After the storm of rumors had completely settled, life felt like a beach after the tide—calm and open. Chen Shuang’s position in the military family compound had subtly changed—she was no longer the “new wife” who needed to be cautiously tested, but someone who had earned everyone’s genuine respect and acceptance.
Sister Wang often dropped by. She no longer just chatted about daily life, but sometimes even asked Chen Shuang about words and phrases. When other military wives ran into her, their smiles were warmer and more natural. Even Zhang Caifeng, though still a little awkward, no longer deliberately gossiped.
Days passed, and summer arrived in a flash. The grape trellis was heavy with green, unripe fruit, the vegetables in the garden were thriving, and the courtyard was full of life.
That evening, He Yanzhi returned earlier than usual. Chen Shuang was in the kitchen helping Mother Zhou prepare dinner. Hearing the gate, she wiped her hands and stepped outside.
The sunset stretched He Yanzhi’s shadow long across the ground. He stood under the grape trellis, watching Chen Shuang approach. His face was calm, but his eyes were deeper than usual.
“You’re home early today,” Chen Shuang said, taking his hat. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
He Yanzhi took her hand silently and led her inside. Once in the bedroom, he closed the door and finally spoke: “Shuangshuang, I’m going on a mission.”
Chen Shuang’s heart skipped a beat. “A mission? Where? How long?”
“I can’t say the specifics,” He Yanzhi said calmly. “The duration… short, about a month; long, maybe two or three.”
Chen Shuang looked at him, opening her mouth, but words failed her. She knew a soldier’s duty was obedience, and some missions couldn’t be questioned. Yet the sudden anxiety made her fingers grow cold.
“When do you leave?” Her voice sounded tight even to herself.
“The day after tomorrow, early morning.” He Yanzhi pulled her into his arms. “Don’t worry, it’s not dangerous. It just… requires secrecy.”
Chen Shuang buried her face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of soap and sweat, forcing herself to calm down. “I understand. Please… be careful.”
“Mm.” He Yanzhi rested his chin atop her head. “While I’m gone, you and Mother Zhou take care of yourselves. If anything happens, contact Commissioner Zhao or Sister Wang.”
“Don’t worry.” Chen Shuang lifted her head and forced a smile. “I’ll take care of the home.”
Dinner was slightly tense. Mother Zhou knew about He Yanzhi’s mission and kept piling food onto his plate, her eyes red. “Make sure you eat enough out there, stay safe…”
He Yanzhi ate as usual, quick and steady, only occasionally glancing at Chen Shuang with deep eyes.
That night, Chen Shuang tossed and turned in bed. Even though He Yanzhi said it wasn’t dangerous, in this era, which military mission was ever completely safe? Anxiety kept rising, and she finally sat up.
He Yanzhi wasn’t asleep either, turning to look at her. “Can’t sleep?”
“Yes,” Chen Shuang whispered. “A little… worried.”
He pulled her into his arms. “It’s really fine. Just helping a brother unit with a joint exercise. The time is a bit long, and the location is far.”
Hearing that, Chen Shuang felt slightly relieved but couldn’t help asking, “Can you write letters?”
“Should be able to, but not always promptly.” He Yanzhi stroked her hair. “I’ll try.”
Chen Shuang leaned on him, listening to his steady heartbeat, gradually calming. Yes, he was a soldier; missions were normal. She couldn’t hold him back.
The next day, He Yanzhi went to the regiment as usual to handle handovers. Chen Shuang decided to make a trip to the county town—she wanted to keep herself busy during his mission, so she wouldn’t dwell on anxious thoughts at home.
At the Xinhua Bookstore in the county town, Chen Shuang had been a few times. This time, she went straight to the counter and politely asked the old clerk, “Comrade, may I ask… do you need someone to translate foreign-language materials?”
The clerk pushed up his reading glasses and sized her up. “Translate? You are…”
“I studied English.” Chen Shuang handed over the military family certificate that He Yanzhi had helped her obtain. “If there are books that need translation, I can do it at home.”
The clerk looked at the certificate, then at her, hesitating. “Wait a moment.”
He turned into the back room and returned after a while with a middle-aged man wearing glasses and looking scholarly.
“This is Editor Liu from the provincial publishing house,” the clerk introduced. “Editor Liu, this is the comrade I mentioned who knows a foreign language.”
