It was Zhou Zhuo.
Wen Mingyao’s “newlywed” husband, whom she hadn’t seen for a full two years.
She had thought about it, longed for it, dreamed of it.
But when that person truly appeared not far away, she didn’t dare to look at him.
Her eyelashes trembled slightly, her mind went blank, and her footsteps halted where she stood, motionless.
“Wen Mingyao!”
Whether it was an illusion or not, she actually sensed a chilling coldness in that voice, which had always been calm and unruffled.
Instantly, the three people beside her all turned their gazes toward Wen Mingyao in unison.
Wen Mingyao took a deep breath, gradually concealing the emotions in her eyes, and a faint, timely smile curved at the corner of her lips as she slowly turned around.
Her gaze fell on the man’s handsome face, her tone gentle and soft.
“Brother Zhou Zhuo, long time no see!”
She remained standing in place, her feet unmoving.
Zhou Zhuo gave a slight nod and uttered a soft “Mm.”
Beneath his striking, heroic brows, his nose was tall and straight, and the corners of his eyes tilted slightly upward. Just standing there, he exuded an indescribable air of noble elegance.
Under the sunlight, his fair skin, perfectly pale, instantly made him appear as cool and refined as jade, his entire being radiating aloofness and detachment.
His back was straight, the sleeves of his pure white shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing the smooth lines of his forearms.
Wen Mingyao lifted her gaze, quietly meeting his eyes for a moment. Her heart, which had finally calmed down… seemed to grow restless again.
For a fleeting moment, she felt dazed. Despite years of intense training, this man’s face bore no trace of exposure to wind or sun.
Even time seemed to favor him exceptionally.
Just as captivating as he had been back then…
Zhou Zhuo lowered his gaze, glanced at the suitcase in her hand, and said in a flat tone, “Can’t walk, or can’t carry it?”
Wen Mingyao’s breath hitched, her slender fingers tightening around the handle, turning pale without her realizing it.
Xiao Liu watched the scene curiously, scratching his head in confusion. Was the leader angry?
It was just a small suitcase, not particularly heavy. He could have easily carried it himself.
Just as Xiao Liu reached out, Sun Mai slapped his hand away.
Wang Xiaoqin also quickly whispered, “You blockhead, that’s Comrade Zhou’s wife.”
Xiao Liu’s eyes widened slightly, staring unblinkingly at Wen Mingyao, his mouth agape in surprise.
The leader’s wife…
The legendary, delicate capitalist’s pampered daughter…
His curious gaze shifted back and forth between Wen Mingyao and Zhou Zhuo.
When his eyes met Zhou Zhuo’s cold, stern gaze, his body stiffened abruptly. He quickly retracted his outstretched hand and pretended to scratch his head nonchalantly.
Wen Mingyao pursed her lips lightly. Just as she stepped in front of him, the weight in her hand suddenly lightened.
The suitcase was now firmly held in Zhou Zhuo’s hand.
The pure white fabric of his shirt clung tightly to his arm, his muscles slightly tensed.
Seeing this jarring yet intensely impactful scene, Wen Mingyao’s heart skipped a beat, and she quickly averted her eyes.
Zhou Zhuo seemed oblivious, his gaze passing over her to land on the three people not far away. He nodded slightly and said, “Let’s go.”
Wen Mingyao lowered her gaze and followed behind him. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at the suitcase in Zhou Zhuo’s hand, her expression complicated.
She had known Zhou Zhuo for five years.
In her memory, no matter the time or place, Zhou Zhuo had always been cool and detached in how he treated people and handled matters.
She had never imagined that one day, Zhou Zhuo would carry her suitcase.
Her gaze fell on those large, well-defined hands, and Wen Mingyao couldn’t help but feel a faint ripple of emotion stir within her heart.
She gently bit the soft flesh inside her cheek—did this mean… perhaps there was a possibility between her and Zhou Zhuo after all?
Wen Mingyao’s thoughts churned tumultuously, her mind a chaotic whirl.
She followed Zhou Zhuo mechanically, her entire being in a daze, barely aware of how she got on and off the vehicle.
By the time her consciousness gradually returned, they had already reached the entrance of the residential compound.
After bidding farewell to Sun Mai and Wang Xiaoqin at the gate, Wen Mingyao ignored the curious glances cast her way and trailed behind Zhou Zhuo all the way.
Only after they had walked far enough did murmurs gradually rise from the crowd:
“Is that the capitalist’s daughter that Leader Zhou married? Her face and figure look like a seductress—how could she possibly match Leader Zhou?”
“Right, right, only your niece from your maiden family is worthy, isn’t she?”
“Tsk, what do you know? What does that capitalist’s daughter have to compare with my niece? Look at her delicate, pampered appearance—can she wash clothes, cook, mend, feed pigs, or raise chickens?”
Upon hearing this, the other woman instantly sneered, “Leader Zhou has his allowances, lives in the dormitory, and eats at the canteen every day—isn’t that good enough? As for your niece, she wouldn’t even lift a finger if an oil bottle tipped over. If I were you, I’d be too embarrassed to boast like that.”
“Xiangxiu, you’ve met my niece—you have to be fair.”
Hearing this, Xiangxiu realized she had to leave before the fire spread to her. She hurriedly said, “Oh, sisters, my Old Zhang will be back soon. I need to go home and cook.”
Su Hemiao watched Jiang Yue’e’s furious retreating figure and couldn’t help but spit in disdain.
She roughly rolled up her sleeves, feeling immensely satisfied.
Truth be told, she didn’t like delicate capitalist daughters either.
But since Jiang Yue’e disliked that capitalist’s daughter, she decided she liked her—and liked her very much at that.
It was just a matter of speaking a few words, and it managed to make Jiang Yue’e eat humble pie. A win-win situation.
Su Hemiao lowered her gaze, glanced at the freshly picked fruits and vegetables in her bamboo basket, then looked toward Jiang Yue’e’s tightly shut door.
A meaningful smile curled her lips. It seemed she really ought to go take a look at that newly arrived capitalist’s daughter later.
She turned and hummed an unknown tune, leisurely making her way home.
Meanwhile, Wen Mingyao, whom she had been thinking of, was sitting at the table, facing Zhou Zhuo.
Zhou Zhuo tapped his slender fingers lightly on the table, looking at her. Suddenly, the corner of his mouth lifted in an extremely faint curve.
“Speak. Did my grandfather send you, or did my mother?”
“What did they ask you to do?”
Wen Mingyao’s eyes curved slightly as she gently shook her head. “Nothing. I simply came to accompany you in the army.”
“Accompany me in the army?” Zhou Zhuo looked at her deeply, his expression instantly turning icy cold.
“Wen Mingyao, I remember making myself very clear to you on our wedding day.”
“But since you didn’t remember, I’ll say it again!”
“Since we’re married, in public, I’ll give you the respect you deserve, and I’ll provide you with a portion of my allowance for household expenses!”
“But as for the love you want…”
Zhou Zhuo paused, leaning forward slightly, his gaze fixed on her for a few seconds before he enunciated each word clearly: “I, Zhou Zhuo, cannot give it to you!”
Wen Mingyao’s hand gripping the teacup tightened abruptly, her knuckles turning white from the force.
Her watery eyes gazed at Zhou Zhuo for a long time, and after a while, her heart had already calmed.
“One year. I’ll only stay here for one year.”
“Once the time is up, I’ll leave on my own—no need for you to say a word.”
Zhou Zhuo’s lightly tapping fingers paused slightly.