After the clamor of the verdict faded, the Chen Mansion returned to a surface calm. But Chen Shuang knew that beneath this calm, undercurrents still flowed. Though her uncle’s family had been punished, the scandal was enough to make her and the mansion the focus of curiosity, fear, and greed. Meanwhile, the tide of the times was growing harsher by the day.
She had to leave as soon as possible.
Back at the mansion, she went straight to the study. From her father’s unsent letters, she found the envelope from He Yanzhi’s last letter, bearing the unit designation and mailbox code: Southeast Military Region, Qiongzhou Garrison, XX Mailbox.
She didn’t write a letter—there wasn’t time. Instead, she chose a telegram—faster, more direct, and fitting a soldier’s style.
After careful wording, she sent a single line:
“Shanghai matters resolved. Request fulfillment of engagement and permission to accompany the army. —Chen Shuang.”
Simple, clear, and to the point.
After sending the urgent telegram, she entered a tense wait. But she didn’t remain idle. Whether He Yanzhi agreed or not, she had to prepare to leave. A remote island meant scarce supplies—she needed to stock up.
Using the ration coupons and cash her parents left—her only “legitimate” assets—she began quietly purchasing goods. She avoided large stores and instead bought discreetly from small cooperatives, supply shops, and local farmers through trusted connections.
Her priorities were clear: practical, durable, and inconspicuous items.
Food came first—rice, flour, cornmeal, dried sweet potatoes—bought in small batches. She stocked cotton, cloth, sewing supplies, soap, matches, candles, kerosene, salt, sugar, and condiments.
She also obtained basic medicines—antibiotics, anti-diarrheal pills, cold remedies, bandages, alcohol. On a remote island, these could save lives.
Even tools and knowledge weren’t neglected—she acquired carpentry and blacksmith tools, along with books like Barefoot Doctor’s Manual, herbal guides, agricultural basics, and mechanical repair.
All of it was gradually stored inside the spiritual spring space. Around the small stone well, supplies accumulated neatly, filling her with growing reassurance.
Meanwhile, she handled the mansion. Selling it was too risky. Instead, through Director Liu Zhengqing, she formally donated it to the state for public use.
This protected the property while allowing her to leave legitimately under the pretext of “joining relatives.”
After storing the last of her personal belongings—photos, mementos, tools—she finally received He Yanzhi’s reply.
The telegram was brief:
“Request approved. Introduction letter sent to Shanghai XX Guesthouse. Report there. Travel arranged south in five days. I will receive you at Qiongzhou Port. —He Yanzhi.”
It was done.
Relief washed over her. His decisiveness gave her a sense of trust in this unseen fiancé.
She quickly completed her resignation at the neighborhood office. Clerk Wang, sympathetic to her situation, expedited the process and even gave her extra ration coupons.
“Live well over there,” he advised quietly.
Chen Shuang thanked him sincerely.
Back at the mansion, she and Madam Zhou packed lightly—just two rattan suitcases with clothes, bedding, and essentials. Everything important was already secured in the space.
On her last night, she walked through the mansion alone. Moonlight illuminated the empty rooms.
This place had been her starting point, her battlefield, and a grave for the original owner’s memories.
Now, she was leaving—perhaps forever.
No regret, only relief and faint anticipation.
“Madam Zhou, are we ready?”
“Yes, Miss.”
Chen Shuang nodded, gave the mansion one last glance, then locked the door. The key was handed over to the authorities.
The mansion—and the remaining decoy valuables—would sleep for now.
Under the moonlight, mistress and servant walked toward the guesthouse, where other military families awaited their journey south—nervous yet hopeful for the unknown ahead.