The afternoon sunlight was just right, streaming through the newly hung plain cotton curtains and casting dappled patterns on the earthen floor. Chen Shuang and Zhou Ma began formally organizing their new home.
The first task was making the beds. Chen Shuang took out two sets of soft, gently used cotton sheets and duvet covers from her space, replacing the coarse straw mats and thin military-green quilts issued by the army. She also retrieved two plump buckwheat pillows, far more comfortable than the stiff ones bought from the supply store. Zhou Ma touched the thick, soft bedding and laughed with delight: “This material is so soft! The pillows too, my neck won’t ache sleeping on them.”
The master bedroom faced south, letting in plenty of light. Chen Shuang measured the windows and cut the newly bought plain fabric into curtains, while Zhou Ma sewed them swiftly. In less than half a day, the curtains were ready. Once hung, the room immediately felt warmer and more private. They did the same for the small bedroom.
In the main room, the low cabinet held the framed Mao portrait wrapped in red silk, with a thermos and two cleaned enamel basins beside it. The square table was wiped clean, and the four benches were neatly arranged. Though still simple, the home was beginning to take shape.
The kitchen was Zhou Ma’s territory. She carefully seasoned the new iron wok with pork fat until it gleamed. In the cupboard, coarse porcelain bowls and plates, bamboo chopsticks, aluminum lunch boxes, and enamel basins were all arranged in order. Containers of oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, and sugar were neatly lined on the wooden rack by the stove. In the rice and flour bins, Chen Shuang secretly mixed in some premium rice and flour from her space with the rationed coarse grains, subtly improving their meals.
There was plenty to do in the yard as well. The hoe and spade left by He Yanzhi came in handy. Chen Shuang planned a small vegetable patch in the sunniest part of the yard on the east side. Though Zhou Ma was older, her hands were nimble with farm work. One loosened the soil while the other removed stones and weeds. In half a day, they had prepared a roughly ten-square-meter patch of level ground.
“Let’s plant some bok choy, green onions, and garlic sprouts first—they grow fast,” Chen Shuang planned. “In a couple of days, we can check the service office for seeds, or trade with Neighbor Wang.”
By the well, Chen Shuang built a simple washing station with broken bricks and wooden planks for Zhou Ma to wash clothes. The clothesline was strung under the jackfruit tree, providing both shade and ventilation.
While they were busy, a cheerful female voice called from the yard: “Is anyone home at Commander He’s place?”
Chen Shuang looked up. “Oh! You’re—”
“I’m Commissioner Zhao’s partner next door. You can call me Sister Wang,” the woman said, holding a little girl by the hand. “This is my daughter, Niuniu. Niuniu, say hello to your auntie.” The little girl’s soft voice rang out: “Hello, auntie,” while her other hand held a small bamboo basket.
“Sister Wang, Niuniu, come in!” Chen Shuang hurried to greet them.
Sister Wang entered, laughing, and looked around at the well-kept yard. “Wow, so neat! Only half a day, and it looks great!” She handed over the basket. “Some homemade pickles and a few eggs for the child—don’t mind me!”
“Oh, you’re too kind, Sister Wang!” Chen Shuang hurriedly declined.
“We’re neighbors; no need for formalities! If you ever need anything, just ask!” Sister Wang pressed the basket into Zhou Ma’s hands and lowered her voice to speak to Chen Shuang. “Commander He is well-known in our regiment as very capable. He’s a bit cold in temperament and doesn’t say soft words, so bear with him. But he’s reliable and cares for you—he even told old Zhao to look out for you!”
Chen Shuang smiled and replied, “Thank you for the advice, Sister Wang. Commander He… is quite good.”
Seeing her calm expression and clear eyes, Sister Wang’s favor increased. After some small talk, she took Niuniu’s hand and left.
After sending Sister Wang off, Chen Shuang looked at the basket of glossy eggs and fresh pickles, feeling warmth in her heart. The social life in this military compound was simpler and kinder than she had imagined.
The afternoon passed quickly with busy work. By evening, the sunset had dyed the sky a brilliant gold and red.
