The sky was still shrouded in a dim gray light when the piercing wake-up call rang through the military compound.
The sound cut sharply through the quiet of dawn.
Immediately afterward came the synchronized footsteps and resounding chants from the distant training grounds, injecting a new day’s pulse into this solemn place.
Su Wanqing opened her eyes almost the instant the bugle sounded.
She lay on the wooden bed in the study, momentarily disoriented.
An unfamiliar ceiling. The faint fragrance of mugwort lingering in the air. And the morning light filtering through the curtain seams—so different from the countryside.
Everything reminded her that this was no longer Sujia Village, but a military compound thousands of miles away.
Her life had already turned a brand-new page starting yesterday.
Su Wanqing sat up. Covering her was the new cotton quilt with red peony patterns that her mother had prepared—soft and warm.
She listened carefully. There seemed to be no movement at all in the master bedroom next door.
Where was Lu Zhanting?
When had he come back last night? And how had she fallen asleep?
She only remembered that after the two of them had laid down their “three rules,” the tense atmosphere eased considerably. She returned to her room and lay on the bed, replaying Lu Zhanting’s words over and over in her mind, thoughts in chaos, until she finally drifted off late into the night.
After getting dressed, Su Wanqing lightened her steps and walked out of the room.
The living room was empty. The tablecloth and cushions she had arranged yesterday were still quietly in place.
The master bedroom door was tightly shut.
She walked up to it, hesitated for a moment, then decided not to push it open.
Instead, she turned toward the kitchen, intending to boil some water first. The stove was cold, and the pots and bowls were neatly arranged—clearly unused since last night.
Perhaps he hadn’t come back to sleep at all.
The thought made Su Wanqing feel relieved, yet also stirred an indescribable sense of unease.
She stepped into the courtyard. The morning air carried a chill, refreshing as it filled her lungs.
The yard was still overrun with weeds, but Su Wanqing had already begun planning in her mind—where the sunlight was best for planting tomatoes, and where it was slightly shadier, suitable for leafy greens.
Just then, she saw Lu Zhanting walking in through the courtyard gate.
He had changed out of his crisp cadre uniform and was wearing a white tank top and army-green shorts, revealing solid, bronze-toned arms and long, powerful legs.
Sweat had soaked his tank top, clinging tightly to his body and outlining his broad back and well-defined abs.
A towel hung around his neck, and water droplets still clung to his short hair—he had clearly just returned from morning training.
The morning sun edged him in gold. The masculine strength radiating from his very bones made Su Wanqing’s heart skip a beat.
This was the first time she had seen him like this—so domestic, so full of vitality.
Lu Zhanting noticed her too, his steps faltering slightly, surprise flickering in his eyes.
He likely hadn’t expected her to be up so early.
“Morning,” he said. His deep voice, hoarse from exercise, carried a magnetic rasp.
“Morning.” Su Wanqing averted her gaze awkwardly and nodded. “What do you want for breakfast?”
“No need to worry about me. I’ll eat at the canteen,” Lu Zhanting replied, walking straight inside to pick up a washbasin and towel, clearly intending to go to the communal washroom.
Watching his retreating figure, Su Wanqing spoke almost instinctively, “There’s rice and flour at home. I can cook—it won’t take long.”
This was their first morning as husband and wife.
She didn’t want their first breakfast to be eaten separately.
Lu Zhanting stopped.
He turned back to look at Su Wanqing, standing in the morning light, her figure appearing somewhat slender.
Her eyes were bright, carrying a hint of hesitation and expectation.
The man fell silent for two seconds, then nodded. “Alright.”
With his agreement, Su Wanqing immediately perked up.
The short time Lu Zhanting spent washing up was more than enough for her to prepare a hearty breakfast.
She quickly walked into the kitchen and closed the door.
With a thought, she entered her space.
Time flowed more slowly inside the space, giving her far more leeway.
Without delay, she headed straight for the black soil, picking a few vividly colored tomatoes still beaded with dew, along with a small handful of tender green leafy vegetables.
Then she went to the storeroom and scooped out some plump, space-grown Northeast rice from the rice jar.
After thinking for a moment, she also took out a small bag of finely milled white flour and a few fresh eggs.
Most of these could be explained as “brought from her parents’ home.” As for the especially fresh vegetables, she could only hope Lu Zhanting wouldn’t look too deeply into it.
With everything ready, she quickly returned to the kitchen.
She rinsed the rice and set it to cook, preparing a pot of thick white rice porridge.
Before covering the pot, she discreetly dripped two drops of spirit spring water into it. The water wouldn’t just make the porridge sweeter and softer—it would also quietly nourish the body.
Given Lu Zhanting’s intense training, drinking more of it could only help.
Next, she kneaded the dough. In her hands, the white flour quickly became a smooth dough ball. She set it by the warm stove to rise and began preparing the side dishes.
