday.

He turned around abruptly and grabbed the navy blue polyester Zhongshan suit jacket draped over the back of the chair.

Without the slightest hesitation, he strode towards Zhao Guodong's office in the inner room, disregarding even the proper etiquette, and directly pushed open the dark green wooden door.

The door creaked open.

Zhao Guodong was reviewing documents behind his large desk when he heard the sound and looked up.

He noticed Yang Guangming's unusual complexion—a tense pallor—and also the deep-seated panic and anxiety in Yang Guangming's eyes.

His thick eyebrows immediately furrowed, forming a deep frown: "Guangming? What happened?" His voice was not loud, but it was filled with concern.

“Secretary Zhao.” Yang Guangming’s voice was slightly hurried and his breathing was a little unsteady. “My brother-in-law, Wang Jianjun, had a serious accident at the Dongfang Machinery Factory. He was just rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment and his condition is very dangerous.”

He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing. "My older sister called; things are in complete chaos at home. Her mother-in-law fainted from shock, and my sister herself is completely disoriented. I have to get there immediately to handle this. I urgently need to ask you for leave!"

Zhao Guodong's expression froze instantly.

He knew Yang Guangming too well; this young man was steady, reliable, and meticulous—his most capable assistant. He would never have lost his composure like this, forgetting even to knock on the door, unless the situation had become irreparably serious.

The air in the office seemed to grow heavier.

Without the slightest hesitation, Zhao Guodong nodded immediately, his voice resolute: "The situation is urgent, go quickly! Don't worry about the factory, I'll take care of everything. Contact me anytime if you need any support! Go now!" He waved his hand, his movements urging him on.

"Thank you, Secretary!" Yang Guangming didn't even have time to say another polite word before turning around and rushing out of the office.

He didn't go back to his seat to pack anything; instead, he rushed out of the office building and ran towards the direction of the weaving workshop office.

In the office of the weaving workshop, Zhang Xiuying had just tidied her desk when she saw her son rush in. She habitually smiled and said, "Guangming, what's wrong...?"

Before she could finish speaking, Yang Guangming interrupted her urgently: "Mom! My brother-in-law had an accident at the factory and was taken to the hospital! My eldest sister's condition isn't good either; her mother-in-law has fainted. I have to get there right away!"

The color drained from Zhang Xiuying's face instantly, and the rag in her hand fell to the ground with a thud.

Her eyes widened, and her lips trembled as she asked, "Wh...what? Jianjun...what happened to him? Is it serious? Which hospital did he go to?" A barrage of questions came out of her mouth, her voice trembling with fear.

Seeing his mother's face turn deathly pale and her body swaying precariously, Yang Guangming knew that she was timid and couldn't handle things.

He quickly weighed his options and decided to reveal some of the truth, but with reservations: "The specifics are unclear over the phone; I only know it's a bit serious, and the patient has already been taken to the operating room."

My eldest sister is having an emotional breakdown and needs comforting from her family. Mom, you need to go to the hospital too. But don't rush, our Hongxing factory is closer to the hospital, you'll definitely get there first.”

He spoke very quickly, with an undeniable decisiveness: "Okay, I'll ride my bicycle away. I'm fast on my own, so I'll get there first and see if I can help."

Calm down first. Your older sister is waiting for you to comfort her. Don't let her comfort you in return.

Just take the bus to the Third Hospital near the Dongfang Machinery Factory, and wait at the hospital entrance. My sister will definitely arrive later than you.

He couldn't tell the truth, because that would break his mother. He needed her to be there so he could get to the hospital and comfort his older sister.

Zhang Xiuying was completely panicked, her heart filled with worry. "Guangming, you...you have to hurry! Where exactly is Jianjun injured? How dangerous is it? Xianglan, she..." She spoke incoherently, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Mom! That's really all they said on the phone! Now is not the time to ask questions; I need to get there as soon as possible!"

Yang Guangming's tone became more forceful, almost stern, as he practically snatched the bicycle keys from his mother's hand. "Hurry up and get on the bus at the factory gate! Be careful on the road! I'm leaving now!"

He didn't have time to explain further. He turned and rushed out of the office, hopped on his bicycle, pedaled hard, and disappeared into the roar of the workshop and the shadows of people.

Zhang Xiuying stood there blankly, looking in the direction her son had disappeared. A huge sense of panic and helplessness overwhelmed her like an icy tide.

Her legs went weak and she almost collapsed, only managing to stand up by holding onto the table next to her.

