The room was deathly silent.
Outside the window, the last trace of daylight was swallowed by the dark ink-black night, which ruled over the entire military compound with absolute dominance.
That letter from the capital lay there on the floor.
Thin paper, yet carrying the weight of a thousand pounds.
Su Wanqing felt chilled to the bone.
The cold burst from her chest, crawling along her veins to freeze her limbs, pinning her in place.
She had married a hero—a mountain who could shield her from wind and rain.
At this moment, she realized that this mountain itself was on the verge of collapse.
The “home” he spoke of was a pit far more complex and terrifying—thousands of times deeper—than Zhao Family Village or Li Juan’s maternal home.
And she, Su Wanqing, along with this marriage, was the “trouble” that must be “dealt with” before he returned to that abyss.
Silence tore open a huge rift between the two.
Su Wanqing looked at Lu Zhanting.
He sat on the sofa, his back as taut as a drawn bow—a wild beast trapped in an invisible cage.
He didn’t look at her; his gaze was unfocused, fixed on the empty wall.
The comforting scent of sunshine and soap nuts that always reassured her was gone, replaced by a cold, repelling deathly silence.
She opened her mouth, but her throat felt stuffed with cotton, not a single word could be uttered.
Comfort? Promise?
In the face of absolute power that could determine an officer’s future, any words would be light and meaningless.
Just when the silence seemed about to freeze into eternity, Lu Zhanting moved.
He slowly bent down and picked up the letter.
His knuckles were stiff, but he carefully folded the letter along its old creases, meticulously returning it to the wax-sealed envelope stamped with the character “Lu.”
He neither hid it nor discarded it.
He placed the letter in the most conspicuous spot on the tea table, like an undetonated bomb.
Then he stood and walked step by step toward Su Wanqing.
His tall figure completely overshadowed her, even stealing the faint starlight coming through the window.
Su Wanqing instinctively took a step back, her heart pounding like a drum.
Was this an apology, or… a farewell?
Lu Zhanting said nothing.
He reached out with a rough hand covered in thick calluses, hesitantly and almost timidly touched her cheek.
His fingertips were icy cold.
“Hungry, right?” he finally spoke, his voice hoarse as if ground by grit. “I’ll cook.”
After saying that, he turned and staggered toward the kitchen like a defeated soldier crawling out of a mountain of corpses and blood.
Su Wanqing froze in place, watching his bleak, exhausted figure, tears rolling down her cheeks without warning.
No explanation, no negotiation, no word about the future.
With these simplest words, he temporarily pulled them back from the nightmare called “the capital.”
In his own way, he was saying: Even if the sky falls, you have to eat first.
That night, no one mentioned the letter again.
They ate, washed, and lay on the same bed as usual.
But the distance between them was farther than ever, like separated by an icy river.
They faced away from each other in the dark, listening to the deliberately slowed breaths of the other and their own wildly beating hearts.
Su Wanqing knew Lu Zhanting was using silence to protect her.
Or rather, to protect the fragile happiness between them—so fragile it could shatter with a single knock.
He bore all the pressure and decisions alone.
And she, besides waiting for the verdict, seemed powerless.
The next morning, Su Wanqing was awakened by the sharp “crackling” sounds of chopping wood in the courtyard.
She opened her eyes; the space beside her was already cold, meaning he had been up for a long time.
Wrapping a robe around herself, she walked into the courtyard.
In the dim morning light, Lu Zhanting stood shirtless, mechanically swinging an axe.
Sweat dripped from his forehead, sliding down his firm jawline into his solid chest.
The woodpile beside him was already half a person’s height—a small mountain enough to burn through two winters.
He was venting.
Venting his suppressed frustration and helplessness.
Su Wanqing’s heart felt clenched by an invisible hand.
She didn’t interrupt and quietly returned to the kitchen to make fire and boil water.
Breakfast was as heavy and stiff as iron.
Lu Zhanting buried his head in his porridge.
Su Wanqing wanted to speak several times but swallowed the words each time.
Suddenly, Lu Zhanting put down his bowl.
“It’s going to get cold in a few days,” he looked up, eyes falling on the poplar tree outside the window, which was starting to yellow. “We haven’t stored enough for winter yet. This afternoon we’ll go to the supply store to buy cotton and fabric, then haul back a few hundred jin of coal.”
Su Wanqing froze.
He didn’t mention the capital, didn’t mention the Lu family, didn’t mention that damn engagement.
He was just saying: The weather is turning cold; we need to prepare for winter.
As if the letter from yesterday was just a nightmare she had.
Su Wanqing looked at him.
His eyes were bloodshot, his chin covered in stubble, and his whole body exhausted.
But the way he looked at her was just like before—authoritative, with an unyielding resolve she could understand.
That look said: Don’t be afraid. I’m here.
Her eyes instantly warmed, and she nodded firmly, voice thick with emotion, “Okay.”
From that day on, a strange tacit understanding flowed between them.
No one mentioned the letter, no one mentioned the heavy future.
They were like two birds sensing the coming winter, scrambling frantically to build themselves a warm nest.
In the afternoon, Lu Zhanting somehow borrowed a cart and took Su Wanqing into town.
He pulled out all the money and coupons he had and handed them to her.
“This cotton is thick; I’ll make you a new padded jacket.”
“The curtains should be changed; buy two windproof ones.”
“Buy another ten jin of cotton and make the quilt extra thick.”
He was like the most ordinary husband, accompanying his wife shopping for winter, obliging her every request.
Su Wanqing looked at his serious profile as he carefully compared fabric colors, momentarily believing they could live quietly and steadily in northern frontier all their lives.