The fresh greens, simply stir-fried, released their natural sweetness.
The tomatoes were chopped and stir-fried with eggs—sweet and tangy, perfect for stimulating the appetite.
She also sliced a few thin pieces from the cured meat she’d brought, stir-frying them with minced garlic until an irresistible aroma filled the air.
By the time the fragrance of porridge began to spread through the kitchen, the dough had finished rising.
Working swiftly, Su Wanqing divided the dough. Some she shaped into soft white steamed buns; the rest she rolled thin, brushed with scallion oil, and twisted into small, delicate scallion rolls.
Steam rose from the steamer, and soon the plump buns and rolls released a tempting wheat aroma.
When Lu Zhanting finished washing up and returned inside in a clean military uniform, he was greeted by a blend of porridge, wheat, and savory aromas.
This warm, homely scent was utterly different from the cold, rigid atmosphere he remembered from this house, leaving him momentarily dazed.
He walked to the dining table and froze.
The table was already set.
A pot of creamy white porridge, thick and glossy, with a layer of rice oil floating on top.
A plate of vibrant green stir-fried vegetables. A plate of red-and-gold tomato scrambled eggs. And a small dish of sizzling cured meat with garlic.
Beside them, in a bamboo basket, were several steaming, plump white buns and scallion rolls.
This was no simple breakfast—it was more lavish and enticing than a spread from a state-run restaurant.
Su Wanqing came out of the kitchen just then, carrying the last plate of buns. Seeing him standing there, she smiled shyly.
“You’re back. Sit and eat. I didn’t know whether you prefer rice or noodles, so I made a bit of both.”
Lu Zhanting’s gaze slowly shifted from the abundant breakfast to her face.
Her cheeks were flushed from the heat, tiny beads of sweat on her nose, her eyes sparkling—like a child proudly presenting a treasure.
“Thank you for the trouble,” he said. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he forced out the words.
They sat facing each other.
The atmosphere was still quiet, but unlike last night’s negotiation, this silence held a subtle warmth.
Lu Zhanting ladled himself a bowl of porridge.
He had spent years in the army eating mass-cooked meals, where porridge was usually thin and bland. But this bowl—each grain fully bloomed, the broth thick and silky—melted in his mouth.
A rich rice fragrance spread instantly through his palate, sliding down his throat and warming his stomach, soothing his entire body.
He picked up a bun—soft and springy to the touch.
One bite revealed pure wheat aroma with a hint of sweetness, firm yet fluffy.
He still ate quickly, as if carrying out a mission, but his movements unconsciously slowed.
A sip of porridge, a bite of vegetables.
The greens were unbelievably tender. The cured meat was salty and fragrant, perfect with rice. The tomato and egg dish was sweet and tangy.
Every single dish tasted better than anything he had ever eaten before.
Su Wanqing sipped her porridge in small mouthfuls, secretly watching him out of the corner of her eye.
She saw that he barely paused at all—one bowl of porridge was gone in no time, and he served himself a second. The dishes on the table were also visibly disappearing.
A great sense of satisfaction rose in her heart.
There was nothing that made a cook happier than seeing someone truly enjoy their food.
For this single breakfast, Lu Zhanting ate a full three bowls of porridge and five steamed buns, completely clearing the dishes on the table.
When he finally set down his bowl and chopsticks, a thin sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead, and the lines of his perpetually taut face seemed to have softened just a little.
“I’m done eating,” he said, looking at Su Wanqing. There was a trace of contentment in his tone—one even he himself hadn’t noticed.
“Mm.” Su Wanqing also put down her chopsticks and stood up, ready to clear the table.
Just as her hand touched the bowls, a large hand reached over and pressed down on hers.
“Leave it. I’ll do it.”
Lu Zhanting’s voice was low and firm.
Su Wanqing jerked her head up, staring at him in shock, suspecting she’d misheard.
“Y-you… what did you say?”
“I said, I’ll wash them.” Lu Zhanting stood up. He was much taller than Su Wanqing, and when he spoke while standing, she had to tilt her head up to see his expression.
His face was calm, as though he were stating the most ordinary thing in the world.
The calmer he was, the more turbulent Su Wanqing’s heart became.
Wash the dishes?
A grown man—a battalion commander with distinguished military achievements—washing dishes with his own hands?
In an era where “gentlemen stay away from the kitchen” was treated as gospel, and men doing housework were mocked, he had actually volunteered to do the dishes?
“N-no need…” Su Wanqing refused instinctively. “This is my responsibility.”
“The ‘three rules’ didn’t say that washing dishes was your responsibility,” Lu Zhanting replied, his reasoning simple and blunt.
He walked around the table and began clearing the dishes.