After a while, she seemed to suddenly wake up, hurriedly grabbing her cloth bag and stumbling out of the workshop, running towards the bus stop at the factory gate, unconsciously muttering, "Jianjun... Xianglan... God bless... Buddha bless..."

Yang Guangming rushed to the bicycle shed, quickly unlocked the heavy ring lock, and pushed out the brand-new "Forever" brand 28-inch bicycle.

He straddled the bicycle with his long legs, sat on the seat, and pushed off with his right foot, propelling the bicycle forward. The wheels rolled over the hard cement road in the factory area, making a rapid and monotonous "shush-shush" sound, which resonated with the heavy and anxious pounding of his heart.

The wind, carrying the scent of warm spring, whistled past his ears and ruffled the slightly damp hair on his forehead.

He had only one thought: Hurry! Hurry up! Get to the hospital!
The bicycle chain made a dull, rapid "creaking" sound as he pedaled, and the chain case got slightly warm.

He hunched over, leaning forward, putting almost all his weight on the pedals, sweat trickling down his temples.

He skillfully maneuvered the car, moving at top speed, weaving nimbly between pedestrians and vehicles.

In less than ten minutes, the familiar gray-white building complex appeared on the horizon.

The Third Municipal Hospital, an old hospital with decades of history, is located in the area between the Oriental Machinery Factory and the Hongxing State-owned Cotton Mill.

The gray outpatient building, square and upright, carries the simple and pragmatic style unique to that generation.

"crunch-"

Yang Guangming suddenly squeezed the brakes, and the front wheel of the bicycle left a shallow mark on the cement ground, coming to a steady stop next to the row of rusty iron railings at the hospital entrance.

He quickly locked his car and rushed towards the emergency room door without stopping.

The emergency room lobby was bustling with noise and chaos.

Medical staff, wearing faded white coats and equally faded white masks, hurried through the crowd with solemn expressions.

Painful groans came from the corner, mixed with the sharp cries of children; anxious shouts rose and fell, calling out the names of doctors and nurses; the suppressed sobs and choked sobs of family members permeated the air like background noise, weaving a suffocating net called despair.

Sunlight's bright gaze swept quickly across every anxious face in the hall, past every stretcher being pushed around and every figure huddled on a bench.

There was no familiar figure of his brother-in-law Wang Jianjun, nor the hunched back of Wang Jianjun's father in his oil-stained work clothes, nor even his father Yang Yongkang and elder brother Yang Guanghui, whom he had expected to be there immediately.

His heart sank even further.

He pushed aside several bewildered people blocking his way and strode towards the triage desk, which was surrounded by a large crowd.

Behind the triage desk, a young female nurse wearing a large white mask, revealing only her tired eyes, was writing something in a thick registration book with her head down, her brows furrowed, clearly annoyed by the noise around her.

Yang Guangming squeezed to the front of the stage, placed his hands on the cold surface, leaned forward slightly, and asked clearly with a forced sense of urgency in his voice, "Comrade, could you tell me if there was a seriously injured soldier brought in from the Dongfang Machinery Factory just now? His name is Wang Jianjun! Where is he being treated?"

The nurse looked up, her eyes peeking out from above her mask showing professional fatigue and a hint of impatience at being disturbed.

She flipped through the rolled-up register beside her, the papers making a rustling sound.

She looked up at Yang Guangming, her eyes showing little emotion, only a numbness born from having seen countless deaths.

"Dongfang Machinery Factory? Wang Jianjun?"

She seemed to think for a moment, then shook her head. "The one that was brought in just now? No need for resuscitation, he was already dead when he arrived. He was sent straight to the morgue."

"boom--!"

It was as if a silent thunderclap had exploded in my mind.

Yang Guangming felt as if his mind had been struck hard by an invisible hammer, leaving his head blank and buzzing.

Although the worst premonition had been coiling around his heart like a venomous snake ever since he received the call, the sheer force of the cold, unadorned death sentence, delivered so directly and casually by the nurse, still left his mind reeling and his body going limp, as if he had lost all his strength.

He instinctively reached out and gripped the edge of the cold metal triage desk tightly, the touch of his fingertips icy and piercing.

The nurse seemed used to seeing family members break down instantly; her eyes showed little emotion. She simply pointed in a direction, her voice remaining calm:
"The morgue is in the building at the back. Walk along this road to the end, turn right, and go through a small door."

Yang Guangming clenched his teeth tightly, his jaw muscles tense like a rock.

