The voice was neither loud nor soft, yet it fell into Wen Mingyao’s ears with crystal clarity.
Even though Wen Mingyao knew it in her heart, hearing him say those words—”don’t like”—still stung sharply in her chest.
Wen Mingyao turned sideways, leaning her back against the wall, and looked up at the snow-white ceiling. She felt her eyes growing warmer and warmer, tears welling up uncontrollably.
After a long while, she finally reached out to rub her slightly sore eyes and sniffled.
Zhou Zhuo had already made it so clear.
At this point, if she pushed the door open and went in, it would be nothing short of humiliating herself.
Wen Mingyao took a deep breath and had just turned around when she saw a female soldier walking toward her.
She wore an olive-green military uniform, her figure slender and her waist delicate. Her brows and eyes were gentle yet carried a faint melancholy, her nose bridge delicate, and her thin lips pressed together silently. Her soft, dark hair was braided into two pigtails resting on her shoulders.
Her delicate and refined features exuded a fragile vulnerability.
Walking with a limp, she resembled a small white flower swaying in the wind.
As they passed each other, Wen Mingyao instinctively took a step back, her spine once again pressing against the cold wall.
Seeing the female soldier enter the ward behind her, Wen Mingyao, who had been about to leave, felt as if she were nailed to the spot, unable to take another step.
She closed her eyes and exhaled a heavy breath.
Intuition told her that this young woman was the star performer of the cultural troupe Jiang Yao had mentioned in the cafeteria earlier, the ballet dancer, and also… the moon in Zhou Zhuo’s heart.
A voice in her mind seemed to whisper: Listen a little longer, even if just for a moment.
It carried a faintly tempting tone.
Wen Mingyao opened her eyes and cautiously remained where she stood, her breathing instinctively softening.
Perhaps due to disrepair over the years, the door still wasn’t fully closed.
Lu Ming sat cross-legged on the hospital bed in a carefree manner. As soon as he saw the newcomer, he asked, “Hey, isn’t this Comrade Ye? Didn’t you go home after getting bandaged? Why are you back?”
Hearing this, Ye Jingjing pursed her lips and gently shook the oil-paper package in her hand. “I was afraid you wouldn’t have anything to eat for lunch, so I brought some sponge cake from home.”
A thunderous crash.
It felt as though something had suddenly exploded in Wen Mingyao’s mind.
If she had only been sixty percent suspicious before, now she was almost certain.
Her pale fingers weakly gripped the wall behind her, barely steadying her swaying body.
Wen Mingyao lowered her gaze to the two aluminum lunch boxes in the mesh bag and the chopsticks carefully wrapped in a clean handkerchief, feeling nothing but bitter irony.
She thought to herself, it turned out she was nothing but a complete joke.
She reached out and gently patted her dazed head, then trudged away with heavy steps, her slender figure gradually disappearing through the main entrance.
Lu Ming casually tossed the apple core into the nearby metal tray. “How can we accept this!”
Then, he shot a meaningful glance at Zhou Zhuo, whose expression remained indifferent.
Brother Zhuo usually seems fine, but I really don’t understand how his taste could be so poor…
Although Ye Jingjing looks sickly at first glance, Sister-in-law’s appearance and temperament are miles ahead of hers!
Even if Brother Zhuo and Sister-in-law had an arranged marriage without any emotional foundation, since he’s already married, he should put aside those previous feelings.
At this thought, although Lu Ming felt that Zhou Zhuo was a reliable and responsible person, he couldn’t help but silently pray every time he saw Ye Jingjing:
I hope Brother Zhuo can keep his eyes open, pay more attention to the person by his side, and never make any mistakes in conduct.
Just as Ye Jingjing reached out her hand, Lu Ming quickly intercepted the oil-paper package and raised an eyebrow at Ye Jingjing, “Thanks!”
She clearly hadn’t expected this and froze in place for a moment.
Her slightly elongated, watery eyes were filled with confusion.
Zhou Zhuo seemed unfazed. He took a dark blue checkered handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands unhurriedly. “I’m heading back first. You two take your time chatting.”
Hearing this, Lu Ming immediately grew anxious—he didn’t want to be left alone with Ye Jingjing.
“Don’t go, Brother Zhuo!”
Zhou Zhuo ignored him and was about to pull open the ward door when Xiao Liu walked in, carrying a net bag in one hand and an enamel mug in the other.
His gaze fell on Xiao Liu’s hands, and he frowned, asking, “Didn’t I tell you to get a patient meal for Battalion Commander Lu after you returned? Why did you get one for me too?”
Xiao Liu instinctively shook his head and explained, “Sir, these two lunchboxes contain meals made by your wife herself.”
Then, he quickly added, “Actually, your wife came by earlier, but I was in a hurry to get Battalion Commander Lu’s patient meal, so I just told her the ward number. But when I entered the main gate just now, I saw her again. She said she couldn’t find the ward.”
After finishing in one breath, Xiao Liu couldn’t help but wonder: the medical battalion was only so big—how could she not find it?
Lu Ming, however, brightened up immediately: her timing couldn’t have been better.
Thanks to Xiao Liu, both he and Zhou Zhuo were now safe.
Zhou Zhuo glanced back at Ye Jingjing, his tone indifferent. “Comrade Ye, we already have lunch arranged. You sprained your ankle this morning and shouldn’t be walking around too much. You should go home and rest.”
“Comrade Ye, you’re here too,” Xiao Liu said, as if only just noticing Ye Jingjing’s presence, greeting her.
Ye Jingjing’s face paled slightly, and she forced a stiff smile at the corner of her lips, her voice as gentle as ever. “Then I’ll leave you to your meal. I’ll head back now.”
As her figure disappeared through the doorway, Zhou Zhuo was about to look away when his gaze inadvertently fell on the package of sponge cakes, a flicker of displeasure flashing in his eyes.
“Xiao Liu, you haven’t eaten yet, right? Take this package of sponge cakes and have them.”
In a couple of days, when Lu Ming’s arm was better, he could just buy another package to return.
Who told him to be so quick to accept someone else’s gift!
Xiao Liu glanced quickly at Lu Ming and, seeing that he didn’t object, took the sponge cakes Zhou Zhuo handed him and left swiftly.
Zhou Zhuo opened the aluminum lunchboxes one by one. Seeing one filled to the brim with white rice and the other tightly packed with pickled vegetable noodles, he couldn’t help but pause in thought.
The dishes Wen Mingyao had made these past few days—whether it was the hearty harvest stew, the braised eggplant in sauce, or now the pickled vegetable noodles—were all his favorites.
A coincidence?
Noticing his distraction, Lu Ming nudged his arm. As the tangy aroma wafted toward him, he couldn’t help but exclaim, “Not bad, Brother Zhuo! With your wife here, your meals have leveled up!”
Then, he rolled his eyes and asked with a grin, “Brother Zhuo, since I’m here, do I get a share?”
Zhou Zhuo shot him a sidelong glance and scoffed coldly. “You want some?”
“Go back and have your old man arrange something for you. Once you’re married, let your wife make it for you!”
Lu Ming gave an awkward smile and rubbed his nose, then shook his head again.
Listening to Brother Zhuo’s words, it didn’t sound like he disliked his wife at all.