On the way back, the cart was piled high like a small mountain.
Lu Zhanting pulled from the front, his muscular arms bulging with veins.
Su Wanqing pushed from behind.
The setting sun stretched their shadows long and far.
“I’ll pull; you sit and rest,” Lu Zhanting turned and saw her flushed cheeks.
“No, I still have strength,” Su Wanqing shook her head and smiled at him.
Looking at his sweat-soaked back, Su Wanqing’s heart suddenly settled.
This was not escape.
This was building walls.
He was using every piece of winter clothing he made with his own hands, every lump of coal he hauled back himself, to reinforce the walls of their little home.
He was telling her—and telling himself—that this home was built brick by brick by them, and no one could tear it down easily.
After returning from the supply store, the two of them became even busier.
Lu Zhanting carried the several hundred pounds of coal balls one by one into the storage room, stacking them neatly like a military formation.
He checked all the doors and windows, sealing every gap tightly with old cloth soaked in yellow mud.
He even climbed onto the roof to hammer back and secure several loose tiles.
Su Wanqing stepped on the old-fashioned sewing machine and began to sew winter clothes for both of them.
She soaked the new cotton fabric she bought in spiritual spring water, making the clothes tougher and warmer.
The rhythmic “tat-tat-tat” of the sewing machine became the most reassuring background sound in the home.
She made him the thickest cotton-padded coat, with fine stitching and filled with soft cotton. Using the leftover fabric, she also made two pairs of thick-soled cotton shoes.
She made herself a bright red cotton-padded jacket, in the currently fashionable fitted-waist style.
Lu Zhanting watched her spin in front of the mirror wearing the new jacket like a burning flame. Leaning against the doorframe, a faint but genuine smile appeared in his tired eyes.
Besides these, Su Wanqing also used the space to prepare true trump cards for the unknown future.
Courage alone wasn’t enough.
The Lu family was an unimaginable giant. She had to have the power to overturn the table.
Using spiritual spring water and precious medicinal herbs from the space, she brewed many ointments.
There was a “Regenerative Ointment” that could quickly stop bleeding and promote wound healing.
A “Detox Pill” that could neutralize all poisons.
And a “Vitality Pill” that could rapidly restore physical strength.
She carefully categorized and packed these into small porcelain bottles, hiding them in the compartments of her suitcase.
She also packed part of the gold bars and silver ingots previously stored in the space warehouse.
In this world where power ruled supreme, money was sometimes a weapon to buy life.
Days slipped by in this outwardly calm but secretly turbulent atmosphere.
Winter in the northern frontier came suddenly.
Overnight, the temperature plummeted, and huge snowflakes filled the sky.
Inside, the stove fire burned fiercely, firmly keeping the cold outside the window.
Su Wanqing wore her red padded jacket, sitting by the fire, knitting a sweater.
Lu Zhanting sat opposite her on a small stool, carefully sharpening his military dagger with a whetstone.
“Shhh… shhh…”
The whetstone rubbed against the blade, producing a rhythmic and dangerous sound.
The fire flickered, illuminating the quiet profiles of the two.
Outside, the wind and snow howled; inside, it was warm as spring.
This peace was stolen.
Su Wanqing counted in her heart—only a few days remained until the deadline stated in the letter.
The sword hanging over their heads could fall at any moment.
“What are you thinking about?” Lu Zhanting suddenly spoke.
He finished sharpening the dagger and slowly wiped the blade with a soft cloth, the cold gleam flashing past.
“Nothing,” Su Wanqing came back to herself and smiled at him. “I was thinking that once this sweater is done, it’ll keep you very warm.”
Lu Zhanting looked at her without speaking.
He put down the dagger, walked over to her, sat close beside her, and then stretched his strong arms around her whole body.
“Wanqing.” He buried his face in her hair, taking a deep breath, his voice filled with undeniable exhaustion and determination. “I’m sorry.”
Su Wanqing’s knitting hands stopped.
It had come.
The final moment had arrived.
“Are you leaving?” she asked softly, her voice so calm it surprised herself.
“Mm.” Lu Zhanting responded gloomily, tightening his arms around her waist suddenly. “Tomorrow.”
Su Wanqing didn’t cry or ask, “Then what will we do?”
She simply rested her head lightly on his shoulder, drawing comfort and strength from his reassuring warmth.
“Lu Zhanting.”
She looked up, staring into his eyes.
Those always clear and bright eyes now burned with two flames, filled with unmistakable determination.
“You said you’re my husband, and your matters are my matters.”
“No matter if the capital is a dragon’s lair or a tiger’s den, I’ll go with you.”
She paused, speaking every word firmly and resolutely.
“We are husband and wife. As long as we’re together, there is nothing to fear.”
Lu Zhanting looked at her, at those eyes brighter than all the stars in the sky reflected by the firelight. At that moment, the fortress in his heart, built with despair and ice, crumbled with a roar.
The oppression, hesitation, anger, and helplessness of recent days all melted away in her words, replaced by a burning force.
He had already prepared for the worst.
If he couldn’t have it all, he would rather take off his uniform and run away with her to a place no one could find.
But she said she wasn’t afraid.
She said she would face it together with him.
He suddenly hugged her tightly, as if wanting to knead her into his very bones and blood, never to part again.
“Okay.”
He solemnly whispered a word in her ear.
“We’ll go together.”
Outside, the wind and snow seemed to grow even stronger.
Inside, the two no longer had any hesitation or unease.
The storm from the capital would eventually arrive.
But this time, he was not alone.
Their hands held tightly, the warmth of their palms gave each other endless courage.