He managed to squeeze out two words, his voice hoarse as if sandpaper were being rubbed: "...Thank you."

He turned around abruptly, almost instinctively, and strode in the direction the nurse pointed.

The cement ground beneath my feet felt like cotton; every step felt like walking on a floating cloud, heavy as if filled with lead.

The corridor lights were a stark, blinding white, illuminating the mottled, yellowed walls. The pungent smell of disinfectant in the air now smelled more like the stench of death, chillingly seeping into his nostrils and lungs.

This corridor leading to the end of life seemed exceptionally long and gloomy.

After passing through a dimly lit corridor filled with clutter and empty stretchers, turn right, and an inconspicuous small door painted dark green comes into view.

A small wooden sign with white background and black lettering was nailed to the door. The paint was peeling off, and three cold words were written on it: "Morgue".

A group of people had silently gathered around the sign.

Most of them were men wearing dark blue overalls, the standard uniform of the Dongfang Machinery Factory. The uniforms were covered with black oil stains and grayish-white metallic dust.

They all looked solemn, their lips tightly pressed together, and their eyes red-rimmed.

Some people lowered their heads and let out heavy sighs; some silently raised their rough hands to wipe away the tears they couldn't hold back from the corners of their eyes; and some just stared blankly at the closed door, their eyes empty.

A heavy sense of grief and a silent oppression filled the air.

Among them stood a man dressed in a gray Zhongshan suit, who looked like a cadre. He was about fifty years old, with a somber expression and his brows furrowed into a deep "川" (river) shape.

He was speaking in a low voice to a man next to him who was dressed in overalls and looked like a workshop supervisor. His voice was very low and his expression was solemn.

Yang Guangming walked closer, his eyes searching eagerly. Soon, he spotted a familiar figure.

Father Yang Yongkang stood against the wall, his usually stern and serious face now ashen, as if covered with a thick layer of dust.

His eyes were vacant as he stared at the mottled cement ground beneath his feet, his lips pressed into a stiff line, as if all his energy and spirit had been completely drained away by some enormous force in an instant.

The eldest brother, Yang Guanghui, stood not far from his father, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes red and bloodshot.

Tears silently slid down his young yet weathered face, gathering into murky droplets at his chin, one after another, falling heavily onto the front of his work clothes, which were also stained with engine oil, leaving a small, dark, damp stain.

On the cold cement ground next to them, Wang Jianjun's father, Master Wang, sat hunched over, like an old tree root broken by a strong wind, completely slumped there.

His calloused hands were buried deep in his gray hair. On his wrinkled face, turbid tears flowed like a burst dam, crisscrossing and washing away the deep wrinkles.

He didn't wail loudly; instead, his shoulders heaved violently and silently, and a muffled, intermittent sob escaped from deep within his throat, like the strain of an old bellows.

The sobbing wasn't loud, but it seemed to have exhausted all his strength and life.

His coworkers surrounded him, some patting his shoulder in an attempt to offer some comfort; others crouching down to whisper words of solace. But the old man seemed to have sunk into an abyss of boundless grief, unresponsive to any sounds or touches from the outside world.

This deathly, profound grief is more unsettling than any heart-wrenching wail, as if the air itself has solidified into a heavy block of lead.

Yang Guanghui was the first to see his younger brother arrive.

As if he had finally grasped a piece of driftwood in a dark abyss, a faint light flashed in his eyes, and then the suppressed tears burst forth in an instant.

His lips trembled, and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but only a series of gasping sounds, like someone drowning, came from his throat; he couldn't utter a single word.

Yang Guangming walked over quickly, without saying a word, but simply stretched out his broad palm and slapped his older brother's arm hard.

That slap carried a heavy weight, conveying silent comfort and support.

Yang Guanghui felt this power, his body trembled violently, and he tried hard to control his surging emotions, but tears still flowed down his face like beads from a broken string.

Yang Guangming walked to his father Yang Yongkang's side and called out softly, his voice hoarse: "Dad."

Yang Yongkang's body seemed to tremble very slightly, as if he had been startled awake from a deep nightmare.

He slowly raised his eyelids, his cloudy gaze like dusty glass beads, and looked at his youngest son.

There was no light in his eyes, only a bottomless sorrow and bewilderment, like an ancient well.

He nodded very slightly, so slightly as to be almost invisible, and uttered a muffled syllable: "Mmm."

That's a response.

Then, his heavy gaze slowly fell back to the cold ground, as if something there could suck away all his pain and soul.

