Zhao Lingcheng didn’t hear clearly and thought his ex-wife had come to transfer her household registration.
Logically, she should have moved it when they divorced. But not only did she not do that, she repeatedly used it as an excuse to ask him for money.
He couldn’t be bothered to indulge her, so he had already told the security office to reject all her letters and telegrams. Yet she had still come in person?
Continuing to tap on his abacus, he said, “Have a service soldier accompany her to handle it.”
Commissar Qi asked again, “Have you had dinner? Do you want me to have someone get food for you from the canteen?”
The verification was about to finish. The monitoring task had no issues, and they could move on to the next stage.
Zhao Lingcheng only had one task left—writing the report. As for the canteen food, just thinking about it made him nauseous.
“No need. I’ll cook some noodles when I get home,” he said.
Commissar Qi thought he understood. Half a year ago, he had mediated Zhao Lingcheng’s divorce case.
Through the door, he advised, “When you get home, don’t lose your temper again. Xiao Chen is pregnant—you should be considerate and understanding. As for the housework…”
With a loud bang, the door opened. Zhao Lingcheng stood there with his sleeves rolled up and his shirt collar open. “What?”
Then he asked, “We’re already divorced. Why would she go to my home?”
Commissar Qi shot back, “She’s pregnant with your child and has already applied to remarry. Didn’t you agree? Besides, since you’re getting remarried and the guesthouse is full, I told her to stay at your place. What’s the problem?”
So his ex-wife was not only pregnant but had come to reconcile and remarry?
Zhao Lingcheng slammed the door shut.
Commissar Qi believed the child belonged to Zhao Lingcheng because Zhao Hui believed it.
Zhao Hui believed it because she trusted Chen Mianmian’s character.
But Zhao Lingcheng’s intense reaction was precisely because of his ex-wife’s character.
He yanked the door open again, furious. “You believe whatever she says?”
Commissar Qi was baffled. “Zhao Hui is your aunt. Shouldn’t I believe her?”
Zhao Lingcheng slammed the door shut again.
Why was his aunt involved now?
He needed time to process this.
Commissar Qi knocked again. “The child is about to be born—why are you still making a fuss?”
He added, “The old general has been patient enough, but you should give him a next generation.”
Zhao Lingcheng stiffened. “My grandfather knows already?”
Without him knowing, it had even reached the old man at home?
Commissar Qi hurriedly said, “Zhao Hui specifically told me—you should personally deliver the good news.”
Then he held up a file. “I also brought Xiao Chen’s itinerary for the past six months.”
Zhao Lingcheng replied bluntly, “Not interested.”
After a while, footsteps echoed down the corridor as Commissar Qi left.
Zhao Lingcheng looked back at the neat, clean desk, his mind blank.
His two-year marriage felt like a sandstorm—just recalling it triggered him.
What was even more ironic was that he had once had hopes for marriage.
Most people at the base had arranged marriages, and they all seemed to live well afterward.
Since childhood, he had heard elders say that simple, hardworking people were the most admirable.
Because of a falling-into-water incident, the girl accused him of pushing her in and assaulting her.
In his memory, she had short hair, almost like a buzz cut, wore patched clothes, and had dark purplish-red blotches on her cheeks—like a tomboy.
Yet from the production team leader to her mother to the villagers, everyone praised her as hardworking, simple, warm, and kind.
He remembered what the leader had said—“from the masses, to the masses”—so he agreed to marry her.
She was barely literate and couldn’t communicate well, so he sent her to school.
To have a common language, he even enrolled her in foreign language classes.
Back then, the thin girl followed behind him with her bundle, her cheeks flushed dark purple and bluish-red.
He had once imagined that after finishing her studies, she would transform. But…
He pushed aside the abacus, picked up a pen, and closed his eyes briefly, finally forcing his scattered thoughts into focus.
This was the last set of data—he could not make a mistake. Absolutely not.
…
In front of the apartment building, a group of five- or six-year-old children were playing noisily.
Now and then, there was a sizzling sound accompanied by the aroma of food—families were cooking dinner.
Zhao Lingcheng’s home was in the unit closest to the wall. Next to it was a farm still being reclaimed.
As Chen Mianmian walked by, a child saw her and shouted, “Look, the blind one!”
Another turned and cried out, “Wow, the blind one is here!”
Zhao Lingcheng’s home was on the first floor. Standing on tiptoe, Chen Mianmian felt along the doorframe from memory and retrieved the key.
Just as she opened the door, the neighbor next door came out. “Xiao… Xiao Chen?”
She then scolded the children, “Don’t give people nicknames!”
The children called Chen Mianmian “Blindie,” but she smiled and said, “Sister Sun, I’m back.”
It was hot, and she wore only a thin cotton shirt. Her belly was swollen. Sun Bingyu stared in shock.
A child ran over and asked, “Blindie, didn’t you leave? Why are you back?”
He added, “You don’t know—Uncle Zhao has been so happy lately.”
Sun Bingyu quickly scolded her son, “Zhanzhan, don’t talk nonsense.”
Clearly, the couple had reconciled—children shouldn’t say such things carelessly.
Seeing a thick layer of dust inside the house, Sun Bingyu said, “Come sit at my place. Let the service soldier clean up for you.”