Editor Liu adjusted his glasses and looked at Chen Shuang. “Comrade, you studied English?”
“Yes, I learned from a teacher before,” Chen Shuang nodded.
“We currently have a set of books that need translation into Chinese,” Editor Liu said. “The publishing house lacks manpower and wants outside help. The requirements are strict—accuracy and natural Chinese expression. Can you try?”
Chen Shuang’s heart leapt. “I can try. Do you have a sample?”
Editor Liu took a thin book from his bag and handed her a few pages of manuscript. “These are the first ten pages of the first volume. Try translating them. I’ll come back in a week. If the quality is acceptable, we’ll assign the whole set to you.”
Chen Shuang took the book and manuscript, quickly scanning it. It was about agricultural mechanization technology—professional but not obscure, right in her area of expertise.
“All right, I’ll have it ready in a week.” She thought and added, “Editor Liu, if my trial translation passes and I take on the work officially, can the publishing house issue a certificate or some kind of official work document? That way, I’ll have formal identification while working.”
Editor Liu thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. If you officially become our contracted translator, we can issue a certificate stamped with the publishing house seal, stating your assignment and cooperation period. It won’t be a long-term work ID, but it’s valid as temporary proof of your work identity.”
“That’s wonderful, thank you, Editor Liu!” Chen Shuang felt reassured.
Returning home with the book and manuscript, Chen Shuang immediately began working. She skimmed the content, then started translating paragraph by paragraph.
When He Yanzhi returned that evening, Chen Shuang was still working under the lamp. He walked behind her, seeing her neat handwriting, surprised. “What’s this?”
Chen Shuang realized he was back, rubbing her tired eyes. “A publishing translation job—agriculture technology book. Translating the first ten pages as a trial.”
He Yanzhi looked over the manuscript and nodded. “Nice handwriting. Content?”
“Still translating,” Chen Shuang said. “You leave tomorrow, and I…”
“It’s fine, you focus.” He sat beside her. “I’ll help check.”
They worked together late into the night. Although He Yanzhi didn’t know English, he was familiar with agricultural machinery—the army had farms, and he had experience with the equipment. Chen Shuang translated; he helped proof technical terms. Their cooperation was seamless.
“This ‘traction combine harvester’ should be translated like this…” He pointed at the manuscript.
Chen Shuang listened and noted, feeling warmth in her heart. This man, leaving tomorrow, still stayed with her tonight.
The next morning, before dawn, He Yanzhi got up. Chen Shuang followed, helping him pack.
Uniform, civilian clothes, toiletries, notebook… she checked everything, folded neatly into his backpack. He Yanzhi watched silently, his gaze following her.
“This is enough,” he said, holding her hand. “Don’t busy yourself.”
Chen Shuang looked at him, eyes glistening. “Out there… be careful.”
“I know.” He lowered his head, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You too, take care. Don’t overwork on the translation, rest well.”
“Mm.”
The sound of a car engine came from the yard—Xiao Zhang had come to pick him up. He Yanzhi slung the backpack over his shoulder, gave Chen Shuang a deep look, and strode toward the gate.
Chen Shuang followed to the door, watching his upright figure disappear into the morning mist, her heart empty.
Mother Zhou patted her shoulder. “Shuang, go back inside. Yanzhi is a soldier; missions are routine. Let’s guard the home and wait for his return.”
Chen Shuang nodded and went back. The translation manuscript from yesterday lay on the table. She sat down, picked up her pen, and forced herself to focus.
Work was the best therapy. Over the next few days, Chen Shuang devoted all her energy to translating. Daytime translation, nighttime proofreading, eight to nine hours each day. Mother Zhou worried for her, making food in various ways, but Chen Shuang often forgot the time.
A week later, Editor Liu came to the bookstore as promised. Chen Shuang handed over the ten pages of translated manuscript, her heart uneasy.
Editor Liu examined it carefully, nodding occasionally, then looked up, eyes gleaming behind glasses. “Comrade Chen Shuang, excellent translation! Technical terms are accurate, language fluent, fully meeting publishing standards!”
Chen Shuang exhaled. “So… the entire set?”