Yang Guangming's heart felt as if it had been gripped tightly by a cold, powerful hand, and suddenly clenched. He didn't ask his father any more questions; any words now would be pale and powerless.

He turned to his elder brother, his voice extremely low, yet unusually clear and calm, carrying a rationality forcibly forged amidst immense grief:

"Brother, what happened? Tell me the details. Brother-in-law... what was he doing at the time? Was he... at fault?"

Now is not the time to wallow in grief; he must immediately find out the nature of the accident and who is responsible.

This is related to the upcoming compensation negotiations, and to the future livelihood of Yang Xianglan, her newborn nephew, and Honghong!

This thought, like a cold steel needle, pierced his sorrow, bringing a cruel clarity.

Yang Guanghui forcefully wiped away the tears and snot from his face, took a few deep breaths, his chest heaving as he tried to calm his turbulent emotions, but his voice still carried a heavy nasal tone and an uncontrollable tremor:
"No...no! Jianjun did nothing wrong!"
He...he's just so unlucky! Absolutely damn unlucky!

As he finished speaking, his voice trembled with sobs, filled with grief, indignation, and resentment.

He forced himself to speak, his words coming out haltingly, each one seemingly squeezed out with difficulty from his throat:
"In the afternoon... around four o'clock, Workshop 3 was processing a large part, a base for a new machine tool, made of cast iron, incredibly heavy..."

He swallowed hard, as if something was blocking his throat. "The new apprentice's name is... Li Erzhu. He's only been at the factory for less than three months."

When he was securing the workpiece... he might not have clamped it tightly enough, or he might have panicked and his hands might have shaken...

That unfinished part... just 'boom'... it flew off..."

Yang Guanghui's voice was filled with deep lingering fear and terror, and his body trembled involuntarily again, as if he had witnessed the horrific scene firsthand.

"It is said that when Jianjun was building the army, he was facing away from that bed."

He was talking to Mr. Liu from the quality inspection team next to him, discussing the precision issue of the previous part...

Nobody expected this... who the hell could have predicted it!
The flying metal lump was so accurate...so precise...it whistled through the air...it hit him directly...directly on the back of the head!

As Yang Guangming recounted his story, his heart sank deeper and deeper into an icy abyss.

The back of the head...that's one of the most vulnerable parts of the human body! The unfinished metal lump, carrying the kinetic energy of a high-speed impact...

"On the spot...the person..."

Yang Guanghui closed his eyes in pain, large tears welling up again and rolling down his rough cheeks. "He just stopped breathing... The apprentice was so scared he collapsed on the spot... He soiled himself... He was shaking like a leaf... He was carried away... He didn't dare to come with us..."

His tone, besides conveying immense grief, also carried a hint of anger towards the perpetrator and a sense of powerlessness in the face of this unexpected disaster.

Yang Guangming listened silently, his face as solemn as iron, his lips pressed into a cold, hard line.

The accident occurred in a clear manner, and the responsibility for the incident is clearly defined.

My brother-in-law, Wang Jianjun, died a completely undeserved death, a major accident caused by someone else's serious violation of operating procedures!
Thinking of my eldest sister, Yang Xianglan, I remember her not long after giving birth, her face still showing the fullness and joy of being a mother again, and her holding her tiny, pink-cheeked nephew who was crying and could only express himself through his cries...

In the blink of an eye, the sky fell and the earth collapsed, and she became a widow!
A tremendous wave of sorrow and grief instantly overwhelmed Yang Guangming, almost suffocating him. He squeezed his eyes shut, suppressing the lump in his throat and the tears welling up in his eyes.

Now that things have come to this, no amount of grief can bring the deceased back to life.

Right now, there are only four urgent things to do: soothe the eldest sister's near-collapse; properly arrange the brother-in-law's funeral; hold the apprentice Li Erzhu accountable for the operational error; and most importantly and urgently, negotiate with the factory to strive for the most generous compensation and long-term compensation terms possible!

This accident was extremely serious, and the responsibility lies entirely with the factory's operators.

The standards for survivor's benefits and the subsequent livelihood security for surviving family members must be strived for at the highest possible level!

This directly relates to the livelihoods of my sister, Honghong, and my one-month-old nephew for the next ten years or so!
This thought weighed heavily on his heart like a rock, giving him an almost cold, supportive strength.

After calming his turbulent emotions, Yang Guanghui pulled Yang Guangming through the silent and sorrowful crowd to the cadre in the gray Zhongshan suit.

The cadre was around fifty years old, with a somber expression, furrowed brows, and eyes filled with a heavy sense of responsibility and worry.