In the northwestern desert, if you didn’t clean daily, the house would quickly become unlivable.
Chen Mianmian thanked her but walked out of the unit, stood on tiptoe, and felt along a crack in the bricks, retrieving another set of keys.
Across from her was the wall, and next to it were three old single-story houses. She walked up to one of them.
The children followed behind. Zhanzhan whispered, “She has lots of ‘blindies’ hidden in that house.”
Another boy wanted to step forward, but Zhanzhan quickly said, “Don’t—she’ll hit people.”
These were abandoned empty houses. The original owner had locked them and didn’t allow children to get close.
But Chen Mianmian wasn’t that person. She looked at the children. “If you’re curious, come take a look.”
But as soon as she finished speaking, Zhanzhan turned and ran, and the others screamed and scattered.
…
Taking a deep breath, Chen Mianmian pushed the door open.
Even though she had the memory, she was still shocked at the sight.
Animal hides were strung together with reeds and hung upside down, the smooth sides facing outward—at first glance, they looked like hanging bats.
The room was pitch dark, and she didn’t dare go in. She just pulled one hide from the doorway.
Zhanzhan somehow crept closer. “Wow—Blindie skin!”
Sun Bingyu also came over, amazed. “Xiao Chen, you skinned these so cleanly, and they’re well dried too.”
Zhanzhan clung to his mother’s leg. “Mom, catch me one too! I want one!”
Sun Bingyu laughed. “You little rascal, there aren’t any left here.”
Originally, these animals had been a plague at the base. But in just two years, Chen Mianmian had caught every single one.
Anyone from the northwest knew how valuable their hides were.
Winters on the Gobi could freeze people to death, but these hides were even warmer than wolf or bear fur.
A pair of shoes made from them would keep your feet warm all winter.
As Sun Bingyu marveled, Chen Mianmian pulled down another hide and handed both to her.
“Sister Sun, use these to make Zhanzhan a pair of winter shoes. They’re a gift.”
Sun Bingyu exclaimed, “Really?”
Zhanzhan grabbed them excitedly. “Wow! I have two ‘Blindie’ skins!”
Sun Bingyu hesitated. “These skins… aren’t they…”
The previous owner liked hoarding things but never gave them away or sold them.
That was because she had a hoarding disorder—it was a kind of illness.
Also, Wang Ximei had always told her that raising her was a greater kindness than heaven or sea.
So anything she had, she would hand over to her mother to repay that kindness.
To put it bluntly, Wang Ximei raised her daughter like livestock.
And she succeeded—both daughters were best at repaying their mother’s “kindness.”
Seeing Chen Mianmian lock the door and leave, Sun Bingyu chased after her. “I can’t just take these for free—name a price.”
Under the light, she examined them closely. “Not a single bug hole—these are excellent skins.”
Chen Mianmian lowered her voice. “Sister Sun, on the black market, aren’t these worth two or three yuan each?”
That was indeed the price.
At the time, even the best milk powder cost only eighty cents per jin, so these hides were extremely valuable.
People who managed to buy one would often split it in half to make shoe uppers or knee pads.
Using two full hides to make a pair of shoes wasn’t just expensive—it was nearly impossible.
Thinking of Chen Mianmian’s strange temperament, Sun Bingyu didn’t dare take advantage of her. “I’ll give you two yuan per hide.”
Chen Mianmian pretended to snatch them back, smiling. “If you insist on paying, then I won’t give them to you.”
She patted her belly. “A close neighbor is better than a distant relative. I’ll need your help in the future—just take them.”
Sun Bingyu felt she was a bit different from before but couldn’t pinpoint how.
Getting two hides for free, she went home overjoyed.
Chen Mianmian was also thrilled. She hadn’t expected to find such treasure.
With a whole room full of hides, she was going to make a fortune—she would sell them all for money.
Back home, the service soldier had already cleaned the living room and floor and was now tidying the kitchen.
By regulation, service soldiers didn’t clean kitchens, so Chen Mianmian said, “Thank you. I’ll take care of the rest.”
After some polite words, the soldier left with the trash. Sun Bingyu came in just then, holding a few eggs.
“You’re too thin—eat some eggs and nourish yourself,” she said with a smile.
Chen Mianmian had been wondering what to eat for dinner. With eggs and some milk powder, that would be a decent meal.
She had just taken the eggs and was about to say something when Sun Bingyu suddenly said, “Oh—Lingcheng is back?”
Chen Mianmian immediately set the eggs down and went to open the door with a smile. “Lingcheng, come in—I’ve been waiting for you.”
But something was off. There was no one in the hallway.
Sun Bingyu also found it strange. “I clearly saw him outside the window just now. Where did he go?”
Then she added, “Maybe I was mistaken. Get some rest—I’ll go wash the dishes.”
It seemed like a false alarm. Humming a tune, Chen Mianmian began washing the pots and dishes.
She boiled water, her stomach growling. The baby was squirming too—clearly hungry.
She cracked three eggs at once—milk powder poached eggs. The aroma was irresistible.
Holding the bowl, she blew on it as she drank, determined to fill herself up.
But she had just taken a sip when a man’s voice came from outside the window:
“…Why did you come back again?”