Cheng Beitang lowered his eyes, looking at the thin sheet of paper in front of him, then at Su Huaijin’s vividly beautiful face flushed with anger.
He did not explode in rage. Instead, it was as if he had heard some kind of joke.
He reached out with two fingers and pinched the divorce application between them.
“Divorce?”
Cheng Beitang let out a cold laugh, though the smile never reached his eyes.
“Comrade Su, do you think the army is your backyard? You come when you want and leave when you want?”
“I…” Su Huaijin felt suffocated under the pressure of his imposing aura. “No matter what, this marriage must end! I don’t like this place, and I don’t like you either!”
Blunt. Hurtful.
If it had been another man, his pride would probably have shattered on the spot.
But Cheng Beitang merely snorted disdainfully.
“Perfect.”
He released his grip, letting the paper flutter noisily in the wind.
“I’m annoyed too. A delicate little princess like you? I, Cheng Beitang, can’t afford to serve you.”
With that, he turned and walked away, tossing an order to the guard behind him.
“Xiao Zhang, since she wants to leave, send her back to the train station once the paperwork is done.”
Su Huaijin’s eyes lit up. She hadn’t expected it to go this smoothly. Though the man looked fierce, he was surprisingly straightforward.
“Yes, sir!” Xiao Zhang answered bitterly before glancing at the sky. “But Commander… the last train back to the city already left, and it’s getting dark. If we drive now… the roads are full of wolf packs. It’s not safe.”
Cheng Beitang paused mid-step.
He turned back, glancing at the darkness rapidly swallowing the horizon, then at Su Huaijin trembling in the wind.
Nights in the northwest turned freezing fast.
Just moments ago it had been hot enough to sweat, but now the cold wind cut straight to the bone. Her thin dress was nowhere near enough to keep out the chill.
“Then there’s no helping it.”
Cheng Beitang clicked his tongue impatiently.
He strode back toward her and, under Su Huaijin’s horrified gaze, bent down and lifted her ridiculously heavy suitcase with one hand as easily as if it were a sack of cotton.
“Follow me.”
Just two words. Impossible to refuse.
Su Huaijin froze. “Go… go where? I want a divorce!”
“If you want to feed the wolves, walk out there yourself.”
Without turning back, Cheng Beitang’s voice was as hard as stone.
“It’s late. No cars. No one’s taking you anywhere. Either come inside and sleep, or stay outside and feed the wolves. Your choice.”
With that, he carried the suitcase straight toward the family quarters.
Su Huaijin stamped her foot angrily. “Cheng Beitang! This is illegal detention! You—”
“Awoooo—!”
A chilling wolf howl suddenly echoed from the distant wilderness.
Su Huaijin stiffened instantly. The image of the bloody dead wolf from earlier flashed vividly through her mind.
Her face turned deathly pale, all her earlier bravado disappearing in an instant.
Watching the man’s figure grow farther away, she gritted her teeth, lifted her skirt, and limped after him in her high heels.
“Wait for me! Who said I’m staying? I… I’m only borrowing a room for one night! Tomorrow morning, once the paperwork’s done, I’m leaving!”
…
The family quarters sat at the far western edge of the camp.
The conditions were horrifyingly crude.
Red brick walls. Cement floors. Not even a proper courtyard wall.
Cheng Beitang stopped in front of the innermost room and pushed open the slightly warped wooden door.
“Go in.”
Standing at the entrance, Su Huaijin pinched her nose in disgust.
A bare wooden bed. A table with one broken leg propped up by bricks.
This was supposed to be a place for people to live?
Even the servants’ quarters in the Su household were cleaner than this!
“What? Too dirty for you?”
Cheng Beitang tossed the suitcase onto the floor with a thud and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her with amused eyes.
His mud-soaked uniform still hadn’t dried, and his tall figure blocked the doorway like an icy wall.
Standing in the middle of the room, Su Huaijin stared at the bed covered with nothing but a worn straw mat. Tears finally spilled down her cheeks.
“How can anyone live in a place like this…”
She had grown up sleeping under down comforters and stepping on wool carpets. To her, this was practically hell.
“Cheng Beitang, I want to stay at the guesthouse.” Her eyes reddened as she demanded.
“The guesthouse is full. Families visiting relatives are staying there.” Cheng Beitang’s face remained expressionless. “There’s only one bed here. If you don’t want it, sleep on the floor.”
“You…” Su Huaijin choked on her anger. “Then if I sleep on the bed, where will you sleep?”
Cheng Beitang looked at her like she was an idiot and pointed at his still-dripping training uniform.
“I still need to write reports, shower, and sort out my gear. This lousy bed is yours. Like I care.”
After saying that, he turned to leave.
“Wait!”
Su Huaijin suddenly called out to him.
At the same moment, her stomach let out a loud growl.
“Grrr—”
She had basically starved for two days on the train. Those dry hard buns had been impossible for her to swallow.