"Director Ma." Yang Guanghui's voice was respectful, but also carried a hint of barely perceptible pleading. "This is my younger brother, Yang Guangming. He works in the office of Hongxing State-owned Cotton Mill and is currently the full-time secretary of Deputy Secretary Zhao Guodong."

He then turned to Yang Guangming and introduced him, "Guangming, this is Ma Xiangwen, the factory director of our Dongfang Machinery Factory, who is in charge of production safety."

Ma Xiangwen's gaze immediately fell on Yang Guangming, scrutinizing him.

Although the young man's eyes were also red, revealing the turmoil in his heart, his posture was upright, and his eyes were sharp and calm, like a sword hidden in its sheath, completely different from the family members around him who were immersed in great grief.

Having seen countless people, Ma Xiangwen immediately realized that this was probably the key figure in the Wang family who could take charge, communicate effectively, and perhaps even be the most difficult to deal with.

He extended his hand, his voice low and solemn, carrying an official sorrow and a procedural sincerity:
"Hello, Comrade Yang Guangming. I am Ma Xiangwen. The factory is deeply saddened by this accident. On behalf of the factory's Party Committee and the Factory Committee, I would like to express my deepest condolences to Comrade Wang Jianjun and my sincere sympathies to your family."

His palms were slightly damp and cold, and his grip on his hand was just right.

Yang Guangming reached out and shook his hand. His voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable weight and penetrating power, clearly reaching Ma Xiangwen's ears:

"Director Ma, thank you for coming so quickly. I've already heard about the accident from my older brother."

His gaze was fixed on Ma Xiangwen. “The responsibility is very clear. My brother-in-law, Wang Jianjun, died tragically while on duty due to someone else’s serious violation of operating procedures. He himself was completely innocent and had no fault whatsoever.

Ma Xiangwen nodded, a subtle, complex emotion flashing in his eyes.

The other party immediately and accurately pointed out the responsibility, speaking with a resolute tone. They were clearly knowledgeable and likely very familiar with the factory's accident handling procedures and labor protection policies. They were definitely not the kind of family members who could be easily appeased or fooled.

"Yes, yes, the preliminary investigation confirms this. The factory feels deeply ashamed and heartbroken. It was our inadequate safety management that led to this tragedy."

He sounded very sincere, "Please, family members, take heart. The factory will definitely take full responsibility!"

The factory will cover all of Comrade Wang Jianjun's funeral expenses, and will do so to the highest standard.

I will personally oversee the subsequent compensation and standards, and do my utmost to negotiate the best possible terms with the factory.

He paused, then emphasized, "I will immediately return to the factory to convene an emergency meeting tonight, establish a special funeral committee, discuss the final determination of the accident's nature, the specific details of the compensation plan, the detailed arrangements for the funeral, and submit them to higher authorities for approval. The procedures will be completed as soon as possible!"

Yang Guangming listened quietly, his gaze never leaving Ma Xiangwen's face, as if trying to capture every subtle piece of information from the other's expression and tone.

After Ma Xiangwen finished speaking, he calmly opened his mouth, his voice low but each word clear:

"Director Ma, thank you for your statement. What we, the family, need most right now is the factory's final determination of the nature of Comrade Wang Jianjun's sacrifice."

He deliberately emphasized the word "sacrifice," conveying an undeniable sense of conviction: "He died unexpectedly while working at the factory due to the operational error of others."

I believe that this should undoubtedly be classified as 'sacrifice in the line of duty'!
This is a matter of principle, and there is absolutely no room for discussion.

The words "sacrificed in the line of duty" were like a heavy stone thrown into seemingly calm water, instantly making Ma Xiangwen's eyes serious, and his pupils contracted imperceptibly.

This characterization is of great significance.

It directly determines the starting point and framework of subsequent compensation standards!

In the hierarchical compensation system of state-owned factories, the compensation for "death on duty" is second only to that of "martyr," far exceeding that of ordinary "accidental death" or "sudden death from illness," and even further exceeding the compensation standards for "death due to operational errors" or "death due to violation of rules and regulations."

The final determination of the nature of this fatal accident will affect the monthly wage multiple of the one-time death benefit, the amount of the long-term survivor's pension, and even the priority and job placement of the replacement position.

