The blaring bugle sounded like a sharp sword slicing through the silence of the Gobi Desert.
“Ahhh—!”
A startled cry tinged with tears came from the most remote red-brick house in the family quarters, only to be swallowed by the thunderous training shouts echoing in the distance.
Su Huaijin woke up from pain.
She felt as though someone had stuffed her into a sack and beaten her senseless. Every bone in her body seemed to be falling apart.
She struggled to climb out of bed, her silk nightgown slipping off one shoulder. Using the faint light filtering through the window, she lowered her head to look at her arms and knees.
The sight was horrifying.
Her originally fair, jade-like skin was now covered in swollen red marks left by the rough straw mat beneath her. Around her hips and elbows especially, dark purple bruises had formed where the hard surface had rubbed against her joints.
“This isn’t sleeping… this is torture…”
Tears welled in Su Huaijin’s eyes.
Ever since childhood, she had slept on custom-made soft beds stuffed with goose down. This hard wooden bed and prickly straw mat in the northwest were basically medieval torture devices to her.
“Cheng Beitang, you bastard!”
She cursed under her breath, sniffling as she prepared to get out of bed for some water.
The noodles last night had been too salty, and her throat now felt like it was on fire.
The moment she moved, an intense itch shot through her ankle.
Su Huaijin looked down—and nearly fainted.
Three huge swollen mosquito bites had risen on her delicate ankle, bright red and lined up together like a string of little lanterns hanging against her pale skin.
The poisonous mosquitoes of the northwest!
“Wuuu… I can’t live like this anymore…”
Su Huaijin completely broke down.
She wanted to go home. She wanted to drink the rock sugar pear soup her mother made. She wanted her own bed.
Creak—
Just as she sat hugging her knees and crying on the bed, the rickety wooden door was pushed open.
A gust carrying the scent of morning dew and sweat swept into the room.
Cheng Beitang had returned from morning training.
He wore a dark green tank top with a wet towel slung over his shoulder. The muscles exposed on his body were firm and well-defined, gleaming with beads of sweat. His chest rose and fell heavily with each breath, radiating a savage, vigorous masculinity.
In his hands were two metal thermoses. Apparently, he had just gone to fetch hot water.
The moment he entered, he saw the spoiled little princess curled up in the corner of the bed, crying pitifully, shoulders trembling like a wronged young wife.
Cheng Beitang’s brows knitted fiercely.
Crying again?
Was she made of water?
“Early in the morning and you’re already bawling like someone died?”
He set the thermoses down with a loud clang that startled Su Huaijin into trembling.
She raised her head. Her peach blossom eyes were swollen like peaches, tears still clinging to her lashes as she glared at him accusingly.
“Cheng Beitang, you abuse prisoners of war!”
Cheng Beitang laughed from sheer irritation.
As he wiped the sweat from his neck with the towel, he strode toward her.
“How exactly did I abuse you? Did I starve you? Or throw you outside to feed the wolves?”
“Look!”
Su Huaijin no longer cared about embarrassment. She rolled up her sleeves and lifted the hem of her nightgown to reveal her knees.
“Look at your horrible bed! I’m a person, not made of iron! After only one night I’m already like this. If I stay a few more days, I’ll die here!”
For a brief moment, Cheng Beitang’s breathing stalled.
In the dim room, the woman’s skin was dazzlingly white, like flawless jade.
But now, that jade was covered with bruises and swollen mosquito bites.
He had endured gunshot wounds and knife wounds before without even blinking. Yet now, looking at these tiny “surface injuries” on her body, he strangely found them… irritating to look at.
What a princess-and-the-pea.
“Too delicate.”
Cheng Beitang snorted coldly and looked away, concealing the strange flicker in his eyes.
He turned and walked to the doorway, bending down to drag something inside.
Clunk!
A thick wooden board, polished smooth and carrying the scent of fresh wood, was dropped beside the bed.
Su Huaijin froze, staring at him blankly through her tears.
“Wh-what is that?”
“A coffin lid.”
Cheng Beitang answered viciously before casually tossing aside the straw mat. Then, like lifting a chicken, he grabbed Su Huaijin by the arm and hauled her off the bed with one hand.
“Ah! Be gentler!” she cried out.
The moment her feet touched the floor, Cheng Beitang pressed her onto the room’s only stool.
“Sit still. If you squirm around, I’ll throw you outside.”
After threatening her, he turned and got to work.
With swift, efficient movements, he removed the uneven old bed planks covered in splinters and tossed them aside. Then he carefully laid the newly polished board in place.
It fit perfectly.
To keep it from wobbling, he even thoughtfully stuffed folded newspapers into the four corners.
Su Huaijin sat on the stool in stunned silence, watching everything unfold.
The wooden board looked brand new. Its surface had been planed smooth, even the edges carefully rounded. It was obvious someone had put serious effort into it.
Thinking back to the faint sound of sawing she’d heard in her dazed state last night…
Su Huaijin bit her lip, and some of the grievance in her heart suddenly faded.
“Did… did you make this last night?” she asked softly.
After finishing the bed, Cheng Beitang dusted the wood shavings off his hands and turned to look down at her from above. His eyes remained as cold as ice.
“Don’t flatter yourself. These are leftover scraps from fixing the pigpen.”
Su Huaijin: “…”
Did this man eat arsenic for breakfast?
“Go wash your face.” Cheng Beitang pointed toward the washstand. “After that, I’ll take you to the mess hall for breakfast. Then hurry up and buy your ticket and get out of here. Don’t linger in my place.”
The moment she heard “buy your ticket,” Su Huaijin immediately perked up.
Right! Divorce! Going home!
Suppressing the soreness throughout her body, she walked toward the washstand.
On it sat a chipped enamel basin with the Double Happiness logo and a dull gray towel so stiff it resembled steel wool.
Su Huaijin picked up the towel delicately with two fingers in disgust.
“Th-this is for human use? Are you sure this isn’t a foot rag?”
Cheng Beitang was pouring water when his hand jerked, nearly splashing boiling water everywhere.
He took a deep breath and reminded himself that murder was illegal.
“Use it or don’t. If not, wipe your face with your hands.”
Su Huaijin pouted pitifully and opened the suitcase she had brought with her.
Like Doraemon pulling treasures from his magic pocket, she took out a complete luxury washing set:
A pink plastic washbasin, a fluffy snow-white towel, a bar of Shanghai sandalwood soap scented with roses, imported toothpaste, and an exquisite rinsing cup.
Placed atop the battered old table, the set looked absurdly out of place—as though someone had moved a royal palace into a slum.
Leaning against the doorway with an unlit cigarette between his lips, Cheng Beitang watched her coldly.
This woman actually brought all this useless junk?
Ignoring him completely, Su Huaijin began washing up.
As soon as the fragrant soap foamed across her face, the entire gloomy little room instantly filled with an overly sweet rose scent.
That smell…
Cheng Beitang wrinkled his nose.
Too fragrant.
So fragrant it was dizzying.
Did this woman smell like this too?
He watched her bend over to wash her face. The exposed nape of her neck was pale enough to glow, with damp strands of hair sticking to it. For some reason, he suddenly had the urge to walk over and brush the hair aside for her.
“Damn.”
Cheng Beitang cursed under his breath and abruptly turned to leave the room.
If he kept watching, something bad was going to happen.