“All yours!” Editor Liu pulled out a thick stack of books. “Eight volumes, about 150 pages each. Can you finish in three months?”
Chen Shuang quickly calculated. “Should be fine.”
“Payment is per page, forty cents each,” Editor Liu said. “Manuscript fees settled monthly, sent directly to your home. Here’s a certificate from the publishing house with the official seal, stating you are our contracted translator for this series, valid for three months.” He handed over the document with the red seal.
Eight volumes, 150 pages each, 1,200 pages in total—four hundred eighty yuan—the equivalent of a year’s wages for an ordinary worker. And the certificate gave Chen Shuang an official work identity. Her heart leapt as she carefully read the document with her name, task, cooperation period, and the provincial publishing house seal.
“Thank you, Editor Liu. I will complete it on time and with high quality,” Chen Shuang said solemnly.
Returning home with the heavy books and valuable certificate, Chen Shuang felt motivated. This wasn’t just work—it was a chance to prove her value. The certificate gave her a formal social identity during this period.
She stacked the books on the table, planned a detailed translation schedule: fifteen pages a day, finishing in three months. With He Yanzhi away during the day, she had plenty of time. The certificate was carefully kept in her drawer, giving her peace of mind.
Days passed with the pen flowing. Chen Shuang’s life became structured and fulfilling: morning housework and breakfast, four hours translating in the morning, rest at noon, four more hours in the afternoon.
Occasionally, Sister Wang would drop by, seeing her bent over her work, both admiring and worrying. “Shuang, don’t overdo it, take care of your health.”
“I’m fine, Sister Wang.” Chen Shuang smiled, showing the certificate. “Look, this is from the provincial publishing house. I’m their contracted translator now. Having work keeps me busy, and I feel secure.”
Sister Wang took the certificate. Though she couldn’t read all the words, she recognized the red seal and clicked her tongue in praise. “Shuang, you really have talent! This is official proof! Work hard!”
Indeed, being busy left little time for idle thoughts. Yet late at night, she still stared at He Yanzhi’s empty side of the bed, worrying about his safety, whether he was eating and sleeping well.
A month later, Chen Shuang received her first payment—sixty-five yuan—along with a letter from the publishing house confirming her progress and looking forward to future translations. Holding the money and letter, her feelings were mixed. This was her first earnings through knowledge and labor—immensely meaningful. The certificate made her feel she was truly doing something valuable and socially recognized.
She carefully stored the money, planning to surprise He Yanzhi when he returned. The certificate was kept with other important documents at home.
The translation work proceeded smoothly. Chen Shuang gradually found her rhythm and increased her speed. Sometimes she wrestled with difficult passages, cross-referencing materials until finding the most appropriate expression. She knew this work was not just for the fee but a test of her abilities. This certified experience itself was invaluable.
That afternoon, while translating a chapter on collective farm management, a postal worker’s voice came from the yard. “Comrade Chen Shuang! Mail for you!”
Her heart skipped a beat. She dropped her pen and ran outside. The postman handed her a kraft-paper envelope, the handwriting strong and familiar—it was He Yanzhi’s.
She nearly trembled as she opened it. Inside was a single sheet, short but reassuring:
“Shuangshuang, all is well, do not worry. Mission going smoothly, needs over a month. Take care of yourself, eat on time, don’t overwork. Thinking of you. Yanzhi.”
Chen Shuang read it repeatedly, eyes welling up. She folded it carefully, pressing it to her chest, taking a deep breath.
He was safe—that was enough.
Back at her desk, Chen Shuang picked up her pen, feeling empowered. She would work well, take care of herself, and wait for his safe return. The certificate in her drawer silently witnessed her effort and growth.
Outside, the grapes were reddening, and the sea breeze continued to blow through the courtyard daily. Chen Shuang knew the separation was temporary, and her days with He Yanzhi were long ahead. She was steadily carving her place in this new time and space, creating her own value.
Far away, on a training ground a thousand miles away, He Yanzhi had just finished a day’s exercise. He walked outside the barracks, looking toward the island, and took out Chen Shuang’s photo from his inner pocket—the only photo of her on the island, standing under the grape trellis, smiling gently.
“Wait for me, Shuangshuang,” he whispered, carefully putting the photo back.
Moonlight illuminated the training ground, highlighting his resolute profile.