Yang Guangming didn't give the other party much time to think or weigh the pros and cons. He continued, his logic sound and his pace steady:

"Only by clearly defining 'death in the line of duty' can the subsequent standards for pension payments, long-term survivor's pensions, and most importantly, the implementation of 'substitute' job quotas have a clear and unshakable policy basis!"
Our family's demands are not high; we only ask that the factory be truthful and provide Comrade Wang Jianjun with the honor and protection he deserves! This is the only point…”

He emphasized again, "This is the basis for all subsequent negotiations, and there must be no ambiguity or compromise!"

Looking at the sharp-eyed, articulate, and resolute young man before him, Ma Xiangwen's last thought of being vague about the nature of the death, or even trying to persuade the family to accept the "work-related death" standard, was completely extinguished.

The other party not only understands the policies, but also has a firm will and clear thinking; every word they say hits the nail on the head.

He hesitated for a moment, then his face showed a deeper pain and solemnity. He nodded forcefully, his voice becoming more resolute:

"Comrade Yang Guangming, you're right!"
Comrade Wang Jianjun tragically died while on duty due to the mistake of others. He himself was conscientious and dutiful and had no fault whatsoever.

The factory will definitely conduct a thorough and serious assessment of the nature of this accident!
On behalf of the factory's Party Committee and the accident investigation team, I, Ma Xiangwen, here declare that the accident investigation results and the final characterization report will clearly state "sacrificed in the line of duty"!
I assure you of this! We will never let the families of the victims feel disheartened!

His words carried weight and carried the force of an official commitment.

Hearing Ma Xiangwen's clear verbal promise, Yang Guangming's tense nerves relaxed slightly.

With the definition of "sacrifice in the line of duty" as a premise and an unshakable framework, there is a solid policy foundation and legal basis for subsequent efforts to obtain specific compensation.

But this is just the beginning.

"Okay, with Director Ma's words, we family members feel a little more at ease."

Yang Guangming's tone softened somewhat, but the vigilance and calmness in his eyes remained undiminished. "Then, the factory needs to come up with a detailed preliminary written plan as soon as possible, including the specific amount of the one-time death benefit, the standard for distributing long-term survivor's benefits, the specific implementation method and job nature of the 'substitute' work, and the specific specifications and procedures for the funeral."

We, the family members, understand that the factory needs to follow procedures, but we also hope that the process can be more efficient, after all…”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the grief-stricken Mr. Wang. He didn't continue, but everyone understood his unspoken meaning—the deceased need to rest in peace, the living need support, and grieving families cannot afford a long wait and endless disputes.

Ma Xiangwen immediately chimed in, his tone sincere:

"We understand, we completely understand! We feel the same way the family members feel."

After I returned to the factory, I immediately contacted the heads of the Party Committee, the Factory Committee, the Trade Union, the Safety Department, and the Labor and Wages Department to form a joint funeral committee and held a meeting overnight!
"I will personally come with the preliminary draft of the compensation plan details by 9:00 AM tomorrow at the latest to formally communicate and negotiate with the family representatives."

He glanced at the grief-stricken Mr. Wang and the silent Yang family father and son, and his voice lowered, "If the family has no major objections to the whole process and the compensation plan, we will proceed according to custom and the principle of burying the deceased as soon as possible."

He carefully chose his words, "The day after tomorrow, a memorial service will be held for Comrade Wang Jianjun, and cremation and burial will be arranged."

Time is indeed tight, but this is to allow the deceased to rest in peace as soon as possible and to provide the family with the comfort and support they deserve. Do you think the family can accept this arrangement?

Yang Guangming knew perfectly well that this was the standard procedure for handling such major accidents.

The factory needs to act quickly to quell the impact and stabilize production; the families, under the immense shock of grief, also need a clear and step-by-step arrangement to settle their minds and bodies and avoid falling into deeper despair amidst the chaos.

He looked at his father, Yang Yongkang, and his elder brother, Yang Guanghui.

Yang Yongkang remained silent, his gaze vacant as he stared into the void, as if his soul had left his body. Yang Guanghui, his eyes red-rimmed, looked at his younger brother and nodded vigorously, his eyes filled with dependence and trust, indicating that he would leave everything to his brother's decision.

"can."

Yang Guangming, representing the family, agreed in a calm voice, "We'll proceed according to the process Director Ma outlined."

We'll be waiting for you at home tomorrow morning at nine o'clock.

We hope that the factory's proposed solution will demonstrate a high degree of responsibility towards employees who "sacrificed their lives on duty," and will also reflect the organization's care and warmth.

Our family will also make the necessary preparations.

"Absolutely! Absolutely! Please rest assured, family members!"

