With curiosity, the car stopped in front of a three-story villa in the West District.
“Your grandfather lives here?” Shen Qingjun asked.
Zou Zhanyang nodded, got out, walked around the car, and opened the door on the other side. “Get out. Grandpa’s waiting inside.”
Shen Qingjun stepped out, her mood complicated as she looked at the villa: the neatly maintained flower beds, the jeep behind them, and Zou Zhanyang’s two stripes and three stars on his shoulders…
Two stripes and three stars? Could a small company commander really have that many?
It suddenly dawned on Shen Qingjun that she had overlooked something important all along…
At that moment, the villa door opened, and a middle-aged man in uniform came out, smiling at Zou Zhanyang. “Zhanyang, you’re back! You’ve grown up and matured these past few years. At only twenty-seven, a regimental commander—far more capable than my rascal kid. When the old chief heard about it, he was so proud, showing off every day…”
Zou Zhanyang: “Uncle Lu, Siyuan is now the mayor’s secretary—not any worse than me.”
Lu Weihua laughed heartily, his gaze falling on Shen Qingjun. “And this young lady is…”
Zou Zhanyang smirked, proudly declaring, “My wife.”
Lu Weihua’s eyes went wide. What? When did his mixed-up kid already have a wife?
His head was spinning with questions, but Zou Zhanyang didn’t give him the chance. “Uncle Lu, I need to go see Grandpa. No chatting—take care.”
“This… sigh…”
Lu Weihua, realizing he had to tell his own wife, suddenly vanished like a blur.
After seeing Uncle Lu off, Zou Zhanyang exhaled. He was great in every way—just way too talkative. No wonder Siyuan inherited that trait.
Pulling himself together, Zou Zhanyang looked at Shen Qingjun, who was staring blankly. “Qingjun, that was Uncle Lu. He’s watched me grow up; he’s a good man. You’ll see if you get to know him more.”
Shen Qingjun’s mind was spinning with Lu Weihua’s words—chief? regimental commander?
How many chiefs could there be in the compound, and by coincidence, with the surname Zou?
Her eyes looked at Zou Zhanyang with complexity. “Your grandfather is Chief Zou?”
Zou Zhanyang avoided her gaze, nodding once.
“And you?”
“Regimental commander,” he said softly, as if the words were hard to speak.
Shen Qingjun took a deep breath. “So, the person who went on a blind date with me that day… was it you?”
Zou Zhanyang looked guilty but stubborn. “It wasn’t me, but you kissed, and we already got the marriage certificate. Are you really not going to take responsibility?”
He looked pitiful, as if Shen Qingjun were a heartless woman abandoning him.
Fine. No need to explain—she realized she had mistaken someone. At first, she thought he had an accent—Zou, not Zhou. Turns out it was Zhou, not Zou!
Shen Qingjun held her head. Ouch. Headache.
“Wife, do you regret marrying me?” Zou Zhanyang tugged at her clothes, looking at her pitifully like a scared little wolf.
Shen Qingjun: …How could she regret it?
Zou Zhanyang hugged her waist, rubbing his head against her. “Even if you did regret it, it’s useless. We have the certificate; legally, we’re married. You’re stuck with me for life.”
Shen Qingjun felt ticklish. “You’re a dog… and we’re stuck together?”
He didn’t care. “A dog, fine. But only for my wife.”
Shen Qingjun thought he was seriously ill. She pushed him off, annoyed. “It’s so hot—are we ever going inside?”
Seeing she wasn’t angry, Zou Zhanyang let go, taking her hand to lead her inside.
Once inside, Shen Qingjun saw an elderly man in a black Zhongshan suit sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper. His hair was white, but he looked vigorous, with an air of authority that spoke of long years in high office.
Hearing them, Zou Liye looked up. He was about to scold his grandson, but then he saw Shen Qingjun behind him.
His expression softened, changing from stern to warm. He gestured her over. “Qunjun, come sit. Standing is tiring.”