The air instantly froze.
Su Huaijin’s face turned scarlet with embarrassment. She wished she could crawl into a crack in the ground.
Cheng Beitang stopped and looked back at her awkwardly clutching her stomach.
Spoiled. Troublesome. High-maintenance.
In his mind, he slapped three labels onto his nominal wife.
But when his gaze landed on her heels—rubbed raw and streaked with blood—his eyes paused slightly.
“Wait here.”
Throwing out those two words, he strode off into the night.
Su Huaijin sat miserably on the hard wooden bed, staring at the unfamiliar surroundings as tears dripped nonstop.
Grandpa, I hate you.
Dad, Mom, I want to go home.
Wuuu… there are wolves here, and a man even scarier than wolves.
About ten minutes later, the door opened again.
Cheng Beitang returned.
In his hand was a chipped enamel mug, steam rising from inside.
“Eat.”
He set it heavily onto the table with a loud clang.
Su Huaijin jumped in fright before cautiously peeking inside.
It was a bowl of noodles.
Plain boiled noodles topped with two slightly burnt fried eggs and sprinkled with bright green chopped scallions. It looked terrible, but at that moment, the aroma invaded her senses irresistibly.
“I don’t eat scallions…” Su Huaijin muttered softly out of habit.
“Then throw it away.” Cheng Beitang made a move to take it back.
“I’ll eat it! I’ll eat it!”
Terrified, Su Huaijin quickly protected the bowl and began devouring the noodles.
She was starving.
Even though the noodles were a little too firm and the eggs slightly salty, to her right now, it tasted like heaven.
Cheng Beitang stood to the side, watching her puffed cheeks like a little hamster while soup stained the corner of her lips.
He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag. Through the swirling smoke, a faintly complicated look flickered in his perpetually cold eyes.
When he’d gone to the mess hall earlier, the cook had already gone to sleep.
He had made the noodles himself.
If the soldiers in his regiment ever found out their cold-faced commander had stayed up in the middle of the night cooking noodles for his wife, they’d probably laugh their jaws off.
“Hic—”
Su Huaijin finished even the soup and let out a satisfied hiccup.
The warmth brought some color back to her face. Her peach blossom eyes looked watery and soft, no longer quite so pitiful.
Setting down her chopsticks, she regained a little rationality and looked warily at the tall man before her, clutching her collar tightly.
“Thanks for the noodles. But one thing is one thing. I’ll pay you for them. Tomorrow morning, I still want a divorce.”
Cheng Beitang exhaled a ring of smoke. Through the pale haze, he narrowed his eyes and slowly swept his gaze over her body.
That look wasn’t one a husband gave his wife.
It was more like a hunter eyeing a reckless little wildcat daring to bare its claws at him.
Suddenly, he bent down, bracing both hands against the table as his sharply masculine face moved close to hers.
Very close.
Close enough for Su Huaijin to see his thick eyelashes and the dangerous glint hidden in his eyes.
“Su Huaijin.”
His voice was low and hoarse, carrying both mockery and warning.
“Whether we divorce or not depends on whether you can still walk out that door tomorrow morning.”
“Wh-what do you mean?” Su Huaijin leaned backward in fright.
Cheng Beitang straightened up, tossed the cigarette butt to the floor, and crushed it beneath his boot. As he walked toward the door, his voice drifted back with the night wind.
“The northwest has hard water, hard soil, and hard beds. Hopefully a spoiled young miss with delicate skin like yours can sleep well tonight.”
Bang!
The door slammed shut.
Su Huaijin sat frozen on the bed for a long time before finally realizing it.
He… was he deliberately trying to scare her?
She looked at the bare wooden bed covered only by a straw mat, then at the pitch-black wilderness outside the window where the wind howled like ghosts beating against the glass.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Su Huaijin curled into a tiny ball.
This was destined to be a sleepless night.
What she didn’t know was that outside the door, the man she viewed as a “tyrant” had never actually left.
Standing against the wind, Cheng Beitang listened to the faint sound of sobbing from inside the room and irritably raked a hand through his hair.
“So damn delicate.”
He cursed under his breath, yet still turned and headed toward the tool shed.
Half an hour later, a soldier getting up in the middle of the night was shocked to find his commander sweating under the moonlight, holding a saw and a planer, carefully smoothing out a wooden board.
“Commander… what are you doing?”
“Get lost and go back to sleep!” Cheng Beitang roared darkly. “I’m training!”
The soldier fled in terror.
Cheng Beitang looked down at the smooth bedboard in his hands, polished so carefully that not a single splinter remained. Then he glanced at the tightly shut door and snorted.
Back then, the old man had insisted on arranging this marriage with his dying breath, claiming the Su family’s daughter was a lucky star.
A lucky star?
Thinking of that tearful little face, Cheng Beitang curled his lips in disdain.
More like a disaster disguised as an ancestor.