Song Nanzhi pulled a small sewing kit from the bag she carried with her.
Occupational compulsion—she liked to keep these things on hand.
She approached the young woman, crouched down, and pinched the torn area between her fingers.
The people who had been waiting in the hall to take care of business all gathered around out of curiosity.
Song Nanzhi thought for a few seconds, then her fingers flew, moving so fast it was almost dizzying to watch.
The tear happened to be at the waistline, and she cleverly used that position to cinch in the dress, which had been slightly loose-fitting.
In just two or three minutes, she bit off the thread and smoothed the skirt flat with her hand.
“Take a look—how does it feel?”
There happened to be a full-length mirror right by the entrance to the office, and the young woman walked over.
Instantly, her face lit up with an expression of incredulous delight.
This dress had completely transformed!
The waistline had been raised, hugging her figure more closely.
The tear had vanished, replaced by carefully designed pleats.
“It’s gorgeous! Comrade, you’re amazing!” The young woman kept checking herself in the mirror, again and again.
The people around her also let out murmurs of admiration. “This comrade really has a pair of skillful hands.”
“Exactly. With this dress on, she’d look like she just stepped out of the most fashionable department store!”
Shen Yanting leaned against the corner of the wall, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.
His gaze had been fixed on Song Nanzhi the whole time. This woman really did… have some skills. Not quite like the pampered young lady he’d imagined.
It was just her judgment of people… that was seriously lacking.
He let out a barely perceptible scoff. Well, maybe that wasn’t quite the right way to put it—it would be like insulting himself.
The little boy who had caused the earlier commotion shuffled over under his mother’s watchful eye.
He looked up and said in a clear, crisp voice, “Thank you, big sister!”
Then his gaze collided with Shen Yanting’s.
Realizing they were together, he politely addressed him as well. “Uncle.”
His voice was small, probably because of Shen Yanting’s cold, hard aura. The boy shrank back slightly, a little intimidated.
Song Nanzhi couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.
Shen Yanting raised an eyebrow, straightened up, and closed the distance in just two or three strides.
He didn’t look at Song Nanzhi. Instead, he loomed over the boy, staring down at him. “Kid, you call her big sister?”
He tucked his chin slightly, gesturing toward Song Nanzhi with a nod. “Sweet tongue, huh.”
“But when it comes to me, I’m suddenly ‘uncle’? Do I look that old?”
The little boy was caught off guard by the question, blinking blankly, unable to find the words.
Was he really going to argue with a child? How childish could he get?
Hearing Song Nanzhi’s soft laugh, Shen Yanting turned his gaze to her. “That funny?”
His tone was exactly the same as always.
Song Nanzhi curved her lips into a smile. “Out of the mouths of babes.”
She patted the little one’s head. “Children have clear eyes. They see things most directly.”
Shen Yanting could hardly miss the teasing in her words. He let out a snorting laugh and leaned forward.
Lowering his voice near her ear, he said, “Oh? Directly?”
“Then did he see that it’s an old ox eating tender grass?”
His sudden proximity brought the faint scent of tobacco and soap wafting over her.
Song Nanzhi’s heart skipped a beat.
Here she was, an older woman still in her pristine state, suddenly faced with such “seduction.” The tips of her ears secretly flushed red.
But she forced herself to stay composed. “Regimental Commander Shen, mind your image.”
Seeing the heat rising on her cheeks, the mischief in Shen Yanting’s eyes deepened.
He grabbed her wrist. “Kid, take a good look. This is my wife.”
Song Nanzhi stared at the large, well-defined hand wrapped around her wrist, frozen for a moment, her heart racing.
Even as a modern soul who had seen plenty, she had to admit—Shen Yanting was top-tier goods.
Maybe she really was in for a good life now?
The little boy was speechless for a long moment before a few words tumbled out.
“Wishing Uncle and Auntie an early bundle of joy.”
He used the most auspicious phrase he’d ever heard from the adults.
Song Nanzhi: “…”
This little rascal had a strong survival instinct—just a moment ago she was “big sister,” and now she was “auntie”?
And “early bundle of joy”?
She instinctively touched her lower abdomen. Talk about hitting a sore spot.
The lazy mockery on Shen Yanting’s face froze for a moment.
“Kid,” he said with a tone of exasperated teasing, “‘A bundle of joy’—is it something you can just wish into existence? You think it’s like planting cabbages?”
As he said this, he glanced sidelong at the petite Song Nanzhi.
“Go on, go play somewhere else!”
Hearing this, the little boy looked as if he’d been granted a pardon, and scurried off as fast as his legs could carry him.
With so many people watching, Song Nanzhi’s ears grew even hotter.
“Hey!” She pulled her hand back and, through his military uniform, tugged at Shen Yanting’s forearm.
She’d meant to scold him for his unbridled mouth, but her fingers brushed against something firm and taut.
As if burned, she let go immediately.
Shen Yanting felt the brief, distinct touch and looked down at her.
Was she actually looking like she wanted more?
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Come on. Let’s go take care of business.”
“Oh.” Song Nanzhi turned her face away and obediently followed behind him.
In this era, their marriage application was processed very quickly.
Probably because the supporting documents were all in order, and also because of Shen Yanting’s rank.
The clerk only gave a few extra glances at Song Nanzhi’s pretty face and the column for family background.
But under Regimental Commander Shen’s cold and imposing demeanor, no one dared to ask further questions.
Stepping out of the office building, the sunlight was already somewhat glaring.
“Alright.” Shen Yanting stopped in his tracks, folded the certificate neatly, and tucked it into the breast pocket of his military uniform.
With a swift, practiced motion, he pulled out his cigarette case, tapped one out, and twirled it between his fingers.
“The approval will take a few more days. I have a temporary mission coming up, and I’ll head straight back to Zhou Island in two days.”
Song Nanzhi listened quietly.
Shen Yanting looked up. “Are you going to wait in Haicheng for the marriage certificate and the military dependant approval to come through, and then I’ll come pick you up?”
“Or will you go to Zhou Island yourself, and I’ll arrange a guesthouse for you?”
Almost the moment his words fell, Song Nanzhi made her decision.
She had raked up old grievances, offended her adoptive parents, and given away the job Shen Yuexi wanted.
Staying in Haicheng wouldn’t be easy for her.
Besides, every extra day she stayed meant another day of uncertainty.
“I’ll go to Zhou Island!” Her voice was clear and crisp. “I’ll leave tomorrow.”
Shen Yanting was visibly taken aback, not expecting her to be so decisive.
And it even seemed… a little eager?
As far as he knew, Song Nanzhi was a pampered capitalist’s daughter from Haicheng.
She had been infatuated with Song Youfan for over a decade, and everyone knew about it.
Now that Song Youfan was engaged, she ought to let go of those feelings, but…
She was cutting it off a little too cleanly.
Shen Yanting stepped half a pace closer, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So eager? It’s not like you’re after me…”
He knew perfectly well in his heart that Song Nanzhi was into pretty-boy types like Song Youfan.
He was ready to watch her blush in embarrassment and frantically deny it.
But Song Nanzhi simply lifted her chin slightly, meeting his gaze. “Regimental Commander Shen, you’re quite confident in yourself.”
Shen Yanting raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.
“One shouldn’t hang oneself from a single tree. One ought to try a few others, don’t you think?”
Shen Yanting: “…”