The next morning, He Yanzhi arrived at the guesthouse on time. He was still in his crisp military uniform, but there was a subtle ease about him that hadn’t been there yesterday.
“First, we’ll go into town to handle the paperwork,” he told Chen Shuang, then glanced at Madam Zhou. “Comrade Zhou Xiulan, Xiao Zhang will stay to help you pack. After that, we’ll move everything straight to the family quarters.”
Everything was arranged efficiently. Chen Shuang and Madam Zhou both nodded in agreement.
On the way to town, the jeep bumped along the dirt road. He Yanzhi held the steering wheel steadily with one hand, eyes fixed on the road ahead, and suddenly said, “I called home last night.”
Chen Shuang turned to look at him. In this era, long-distance calls were no small matter.
“Mm.” He Yanzhi’s profile remained sharp, yet his voice carried a rare gentleness. “I told them about us. They were… happy. My parents said to treat you well and, if the opportunity arises, take you home to visit.”
His words were simple, but Chen Shuang could feel the genuine joy and acceptance behind them. Her anxious heart eased a little. Family support—especially from the groom’s side—meant a great deal for a bride with her background in this era.
“Please thank them for me,” Chen Shuang said sincerely. “If there’s a chance in the future, I will definitely go visit.”
He Yanzhi acknowledged her with a nod, saying no more, but the atmosphere in the car felt noticeably warmer.
The marriage registration office in town remained simple yet efficient. The clerk had obviously been informed beforehand; upon seeing them, she greeted them with a bright smile and began the paperwork. Forms were filled out, signatures signed, fingerprints stamped… the process moved quickly.
When the two brand-new marriage certificates stamped with bright red double happiness and Chairman Mao quotes were handed over, Chen Shuang looked at the names “He Yanzhi” and “Chen Shuang” side by side, the vivid red seal, and felt a deep sense of resolution. No matter what the future held, from this moment, she had a legal identity in this unfamiliar era and a partner to stand beside her.
“Congratulations, Commander He and Comrade Chen Shuang! May you march through the revolution hand in hand, growing old together!” the clerk said warmly, handing over a small framed portrait of Chairman Mao tied with red silk.
“Thank you, Comrade,” He Yanzhi said solemnly, taking it carefully. He then handed one of the marriage certificates to Chen Shuang. “Keep this safe.”
Chen Shuang took it and carefully placed it into her cloth bag. This thin piece of paper represented one of the foundations of her future security.
“Now, let’s go to the photo studio,” He Yanzhi said.
The town’s photo studio was small. When the old photographer learned they were there for a wedding portrait and that he was in the military, he became especially enthusiastic. The backdrop was a simple Tiananmen scene. They sat side by side on a long bench.
“Closer, closer… Yes, Commander, relax your shoulders. Comrade, lean your head slightly inward and smile naturally… Good, right here!”
The flash went off, the white light glaring.
While waiting for the photos to develop, He Yanzhi also took Chen Shuang to the supply store to pick up household necessities: two thick cotton quilts (the army only issued thin ones), pillows, two bolts of plain cotton cloth (for covers and curtains), sturdy vegetable baskets, clotheslines, washboards, and a hoe and shovel.
He Yanzhi shopped efficiently—choosing, asking prices, paying, collecting—rarely bargaining, but everything he picked was practical and durable. Chen Shuang followed quietly, mentally noting his preferences and standards.
The photos developed. In the black-and-white images, they sat side by side; He Yanzhi’s expression serious, eyes determined; Chen Shuang calm, gaze clear, lips curved in a subtle, just-right smile. The photo wasn’t intimate, yet it conveyed a sense of harmony and solemnity.
“Well done,” the photographer said with a smile as he handed them over.
He Yanzhi took them, examining them carefully. A faint trace of satisfaction appeared in his eyes, and then he carefully placed the photos into his marriage certificate.
By the time they returned to the family quarters, it was nearly noon. Madam Zhou and Xiao Zhang had already moved everything from the guesthouse and were tidying the yard. Seeing them return, Madam Zhou approached with a beaming smile. “All done?”
“All done,” Chen Shuang nodded, showing her the marriage certificate. Seeing the bright red document, Madam Zhou’s eyes moistened slightly. “Good, good, this is just right!”
He Yanzhi helped carry the newly bought items inside and rolled up his sleeves to work with the neighboring soldiers who had come to help. Together, they moved heavy containers of rice and flour to the kitchen. He didn’t speak much, but he worked diligently, quickly finishing the physically demanding tasks.
At noon, the mess hall delivered lunch, with an extra bowl of braised pork and a plate of scrambled eggs, packed full in boxes, as a special gesture from the political commissar for the commander. In this resource-scarce island base, this simple “extra dish” was the most tangible celebration.
They ate in the new home’s main room: a square table with four long benches. He Yanzhi, Chen Shuang, and Madam Zhou sat together. The meal was simple but steaming hot.
He Yanzhi served Chen Shuang and Madam Zhou each a piece of braised pork, eating mostly the eggs and vegetables himself. He ate quickly but with care.
After the meal, He Yanzhi put down his utensils and said to Chen Shuang, “I have matters to attend to this afternoon. Tonight… I’ll come back for dinner.” His eyes met hers with a quiet assurance.
“Okay,” Chen Shuang replied.
He Yanzhi then looked at Madam Zhou. “Comrade Zhou Xiulan, from now on, please help Chen Shuang with household matters.”
Madam Zhou waved her hand hurriedly. “Not a problem, not a problem. You can count on me, Commander He!”
He Yanzhi nodded, said nothing more, and left. His figure tall, his steps steady, he quickly disappeared beyond the yard gate.
The yard fell quiet, leaving only the rustling of leaves in the wind. Chen Shuang stood at the doorway, looking at the simple wooden gate, feeling the tangible reality of her new life.
The house was modest, the furniture simple, the future unknown. Yet at this moment, sunlight filled the courtyard, the kitchen smelled of food, Madam Zhou hummed softly while tidying up, and in her hand, she held the marriage certificate—a symbol of a new beginning.
“Xiao Shuang, we really have a home now!” Madam Zhou came over, eyes shining. “Look at this yard, look at this bright house! We’ll organize everything well; life will surely be good!”
“Yes, it will be good,” Chen Shuang said, gripping Madam Zhou’s rough but warm hand, then turned to gaze at the vibrant jackfruit tree in the courtyard.