The Su Family Courtyard was a two-section siheyuan located beneath the imperial city walls, home to people of status and influence.
Inside the eastern wing room, a young woman in a fashionable dress sat at her desk, holding a freshly written letter in her hand. A smug, malicious smile hung on her face.
She was Su Huaijin’s stepsister, Su Wan.
The girl who had always lived in the shadow of Su Huaijin’s brilliance.
“Mom, do you think that idiot is crying her eyes out in the Northwest right now?”
Su Wan turned toward the middle-aged woman beside her, who was leisurely painting her nails—Wang Fang, Su Huaijin’s stepmother.
Wang Fang blew gently on her nails and sneered.
“Of course she is. What kind of place is the Northwest? The sandstorms are strong enough to peel the skin off your face. All they have there are coarse steamed buns and pickled vegetables. With Su Huaijin’s delicate temperament, she’s probably already fallen apart.”
“She deserves it!” A flash of satisfaction crossed Su Wan’s eyes. “Who told her to outshine me all the time? She was the talented beauty from Peking University, and what was I? Just the ‘baggage child’ Mom brought into the family! But now? She married some poor soldier whose whole family is dead. She’ll never rise again for the rest of her life!”
“Wan’er, did you finish the letter?” Wang Fang asked.
“Finished.”
Su Wan waved the envelope in her hand, her smile venomous.
“I kindly informed her that Brother Xu from our compound is getting engaged to me next month. Oh, and I also made sure to mention that Grandpa’s health has been declining lately, so she should ‘absolutely not come back’ and cause trouble. She should just stay there peacefully and be the regiment commander’s wife.”
In reality, Old Master Su was perfectly healthy. He could still practice two full sets of tai chi every day.
But Su Wan knew exactly where Su Huaijin’s weakness lay.
The person Su Huaijin cared about most was her grandfather. If she believed the family had abandoned her, believed she could never return, then trapped in that barren wasteland, she would surely fall into despair.
“And this too.”
Su Wan pulled out a newspaper clipping from the drawer. It was an article published a few days earlier about “A Massive Sandstorm Cutting Off Communications in a Northwestern Military Region.”
“Put this in too. Scare her to death.”
She stuffed the clipping into the envelope, sealed it, and affixed the stamp.
“Su Huaijin, just rot away in that godforsaken place. The prosperity of the capital has nothing to do with you anymore.”
What she didn’t know was—
At this very moment, Su Huaijin not only hadn’t withered in the mud, but was blooming like a desert rose, brighter and more beautiful than anyone else on that barren land.
…
Back at the Northwestern military base.
Night had fallen.
The family compound gradually quieted down, interrupted only occasionally by the barking of dogs.
Su Huaijin sat by the table under the glow of a kerosene lamp, sewing something from scraps of leftover fabric.
She was making a gun holster.
The last time she saw Cheng Beitang’s holster, the leather had already been worn through, and it made her heart ache. She planned to make him a new one using thick canvas, even embroidering a tiny “Peace” character onto it.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Heavy footsteps echoed from the distance.
Slow. Heavy. As though every step consumed all of the person’s strength.
Su Huaijin’s ears twitched.
She was sensitive to sound. Those footsteps… they were military boots striking the earth.
Her heartbeat quickened instantly.
Was it him?
She put down her sewing and hurried toward the door.
Before she could open it—
Creak—
The door was pushed open from the outside.
A thick smell of blood mixed with gunpowder swept in with the night wind.
Under the dim yellow light, Su Huaijin looked up.
A tall shadow stood at the doorway.
Cheng Beitang.
He was back.
But the sight of him made her heart clench painfully.
He looked far worse than when he had left three days ago.
His camouflage uniform was torn to shreds, riddled with cuts that exposed the bandages wrapped around his muscles. His face was covered in soot and dried blood, and only his eyes remained terrifyingly bright in the darkness.
His left hand clutched his right arm, and blood seeped through the gaps between his fingers. He was clearly injured.
His entire body radiated the killing aura and exhaustion of someone who had just crawled out of hell itself.
Cheng Beitang stood at the doorway without stepping inside immediately.
He stared at the room in front of him, stunned.
Was this… his home?
Where had that dark, freezing, doghouse-like room gone—the one that had contained nothing but a bed and a table?
In its place was a warm little home bathed in golden light, with freshly whitewashed walls, floral curtains hanging by the window, and lace tablecloths spread across the furniture.
The air carried a faint fragrance—not mold, but the scent of wildflowers and the sweet aroma unique to that woman.
For a moment, Cheng Beitang wondered if he had gone to the wrong room, or if blood loss was making him hallucinate.
Subconsciously, he stepped back and glanced at the room number.
No mistake. It really was his place.
“What are you standing there for?”
A trembling scolding voice shattered his daze.
The moment Su Huaijin saw his miserable state, tears instantly welled up in her eyes.
She didn’t care about dirt or cleanliness anymore. Barefoot, she rushed over, grabbed his uninjured arm, and dragged him inside.
“Are you planning to stand at the door like some guardian statue? Get in here!”
Only after she tugged him did Cheng Beitang seem to regain his senses.
He stumbled over the threshold, his military boots stepping onto the spotless cement floor Su Huaijin had just cleaned, leaving behind bloody muddy footprints.
“Dirty…”
He instinctively tried to pull his feet back, his voice hoarse like he had swallowed sand.
“Don’t dirty the place…”
A place this clean wasn’t somewhere he deserved to step into.
“Dirty my ass!”
Su Huaijin shouted angrily through her tears.
She pushed Cheng Beitang down onto the bed with its fresh sheets, then hurried to rummage through the green first-aid kit.
“Where are you hurt? Is it this arm? Did a doctor look at it? Why are you bleeding so much?!”
She rambled anxiously while fumbling around for scissors and gauze.
Cheng Beitang sat on the soft bed, cushions sinking beneath him, the scent of flowers lingering around him.
He watched the figure bustling beneath the warm light.
She was wearing that new dark blue dress, her pale neck and arms dazzling beneath the lamp. The light wrapped her in a golden glow, making her look like a fairy descended from heaven.
And this fairy was crying for him.
The overwhelming sense of unreality and happiness instantly shattered the tension he had held onto for three straight days.
“Wife.”
Cheng Beitang suddenly spoke, his deep voice carrying a vulnerability she had never heard before.
Su Huaijin paused with the scissors in hand and turned back with reddened eyes.
“What?”
Cheng Beitang said nothing.
Instead, he reached out with his uninjured left hand, wrapped it around her waist, and pulled her directly into his arms.
“Ah—Cheng Beitang, you’re injured!”
Su Huaijin cried out, though she didn’t struggle. She only carefully avoided touching his wound.
Cheng Beitang buried his face deeply against her stomach, greedily breathing in her scent through the thin layer of fabric.
That was the smell of home.
The kind of warmth he had never dared dream of in all twenty-eight years of his life.
“Let me hold you for a while.”
His muffled voice was thick with exhaustion and dependence.
“Just for a little while.”
He had crawled through piles of corpses for three days and three nights, and the only thing on his mind had been her.
Now, he had finally come back alive.
Su Huaijin felt the trembling of the large hand around her waist, and the warmth radiating through her dress.
Her heart instantly softened into water.
She set down the scissors, raised her hand gently, and tenderly stroked his rough, bristly hair.
“Alright. You can hold me.”
She sniffed softly.
“You can hold me as long as you want. Welcome home, Cheng Beitang.”
Cheng Beitang rubbed against her in silence, the corners of his lips slowly curling into a satisfied smile where no one could see it.
This was wonderful.
He finally had a home.