Estimating He Yanzhi’s return, Chen Shuang began preparing dinner. The kitchen had leftover rice and some dishes from the noon mess, but she wanted to try something new. She had Zhou Ma cook a small pot of rice porridge in the new pot, while she soaked a handful of dried wood ear mushrooms and shiitake in warm water. She also retrieved a small piece of preserved meat and a few eggs from her space.
The preserved meat was sliced thin and stir-fried with the rehydrated mushrooms with a touch of soy sauce and salt—an excellent side dish. The eggs were beaten with chopped green onions and fried golden in lard. She also set aside a small plate of pickles from Sister Wang.
Just as the dishes were ready, the sound of a jeep came from outside.
He Yanzhi entered, still carrying the dust of training. Seeing the lit main room and the steaming food, he paused for a moment almost imperceptibly.
“Back? Wash up and eat,” Chen Shuang called naturally from the kitchen.
“Mm,” He Yanzhi replied, fetching water from the well to wash his hands and face carefully before entering the room.
The three sat around the square table again. Dinner was much more abundant than at noon: the stir-fried preserved meat with mushrooms was aromatic, the fried eggs golden and enticing, the porridge thick, and the pickles crisp.
He Yanzhi’s gaze lingered briefly on the preserved meat and mushrooms. Chen Shuang explained, “This meat and dried vegetables came from Shanghai. I’ve been saving them. Today… we’ll celebrate a little.”
He Yanzhi nodded silently, picked up his chopsticks, and first served Chen Shuang and Zhou Ma each a portion of the meat before eating himself. He ate quickly as always, but it was clear he enjoyed the dishes, especially the preserved meat with mushrooms, taking several extra servings.
The table was quiet, only the soft clinking of dishes and Zhou Ma’s occasional low voice arranging the food. The quiet was comfortable, a tacit harmony.
After the meal, He Yanzhi stood to clear the dishes, but Zhou Ma firmly stopped him: “Commander, rest! I’ll do this!”
He Yanzhi didn’t insist and turned to Chen Shuang: “The yard looks well-kept.”
“With the seeds Sister Wang brought, we can plant them tomorrow,” Chen Shuang said. “We still need a chicken coop—I want a few chickens.”
“Easy. I’ll have the logistics carpenter make one,” He Yanzhi said. “You can trade for chicks in nearby villages, or wait for the next market.”
“Alright,” Chen Shuang nodded.
They stood at the doorway, watching the darkening yard and the hazy outlines of the trees. The evening wind rustled the jackfruit leaves and carried the distant whisper of the sea.
“Are you… getting used to it here?” He Yanzhi asked suddenly.
“Yes,” Chen Shuang answered firmly. “Much better than I imagined.”
He Yanzhi glanced at her. In the dim kerosene lamp light, her profile was gentle, her eyes calm. He gave a small “hm” and said no more.
After a while, he said, “I usually stay in the dorm, so my return time is uncertain. You and Zhou Ma handle household matters. If anything’s needed, have Xiao Zhang tell me.”
“I understand,” Chen Shuang replied. Over time, a tacit understanding seemed to be forming between them.
He Yanzhi lingered a moment, seeming to want to say something, but finally said, “It’s late, rest now. I’ll go back to the dorm.”
“Take care on the way,” Chen Shuang called him to the gate.
He nodded and walked briskly into the night. The sound of the jeep faded.
Chen Shuang closed the gate and returned inside. Zhou Ma had already washed the dishes and was heating water.
“Xiao Shuang, I think Commander He is a solid man,” Zhou Ma said softly. “Not much talk, but careful and takes care of home.”
“Mm,” Chen Shuang replied gently, watching the flickering flame of the kerosene lamp.
That wedding night had no red candles, no noisy banquet—just a lone lamp in the humble room and the unfamiliar southern stars outside. Yet Chen Shuang’s heart was unusually calm. This was a clear beginning, a home she could gradually build with her own hands.
And the silent yet reliable man was slowly becoming a pillar of this home—a presence, though not often there, that was real and steady.
The future was long, and each day had to be lived. Chen Shuang blew out the lamp and lay down in the dark. Outside, the insects still chirped, but no longer made her feel alone.