The morning light filtered through the thin window paper, casting the room in a soft gray-blue. From the distance, the wake-up bugle of the military camp faintly sounded, rousing He Yanzhi from his light sleep.
He opened his eyes almost the instant the bugle sounded, sharp and alert, with no trace of drowsiness. But the next moment, his body reminded him of reality—the warm, fragrant form cradled in his arms, the feel of her hair entwined around his elbow, and the lingering faint scent of the intimacy from the night before.
He Yanzhi lowered his head and saw Chen Shuang still asleep.
She lay on her side, most of her face buried in his shoulder, only revealing a smooth forehead, closed eyes, and the tip of her nose. Her sleeping expression was peaceful, her breathing even, long lashes casting tiny shadows under her eyes, and her lips slightly swollen and red—the marks he had left last night.
His breath grew just a fraction heavier. He gazed at her, his eyes sliding from her smooth forehead to the slightly swollen lips, then to the few strands of black hair scattered across his chest. His arms still encircled her waist, feeling the delicate softness of her figure, her warmth transmitting through the thin cotton pajamas.
This scene felt surreal for a man used to the military rhythm, to the morning bugle signaling the start of action. Yet he did not dislike this unfamiliarity; deep within, he felt an unprecedented sense of peace.
The bugle sounded again faintly, reminding him it was time to get up. He Yanzhi carefully, almost clumsily, tried to withdraw his arm without waking her.
But Chen Shuang seemed to sense the movement, letting out a soft whimper from her nose, instinctively burrowing deeper into his embrace, her forehead brushing against his collarbone.
He Yanzhi froze. He looked down at the woman in his arms, his Adam’s apple moving as he swallowed, and finally exhaled—a motion that carried a self-indulgence he hadn’t realized he possessed.
After lying there for about five more minutes, until the bugle sounded faintly a third time, he knew he could delay no longer. This time, he moved even more gently yet firmly, slowly withdrawing his numb arm, the other hand carefully supporting her head, gradually moving his body away, and gently laying her back on the pillow.
Throughout the process, he held his breath, moving as lightly as if dismantling a bomb.
Chen Shuang furrowed her brow in her sleep but didn’t wake, merely turning over and hugging the blanket to continue sleeping.
He Yanzhi stood by the bed, quietly watching her for a few seconds. In the morning light, her side-lying curve was soft and beautiful, her black hair spread across the pillow. His gaze lingered on the exposed pale neck—there were a few faint red marks, also left the night before.
He quickly looked away, his ears warming. Silently, he dressed in his military uniform, buttoned up, then glanced once more at the bed before gently opening the door and leaving.
In the courtyard, Zhou Ma was already busy in the kitchen. Seeing him come out, she lowered her voice and asked, “Up already? Is Xiaoshuang still asleep?”
“Yes.” He Yanzhi replied briefly and went to the well to wash his face with cold water.
“Let her sleep a bit longer; she was exhausted yesterday,” Zhou Ma said, stirring the porridge with a knowing smile. “I’ve kept breakfast warm in the pot. If you’re busy at noon, I’ll feed her.”
He wiped his face, nodded, and glanced once more at the closed bedroom door before picking up his hat and striding out of the courtyard.
The courtyard returned to silence, with only the faint sounds of Zhou Ma cooking and the ceaseless waves in the distance.
Chen Shuang was awakened by the warmth of sunlight on her eyelids.
She opened her eyes groggily, momentarily disoriented. A strange roof, a strange room, and… half of the bed empty beside her.
Memories surged like a tide—the warm house feast, the small cloth bag He Yanzhi gave her, Zhou Ma’s evasiveness, their gaze under the kerosene lamp, the awkward yet lingering kiss, the shivers as their skin met, the mingling of pain and pleasure…
Her cheeks flamed instantly.
She bolted upright, the thin blanket sliding off, revealing her body clad only in cotton pajamas. The morning chill made her shiver, making her even more aware of the lingering discomfort—sore waist, subtle pain near her legs, and faint stings along her collarbone and chest.
She looked down and pulled open the pajama collar to check—faint red marks were clearly visible on her pale skin. Though shallow, they were obvious in the morning light.
Chen Shuang blushed even more, hurriedly adjusting her collar, heart pounding.
She looked at the empty pillow beside her, still slightly indented, the air lingering with He Yanzhi’s scent—a mix of soap and faint tobacco.
When did he leave? She hadn’t noticed at all.
Clutching the blanket, she sat on the bed, dazed for a long while. Every detail of last night replayed in her mind, making her face burn—his kiss, his hands, his deep hoarse voice, his warm body, and that strange, intimate connection…
“Ah!” she murmured softly, burying her face in the blanket, ears glowing red.
After lingering on the bed for some time, Chen Shuang finally gathered courage to slide out. As her feet touched the floor, the soreness near her legs almost caused her to lose balance, and she steadied herself by holding the bed.
This… this is too…
Biting her lip, she slowly moved to the wardrobe and found clean clothes. Seeing the red marks on her body again made her face heat up. She deliberately chose a cotton shirt with a higher collar, buttoning every button to ensure nothing was visible.
Stepping into the courtyard, the sunlight was just right. Under the grape arbor, Zhou Ma was sorting vegetables and smiled upon seeing her, “Awake? Porridge and buns are warm in the pot; wash up quickly and eat while it’s hot.”
Chen Shuang’s face flushed again, softly saying, “Good morning, Zhou Ma,” and hurried to the well to wash.
