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As soon as Zhong Guosheng opened his eyes, he became the orphan of a martyr who starved to death in No. 95 Nanluogu Lane in 1965.
Father Zhong Dashan died defending the steel rolling mill and was posthumously regarded as a martyr. My mother was seriously ill and had no money for medical treatment, so she passed away. The whereabouts of the pension were unknown, and the work station left by his father was replaced by someone else.
Under the guise of "mutual help", the whole hospital squeezed a child without a father and mother to death - forcing him to pay money, forcing him to clean the yard, and forcing him to empty the urinal. If he resisted even a little bit, Silly Zhu would punch him and kick him. He tried going to the street office and the police station, but all he got in return was a light "It's a joke."
Don’t you want to unite? Don’t you want to be a group?
Then let this collective have a good time in the sun.
The Ministry of Metallurgical Industry, newspapers, municipal bureaus, martyrs' families offices, and the cutest person - letters were sent out one by one.
Not enough.
Relying on his original memory, Zhong Guosheng walked into the broadcast room of the steel rolling mill and locked the door.
That day, the big horn of the steel rolling mill rang, and the sound spread throughout the factory, office building, and nearby streets and alleys.
"My name is Zhong Guosheng. My father, Zhong Dashan, died defending this factory. I would like to ask the factory to answer - where is my father's pension? Where is my work station? Where is the treatment for the orphans of martyrs?"
Zhong Guosheng spoke clearly into the loudspeaker for every letter sent and every receiving unit.