Ma Xiangwen repeatedly assured him, his attitude appearing very sincere.

He added, "Tonight, the factory will arrange for union and workshop staff to assist the family members with some follow-up matters."

If family members have any temporary needs, such as tea, a simple meal, or need someone to run errands, they can let them know.

He pointed to the two middle-aged men in work clothes who had been standing silently beside him; they were clearly the contacts assigned by the factory.

After the business was finished, the tense atmosphere between the two eased a little.

In this brief moment of calm.

A heart-wrenching wail, almost piercing the roof of the hospital corridor, swept in from the other end of the corridor like a thunderclap!

"Jianjun—my son—!!!"

It was an old woman's desperate, blood-stained cry, filled with the despair of impending death.

"Jianjun—! Jianjun—how could you abandon us—!!!"

This was followed by a young woman's piercing scream, her voice sharp and broken, filled with a despair and a sense of hopelessness.

Accompanying the deafening cries were chaotic footsteps and frantic attempts to comfort the victims.

Yang Guangming and Ma Xiangwen simultaneously turned their heads sharply to look.

Yang Xianglan, Wang Jianjun's mother, Wang Shi, and Zhang Xiuying were seen being supported and helped by four or five neighbors as they stumbled and staggered over.

Yang Xianglan's hair was disheveled, and a few strands were stuck to her pale, paper-white face with tears.

She was wearing a worn-out blouse, her eyes were unfocused and vacant, she had lost all focus, and she just instinctively cried out her husband's name over and over again. Her body was almost completely limp, and she was only able to stay upright because two middle-aged women next to her were holding her arms tightly.

Wang Jianjun's mother, surnamed Wang, went completely insane.

Her hair was disheveled, with gray hair clinging messily to her sweaty forehead, and there was a noticeable purplish-blue bruise on her temple.

Tears and snot streamed down his face, mingling with dust and forming streaks of filth.

She struggled desperately, like a wounded mother beast, letting out howls that were not human, her throat hoarse from screaming, emitting hoarse "hoarse" sounds.

Her withered arms flailed wildly with astonishing strength, almost breaking free from those supporting her, desperately trying to rush into the tightly closed morgue door, a symbol of death.

Zhang Xiuying was caught in the middle of the two, and her situation was equally bad.

Her face was ashen, her lips trembled, and she didn't let out a loud cry, but tears flowed silently like a broken string of pearls, soaking the front of her clothes.

She seemed to have lost all her strength and soul, her eyes filled with fear and confusion. She was only able to stay upright because a familiar auntie next to her was holding her up tightly.

Looking at the horrific state of her daughter and mother-in-law, she was overwhelmed with grief and fear, losing even the strength to cry out.

The coworker who relayed the message to the Wang family only vaguely said, "Something terrible has happened. He was rushed to the hospital and is in great danger," without daring to say directly that he had died.

This vague and devastating news had already shattered their spirits, but when they rushed to the hospital emergency room, feeling like they were walking on cotton, and anxiously inquired, they were met with the nurse's cold and direct notification of death.

This devastating news, like a bolt from the blue, instantly shattered the last shred of the three women's fragile mental defenses.

Upon seeing this scene, the workers gathered at the entrance of the morgue made way for them, their faces filled with deep reluctance, sympathy, and a profound sense of shared sorrow.

Suppressed sighs and low sobs rose again from the crowd.

Yang Guangming immediately pushed through the crowd and rushed forward, joining his neighbor to support the eldest sister, Yang Xianglan, who was about to collapse.

"Sister! Sister! Calm down!" His voice was urgent and heartbroken as he tried to bring her back to her senses.

But Yang Xianglan seemed to hear nothing. Her world was filled with a huge, unfillable void. All she knew was to cry out her husband's name in despair!
Wang's wails were deafening, filled with heart-wrenching, desperate pain.

“Let them…go in and take one last look…” an elderly neighbor, her eyes red and her voice choked with sobs, said to Yang Guangming and Ma Xiangwen, her voice filled with unbearable sorrow, “It’s his last look…he has to be allowed…to see him…to say goodbye…”

Ma Xiangwen nodded heavily, his facial muscles twitching slightly with unbearable pain. At this moment, any attempt to dissuade him would be futile, even inhumane.

The heavy little door to the morgue was slowly opened by the guards who had been silently watching over it.

A stronger, colder smell of formalin mixed with other preservatives suddenly wafted out, carrying a sinister chill unique to death.

With the help of their neighbors and almost half-carrying, half-dragging support, the three crying and struggling women were carried into the small door that symbolized the end of their lives.