His hands were large, with distinct knuckles, the palms and fingertips covered in thick, rough calluses.
These were hands meant to hold a gun—hands that could fight enemies on the battlefield.
And now, those very hands were doing something as trivial as clearing dishes.
The scene felt incongruous, yet strangely harmonious, leaving Su Wanqing momentarily dazed.
“But—”
“There’s no ‘but.’” Lu Zhanting lifted the stacked bowls, his tone resolute, leaving no room for refusal. “You cooked. I wash the dishes. That’s fair.”
With that, he carried the dishes and strode into the kitchen.
Su Wanqing stood frozen, watching his tall figure disappear through the kitchen doorway, unsure how to react.
Soon, the sound of running water came from inside.
She snapped out of it and followed.
Standing at the kitchen doorway, she watched Lu Zhanting at the narrow stove counter.
He was so tall that the counter looked a bit low in front of him, forcing him to bend slightly at the waist.
He clearly wasn’t used to this kind of work—his movements were a little clumsy. But he learned quickly, and soon every bowl was rinsed spotlessly clean.
In Su Wanqing’s heart, it felt as though a small pebble had been tossed in, sending ripples spreading outward.
This man was far better than she had imagined.
It wasn’t that he lacked thoughtfulness—he simply hid it within these quiet actions.
This kind of wordless respect and care was far more moving than any sweet talk.
“Oh, right,” Lu Zhanting said as he washed, not turning his head. “Let me tell you about the situation in the compound.”
Su Wanqing hadn’t expected him to bring up something practical at this moment and quickly focused her attention.
“The row of houses we live in is for battalion-level officers. On the left is Captain Zhang from the Guard Company—his wife is Liu-sao, whom you met yesterday. She’s very warm; if you have small matters, you can ask her for help. On the right is Officer Wang from the regiment’s logistics department. His wife is a gossip—best not to get too close.”
His introductions were concise and direct, his evaluations sharp and to the point.
“Five minutes east of the family quarters is the service cooperative and the clinic. New supplies arrive at the co-op every Wednesday and Saturday—if you want meat and vegetables, you need to queue early. There’s a military doctor surnamed Li at the clinic; his medical skills are quite good. Further on is the children’s school.”
“There’s a post office at the main gate of the compound. Sending letters and picking up parcels are all done there. It closes at five in the afternoon.”
“Don’t wander into the training and office areas, especially near the firing range and armory. The family quarters give you more than enough space to move around.”
“Each month’s allowance and ration coupons—I’ll give them to Chen Gang on the first. He’ll bring them to you. Chen Gang is my orderly. If you need me to handle something and can’t find me, you can go straight to him.”
He listed everything item by item, unhurried, his diction clear—like delivering a mission briefing.
Every piece of information was exactly what Su Wanqing needed to know, clearly mapping out life in the military compound for her.
She listened attentively, committing every word to memory.
She knew this was a survival guide he had distilled from years of living here, tailored specifically for her.
It gave her far more peace of mind than any vague promise ever could.
“I remember,” Su Wanqing replied softly when he finished.
Lu Zhanting washed the last bowl, rinsed his hands with clean water, and casually wiped them on his apron—only then realizing that at some point, he had put on the small, floral apron Su Wanqing had been using earlier.
His tall, imposing frame paired with that petite, flower-patterned apron looked a bit ridiculous.
He noticed it too, and the tips of his ears instantly flushed an unnatural red.
Flustered, he hastily untied the apron and hung it on the wall, his movements tinged with embarrassment.
Seeing his rare moment of awkwardness, Su Wanqing couldn’t help letting out a soft laugh.
Her laughter was crisp and clear, like the tinkling of spring water, echoing in the small kitchen.
Lu Zhanting stiffened and turned to look at her.
Under the light, her eyes curved into crescent moons as she laughed, her face lit with genuine, radiant joy, dispelling the distance and wariness she’d been carrying.
Watching her smile, Lu Zhanting’s gaze darkened, his Adam’s apple bobbing unconsciously.
He felt that the heart which had never faltered amid gunfire and shells was, at this very moment, struck by something unexpected.
“I… I’m heading to the unit.”
He tossed out the words, as if to cover something up, then turned and quickly left the kitchen without looking back.
Su Wanqing watched his almost fleeing retreat, the smile on her face deepening.
This man seemed… kind of adorable.
Morning sunlight streamed through the window into the spotless kitchen, everything looking bright and full of promise.
Leaning against the doorframe, Su Wanqing felt her heart soften completely.
This marriage that had begun as a transaction, this husband who had dropped into her life out of nowhere, didn’t seem nearly as bad as she had imagined.
On the contrary, in his own unique way, he was slowly breaking down the high walls she had built around herself.
For the first time, she felt a real, warm sense of anticipation for this brand-new “home” and for the unknown married life ahead of her.