“Which one is your blind date?”
Inside the green commuter truck, several female educated youths huddled together.
The girl with braided hair at the center held a black-and-white photo of two people, pointing at the man in military uniform on the right with a somewhat proud expression.
“So handsome!”
“He looks really tall. What’s his rank?”
The girl holding the photo tilted her head slightly, her voice rising: “Battalion Commander.”
A chorus of praises followed. Wen Yan glanced over.
Hmm?
He looks familiar.
She took another look.
What a coincidence!
Isn’t that my husband, whom I’ve only met once but have been married to for two years?
A solo photo of the same face was tucked in her pocket, with the name Jiang Baizhou written in blue ink on the back.
Aunt Wang, who had gone out shopping, pulled down her neck warmer, exhaling white breath as she leaned in for a look.
“Isn’t that Battalion Commander Jiang? I remember he’s married… but it seems he’s about to get divorced. His wife sent twelve divorce telegrams in one go!!”
The flames of gossip instantly ignited in the truck.
The protagonist, Wen Yan, sat quietly to the side with her arms crossed. The twelve divorce telegrams were real, but she hadn’t sent them.
The original host had married Jiang Baizhou after a photo-based blind date.
On their wedding day, Jiang Baizhou was called away for an urgent mission and didn’t return for a year. When he finally came back, he was immediately transferred to the Heilongjiang Reclamation Corps.
The original host had married out of spite toward a scumbag and was then deceived by the scumbag’s first love. She sent twelve divorce telegrams to Jiang Baizhou and threatened her parents with a hunger strike to agree to the divorce, only to end up losing her life.
After being brought here by the “Military Spouse Support System,” Wen Yan discovered that the original host looked exactly like her.
She first dealt with the scumbag, then focused on recovering her health and comforting her parents.
The moment she received Jiang Baizhou’s letter, she packed her bags overnight and headed to the Great Northern Wilderness. The System’s first task was to not get divorced.
As for this, Wen Yan decided to accept her circumstances.
In her previous modern life, she had died from overwork, and her ashes had probably been turned into a necklace by now—there was no going back.
Jiang Baizhou was the best military marriage candidate the System had screened across the entire dimension. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and long legs were just the basics; he was also extremely loyal and responsible.
But now, Wen Yan seriously doubted that. Would a responsible man arrange a blind date before she had even signed the divorce papers?
The girl with braided hair clutched the photo and said, “My aunt told me Battalion Commander Jiang’s divorce report has already been approved.”
“Oh, then they’re definitely divorced.”
“What kind of person sends twelve divorce telegrams, wasting national resources? That’s just petty bourgeois behavior.”
“It’s like trampling all over a man’s dignity.”
“They’re one hundred percent divorced.”
The girl holding the photo secretly agreed—she thought so too.
She had long admired Battalion Commander Jiang, but she was just one step too late, and he had already gotten married.
This time, after asking her aunt about Battalion Commander Jiang, she had come immediately.
Battalion Commander Jiang must be heartbroken now, humiliated by that woman’s twelve telegrams.
At a time like this, her understanding and compassionate presence would surely move him deeply.
The others who overheard the gossip momentarily forgot the biting cold, united in their disdain and criticism of Battalion Commander Jiang’s ex-wife.
She sounded like a capitalist’s daughter who only knew how to indulge in pleasure.
“Thud!”
The moving truck creaked to a halt. Everyone stopped gossiping and began asking what had happened.
“Comrades, the vehicle has broken down and is currently being repaired. If you’re tired from sitting, you can get off and stretch your legs, but the wind and snow outside are fierce, so make sure to wrap up tight with hats and scarves.”
The soldier from the passenger seat came over to the carriage to announce.
Inside the carriage, Aunt Wang, familiar with the situation, organized everyone: “Let’s all get off and move around a bit. The longer we stay up here, the colder it gets. This vehicle breaks down often, and there’s no telling how long the repairs will take.”
“What if it can’t be fixed? Are we going to have to stay out here in this freezing weather?”
The young soldier replied, “That won’t happen. The supply truck has a daily schedule. If it’s delayed too long, the reclamation team will send another vehicle to pick us up.”
The people in the vehicle felt slightly reassured. After all, this icy wilderness could freeze a person to death.
One by one, they stepped out of the vehicle, helping each other down.
Wen Yan was the last to disembark. She jumped down carrying a long, narrow canvas handbag. The young soldier nearby advised, “No need to bring your luggage.”
Wen Yan pulled down her scarf slightly and said, “I can fix vehicles. The sooner it’s repaired, the sooner we can leave.”
The young soldier wasn’t even wearing a scarf. In just this short time, his hair, eyebrows, and shoulders were already dusted white with snow.
“This comrade can fix vehicles?”
The other female comrades in the vehicle also turned to look at Wen Yan. This quiet female comrade knew how to fix vehicles?
“Yes!”
Wen Yan’s firm “yes” needed no further explanation, yet it carried an inexplicable, convincing confidence.
“Alright, then please take a look, comrade.”
The young soldier thought it best not to embarrass the female comrade—she meant well, after all.
Anyone willing to come to Heilongjiang for reclamation was a good comrade, even if she was just putting on a show.
At this point, waiting was all they could do anyway.
Wen Yan trudged through the snow, crunching step by step, until she reached the front of the vehicle, where she stood motionless.
The young soldier and the female comrades who had come to watch gathered around.
The young soldier wondered: Why isn’t she moving?
The others thought: She’s just wasting everyone’s time, trying to show off at a moment like this. How could she have the nerve?
If it weren’t for the biting cold that made speaking difficult, they would have criticized her a few times.
The young soldier tentatively asked, “Comrade, is there a problem?”
Wen Yan hummed in acknowledgment. “My hands are freezing.”
The young soldier’s eye twitched. It was an honest answer he hadn’t expected but couldn’t fault.
He was about to give Wen Yan an out, saying it was fine since someone was already working on it, but Wen Yan took a deep breath and slowly removed her gloves, her eyebrows furrowed with reluctance.
The moment the gloves came off, her movements suddenly sped up. She snapped open the toolbox with a sharp click.
Inside, the tools were arranged neatly, perfectly aligned, sorted by size and type—a salvation for anyone with obsessive tendencies.
“The fuel injector is clogged, and the spark plug is carbon-fouled.”
With astonishing speed, Wen Yan nudged aside the young soldier who had been bent over inspecting the engine. She took out her tools, dismantled the parts with crisp efficiency, cleared the fuel injector, cleaned the spark plug, and swiftly reassembled everything back into place.
As soon as she finished, Wen Yan put her gloves back on, pulled up her scarf, hunched her shoulders, and exhaled a puff of white breath. So cold.
An expert’s skill speaks for itself. The young soldier, initially annoyed at being pushed aside, instantly forgot his irritation.
“Try starting it.”
“Vroom—”
“It started! Amazing!”
Before the young soldier could finish his praise, the sound of a whip crack echoed from behind.
A horse-drawn sleigh approached from the rear, and a tall, long-legged man stepped off and walked over.
His voice was steady and clear: “From the sound of it, it’s fixed?”