He glanced at Zou Zhanyang. “You don’t know how to take care of your wife. Go to the kitchen and bring some water, and get some fruits and snacks from the cabinet.”
Seeing Shen Qingjun’s chapped lips, Zou Zhanyang’s heart ached. Without a word, he got up to fetch the water.
“It’s so hot outside. Wasn’t it tiring to come?” Zou Liye’s voice trembled slightly, watching the beautiful young lady. No wonder his mischievous grandson fell for her.
“I’m fine,” Shen Qingjun said, covering her mouth and smiling. “Grandpa, I brought two bottles of wine. Zou Zhanyang said you like a drink now and then. See if you like it.”
She handed the bottles to Zou Liye.
“Good wine!”
Zou Liye’s eyes lit up, his wrinkles deepening in a smile. Finally, a thoughtful girl—unlike his grandson, who barely remembered to bring anything.
“I’m glad you like it,” Shen Qingjun said obediently.
Zou Zhanyang returned with the water, holding the cup to her lips. “Drink some water. Your mouth looks dry.”
A little embarrassed in front of the elder, Shen Qingjun said, “Pour one for Grandpa too.”
Zou Liye smiled. The couple seemed so happy—he could relax. He was about to say he didn’t need water, but heard his unlucky grandson say softly, with gentle concern:
“Grandpa, you can drink yourself. I’ll give it to her—you drink first. It’s warm, I checked, not hot.”
“Alright, I’ll pour it myself.”
“No worries, Grandpa won’t mind. I’ll give it to you.”
“…”
Zou Zhanyang showed Shen Qingjun around. The first floor had the dining room, living room, kitchen, and housekeeper Zhang’s room. The second floor was Zou Liye’s, and Zou Zhanyang’s room was on the third floor.
“This is my room. Our marital room is in the West building, still being renovated. Once done, all three West floors will be ours.”
“All three floors? Will your uncles and aunts be okay with that?” Shen Qingjun asked curiously.
“My grandfather only has my dad as a son. And he doesn’t like my dad. If we don’t live here, who will?” Zou Zhanyang said, heading upstairs and opening the door.
The room was decorated in a traditional Chinese style, wooden floors, wooden furniture, clean and tidy, everything in order. Seeing the neatly folded bedspread, Shen Qingjun poked Zou Zhanyang’s waist.
“You’re not going to make me fold the bed like this too, are you?”
He grabbed her small hand, holding and kneading it. So soft and small… he wanted to bite it.
“No need—you move it yourself.”
“I’ll remember. If you ever get mad at me, I’ll make you sleep in the hallway.”
The bed creaked slightly—a wooden frame worn with years. Shen Qingjun thought to herself that the marital bed must be sturdy.
She felt something heavy in her hands. Looking down, she nearly gasped—piles of cash, tied with leather bands, alongside several bankbooks. The smallest stacks were 30,000 yuan, the largest tens of thousands—altogether at least 100,000 yuan.
And that didn’t even include the property deeds and a box full of vouchers.
“Wife, this is all I own. I’m giving it to you. From now on, I belong to you.”
No wonder marriage was considered a fast way to wealth. Shen Qingjun felt like she’d been hit by a fortune—her head dizzy, her heart pounding, and Zou Zhanyang looked even more charming through her eyes.
She cupped his face with both hands. “You’re so cute,” she said, like a little god of wealth.
Zou Zhanyang’s face flushed. “Can I get a reward—a kiss?”
She nodded, pecking his cheek quickly. Before she could pull away, her body lifted—she was trapped in his embrace.
“Ah!” Shen Qingjun cried, dropping some of the money.
Soon, she had no time to worry about that. Sitting on his lap, head tilted back, she was forced to endure his soft yet passionate kiss. She started enjoying it.
When Zhang knocked, Shen Qingjun pushed Zou Zhanyang away, blushing. “You kissed my lips all swollen! It’ll be so awkward if Grandpa sees.”
“Wife, I’m sorry. I’ll be gentle next time.”
“No next time. No kissing before the wedding.”
“Wife, I can’t help it… you have to pity me…”
“Go away…”