The well water was icy, splashing on her face, finally cooling the heat in her cheeks. As she brushed her teeth, she glanced at Zhou Ma. Zhou Ma’s expression was calm, asking nothing, but the barely hidden smile in her eyes told Chen Shuang everything was understood.
After washing, Chen Shuang sat under the grape arbor for breakfast. The white porridge was sticky and soft; the buns were leftover from last night, still fluffy after reheating. She ate in small bites, eyes wandering toward the courtyard gate.
“Yanzhi left before dawn,” Zhou Ma said, as if reading her thoughts. “The army has discipline; he must follow schedule.”
Chen Shuang nodded, feeling an indescribable mix of disappointment and relief—not having to face him in such an awkward morning.
“Leave your bowl; I’ll wash it,” Zhou Ma said. “You stay home and rest today; your health matters.”
“I’m fine, Zhou Ma,” Chen Shuang murmured, cheeks heating.
“Listen to me,” Zhou Ma said firmly. “The first time… always requires easing in. And you were busy all day yesterday; you need rest.”
Chen Shuang didn’t argue, silently finished her breakfast, and took the dishes to the kitchen. Zhou Ma took them and urged her to return to her room to rest.
Back in her room, looking at the bed and recalling last night, the heat returned to her cheeks. She took a deep breath and began tidying the room—anything to keep her mind occupied.
She first changed the bedsheets, carrying last night’s set to the backyard to wash in hot water. Her hand paused at the dark red marks, face flushing, but she diligently cleaned every spot.
After hanging the sheets to dry, she tidied the room. He Yanzhi’s clothes were neatly folded on the bedside; his uniform had been worn, leaving only a few casual clothes. She hung them in the wardrobe beside her own.
Seeing their clothes side by side in the wardrobe, Chen Shuang’s embarrassment gradually transformed into a warm, strange comfort. This place had truly become their shared home.
After finishing the wardrobe, she wiped the furniture and swept the floor. A light sweat broke out, but the soreness eased somewhat.
At noon, Zhou Ma made simple noodles. After eating, Chen Shuang insisted on washing the dishes; Zhou Ma did not stop her.
In the afternoon, with the sun just right, Chen Shuang took a small stool under the grape arbor and brought out her sewing basket. The deep blue wool fabric sent by Zhao Zhengwei and Sister Wang was high quality; she planned to make a coat for He Yanzhi.
Measuring by memory, she estimated his shoulder width, arm length, and torso. Thinking of last night in his embrace, the broad shoulders and solid chest… Chen Shuang blushed again, shaking her head to focus on drawing lines and cutting the fabric.
The needle passed through the thick wool with a faint “shh” sound. Chen Shuang sewed meticulously, time passing slowly in the quiet.
By evening, footsteps came from outside the gate. Chen Shuang looked up and saw He Yanzhi pushing the door open.
He wore a crisp military uniform, his eyes sharp under the cap’s brim, the sunset gilding him with golden edges. Seeing Chen Shuang under the grape arbor, his steps paused, gaze resting on her.
Chen Shuang nearly jumped up, dropping her sewing in surprise. Across half the courtyard, they exchanged a glance, the air thick with unspoken tension.
He Yanzhi looked away first, walking to the well to wash his hands. Chen Shuang bent to pick up the fabric and needles, cheeks flushing again.
“You’re back?” she asked softly, voice awkward.
“Mm.” He Yanzhi dried his hands, turning back to her. “What are you doing?”
“Making a coat for you.” Chen Shuang held up the fabric. “Zhao Zhengwei and Sister Wang sent it.”
He glanced, nodded. “No rush, don’t tire yourself.”
After the brief exchange, silence fell again. Zhou Ma peeked from the kitchen, smiling, “Yanzhi’s back? Perfect, dinner’s almost ready. Xiaoshuang, help me serve.”
Dinner remained subtly tense. He Yanzhi ate quickly as always, but today, Chen Shuang felt his gaze occasionally on her. She kept her head lowered the entire time, almost not daring to meet his eyes.
Afterward, He Yanzhi went to the office as usual to handle paperwork. Chen Shuang and Zhou Ma cleaned the kitchen and boiled water for washing.
That night, when they returned to the bedroom and lit the kerosene lamp, the subtle tension returned.
He Yanzhi sat at the edge of the bed, watching Chen Shuang slowly comb her hair. Her long black hair gleamed softly under the lamp.
“Are you… okay today?” he asked suddenly, voice lower than usual.
Her combing paused, ears turning red. “I’m okay.”
“Still hurting?” he asked more directly.
Her face flushed crimson; she shook her head, voice barely audible. “Not anymore.”
He Yanzhi stood, moving behind her. Chen Shuang saw his reflection approaching in the mirror, heart racing.
He took the wooden comb from her hands, clumsy yet gentle, brushing her long hair. His rough fingers occasionally brushed her neck, sending shivers through her.
“I’ll be careful from now on,” he murmured, eyes meeting hers through the mirror. “I won’t let it hurt too much.”
Chen Shuang bit her lip, unsure what to say, only nodding softly.
That night, He Yanzhi’s touch was gentler and more patient than the previous night. He seemed to be exploring a treasure, carefully guiding her until she completely relaxed and accepted him.
Afterward, he still held her close, large hands stroking her back intermittently. Chen Shuang was exhausted but felt a fullness deep inside.
In the dark, she whispered, “I’ll finish your coat as soon as I can.”
He Yanzhi paused, then kissed the top of her head. “Mm.”
Outside, the waves continued. In this small courtyard, two hearts gradually drew closer through awkward exploration and gentle surrender.