Almost immediately, even more shrill, desperate, and heart-wrenching cries came from inside!
The sound pierced through the thick door panel, striking the eardrums and hearts of everyone in the corridor.

That is the heart-wrenching pain of a mother losing her son, the soul-crushing wound of a wife losing her husband, and the profound sorrow of a mother-in-law losing her son-in-law.

The cries mingled together, forming a massive, soul-stirring torrent of grief that made everyone outside the door feel suffocated, unable to bear listening, turning their heads away or bowing their heads and silently weeping.

Yang Guangming, Yang Yongkang, Yang Guanghui, Master Wang, and all the men present stood silently outside the door, like rows of silent reefs, bearing the impact of the grief-stricken waves inside.

No one spoke; the air seemed to have frozen solid.

Only heavy breathing, suppressed sobs, and the incessant, heart-wrenching cries from inside the door echoed in this corridor shrouded in the shadow of death.

Time seemed to stretch out infinitely in this overwhelming grief, every minute and every second an agony.

After a long time...

The crying inside gradually weakened, turning into intermittent, exhausted sobs and whimpers, like the final flicker of a candle in the wind.

The neighbors struggled and carefully helped the three women, who were almost exhausted, out of the house, carrying and supporting them.

Yang Xianglan's eyes were completely vacant, her face streaked with tears, her body limp like a lump of mud without a skeleton, her eyes staring blankly ahead, letting people do as they pleased, as if her soul had already vanished along with the coldness behind that door.

Wang seemed to have exhausted all her life force and madness. She stopped struggling and crying, and just stared blankly at the pale ceiling light in the corridor. Her turbid tears flowed silently and continuously, winding down her deep wrinkles.

She seemed to have been completely drained, leaving only an old and desperate shell.

Zhang Xiuying leaned against her neighbor, her eyes closed, her body still trembling, occasionally letting out a suppressed sob or two.

After Ma Xiangwen and the others calmed down a bit, they stepped forward and expressed their deepest condolences and apologies to Wang Jianjun's mother, Wang Shi, and his wife, Yang Xianglan. Their attitude was very sincere and their tone was heavy.

However, both of them seemed to be in a daze and did not give any response.

Ma Xiangwen then walked to Master Wang, who was still slumped on the ground, silently weeping, and Yang Yongkang, who remained silent. Finally, he looked at Yang Guangming, shook his hand firmly, and whispered:
"Please accept my condolences. I'll go back to the factory right away and start the process immediately. Let's meet and talk tomorrow morning at nine o'clock."

"Thank you for your trouble, Director Ma." Yang Guangming's voice was filled with deep fatigue and hoarseness.

Ma Xiangwen glanced again at the family shrouded in immense grief, and sighed heavily, a sigh filled with complex emotions.

He turned around and, with two other factory cadres accompanying him, hurriedly left the corridor soaked in sorrow.

Under the dim lights, which exuded an atmosphere of disinfectant and grief, only heartbroken family members, silent and sorrowful coworkers, and a few kind neighbors remained in the corridor.

Mr. Wang slumped back onto the cold cement floor, burying his head deep in his knees, his shoulders heaving silently and violently.

The suppressed sobs, like the low growls of a wounded wild beast, sounded exceptionally clear in the silence.

Yang Yongkang remained leaning against the mottled wall, like a sculpture that had completely lost its soul. His once stern and shrewd eyes were now empty and blank, staring blankly at a point in the void ahead, without any focus.

Yang Guanghui squatted at his father's feet, covering his face with his hands, suppressed sobs leaking intermittently from between his fingers, his shoulders trembling with each sob.

The women leaned on each other, supported by their neighbors, and sat on two old benches that someone had found in the nearby storeroom.

Yang Xianglan stared blankly at her toes; Wang Shi stared vacantly at the ceiling; Zhang Xiuying closed her eyes, her body still trembling slightly. Their tears fell silently and continuously, dripping onto their clothes.

The devastating and sudden bad news weighed heavily on everyone's hearts.

All the joy, all the expectations, all the hopes for the future were utterly crushed and reduced to dust by the merciless wheel of fate at this moment.

Outside the corridor, dusk was falling, and even the warm May breeze seemed unable to penetrate the solidified sorrow.

The boundless darkness and bone-chilling cold swallowed everything here.

　P.S.: I finished writing this chapter with immense difficulty. If it weren't for the needs of the plot, I really wouldn't want to let these words flow out.

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(End of this chapter)