“Three hundred dollars! Not a penny less! You hand her over tonight, and that’s that!”
“That fool drools all day, but his family’s loaded. This girl’s going there to live like a queen!”
“Tie the ropes tight! Don’t let her get away halfway—or where d’you think we’ll get the betrothal money to marry our Gangzi off?”
On a storm-battered winter night, shrill shouts cut through the rain, mixed with the jarring sound of fists hammering at a door.
Su Man’s eyes flew open.
All she saw was a pitch-black wilderness. Cold rain lashed at her face like a whip.
Her mouth filled with an iron, coppery taste of blood.
The shard of porcelain she’d bitten down on was still there, slicing the inside of her cheek—sharp pain shot through her.
This wasn’t a dream.
She was truly back.
Back in 1976, to that nightmarish winter night that had twisted the course of her entire life.
In her past life, her stepmother Zhao Guihua had drugged and sold her off to the village idiot Wang, just to scrape together betrothal money for her own son. Su Man had fought with every breath she had—only to have her leg broken, locked in a firewood shed, and left to starve for three days and three nights. In the end, she was dragged into a bridal sedan chair by force. She suffered endless torment, and died young, in misery.
Su Man bit down hard on her tongue. The sharp, stinging pain snapped her fully awake from the haze.
She glanced down.
The hemp rope binding her wrists had been worn through by the porcelain shard; her wrists were raw and bleeding.
She wore the same grey cotton-padded jacket, patched all over, now soaked through and heavy with rainwater.
In the distance, flashlight beams crisscrossed the rainy darkness, accompanied by the furious barking of village dogs.
“The girl can’t have got far! Search everywhere!”
Zhao Guihua’s grating voice drew closer.
Su Man’s heart hammered against her ribs, threatening to burst free.
Run.
She had to run.
Going back to her parents’ house would be walking straight into a trap. Her father was weak-willed and would never stand up for her.
Report it to the police?
In this era, authorities rarely interfered in family disputes. Worse—she might well be labeled a “shameless runaway bride” and sent right back.
There was only one way out.
Two kilometers away.
The Military Compound.
There were armed sentries there. High walls, electrified barbed wire. And him…
The man spoken of only in whispers in her past life—Lu Zhan.
Su Man fixed her gaze on the faint pinprick of light far beyond the rain.
Her only hope.
Ignoring the searing pain in her ankle, she fled across the muddy ridges as fast as she could.
This time, she would never again be a lamb led to slaughter.
Whoever stood in her way… she would tear them apart.
The rain fell harder. Mud and water blurred her vision.
The barking grew louder, closer—sounding as though the dogs would lunge for her throat any second.
Su Man didn’t dare look back.
She drove her legs forward mechanically, her chest heaving like a bellows.
At last.
A two-meter-high grey brick wall rose before her.
Broken glass lined the top, glinting coldly in the rain.
Su Man didn’t hesitate.
She took a running start, and with every ounce of strength left in her body, she leaped. Her hands clamped desperately to the wall’s edge.
Palms sliced open by the glass—blood welled instantly, mixing with rain and streaming down her arms.
She barely felt the pain.
She knew only one thing: get over this wall, and she lives. Fall back, and she dies.
“Over there! At the base of the wall!”
A flashlight beam swept across.
Su Man gritted her teeth. She heaved herself upward, writhing like a fish fighting for life—until she tumbled over the wall’s crest.
Thud.
The heavy sound of her landing was swallowed by thunder.
Su Man hit the rain-soaked grass hard.
A sharp crack came from her right ankle—agony blotted out her vision, and she nearly blacked out.
But she couldn’t stop.
Patrols would come through the compound at any moment.
Before she was caught, she had to find the one person strong enough to protect her.
Guided by fragmented memories of her past life, she dragged her injured leg and limped toward the red-brick building at the very back of the family quarters.
The compound’s only bachelor officers’ quarters.
Lu Zhan’s quarters.
Third floor.
Only one room had its lights on.
Su Man gripped the handrail and pulled herself up step by step.
With every step, a muddy, bloody footprint marked where she’d been.
Finally.
She stood before the dark green wooden door.
It wasn’t locked—standing ajar, just a crack.
From inside came the rushing sound of water. Someone was washing up.
Su Man drew a ragged breath. Her trembling hand pushed the door open.
Bang.
She stumbled inside, hauled the door shut behind her, and threw the bolt.
All in one desperate motion.
The air in the room seemed to freeze.
This was no ordinary room. It felt like the lair of some powerful predator. The air carried a rich scent of tobacco, steam from a recent bath, and the faint, sharp smell of sulfur soap.
Su Man lifted her head.
And froze.
Standing in the middle of the room was a man.
He had just returned from night drills. His torso was bare—broad shoulders, a powerfully sculpted back, every muscle defined as though carved from stone.
Water droplets trailed down his bronzed skin, winding past a jagged, pale scar that stretched across his back like a centipede, before vanishing into the waistband of his military trousers.
Hearing the noise, the man turned slowly.
His face was striking—sharp, commanding.
Sword-shaped eyebrows, straight nose, jawline hard as iron.
But it was his eyes that made her blood run cold.
Dark, piercing, utterly devoid of warmth.
Like a lone wolf of the wild—its territory invaded, ready to tear the intruder apart.
Lu Zhan still held a wet towel, about to dry his hair. He paused, his gaze fixing on her.
His brows drew together sharply.
The woman before him was a ruin. Soaking wet, hair plastered to her deathly-pale face, clothes torn and ragged—bruises dark and angry showing through the fabric. Mud caked her trouser legs and dripped steadily onto the floor.
She was a walking affront to his military-honed sense of order.
“Get out.”
Lu Zhan’s lips parted. Three words, low and rough—heavy with unmistakeable menace.
He despised women. Especially filthy, reckless ones like this.
Su Man trembled, overwhelmed by the sheer force of his presence. It wasn’t just the cold—it was the primal instinct of standing before something deadly.
This man was far more dangerous than the rumors said.
But she had nowhere left to run.
Outside, Zhao Guihua’s screeching voice drew near—she had reached the compound gates.
“Comrade…” Su Man spoke. Her voice was raw and broken, like sandpaper dragged over wood.
She didn’t weep. She didn’t scream. She lifted her small, pale face and looked him straight in the eyes. Rain dripped from her chin—but her gaze burned bright, burning with the last spark of life left in her.
“Save me. Please.”
She leaned back against the door, shivering violently from fever and cold. “Anything you ask… I’ll give it to you.”
Lu Zhan let out a cold laugh.
Anything you ask?
He’d heard that tired line a hundred times before. Starry-eyed performers from the troupe, meddling wives of senior officers trying to set him up—they all had their tricks. But showing up on his doorstep half-dead and covered in mud? That was a new one.
“I will say this only once.” Lu Zhan tossed the towel aside and stepped forward. His tall figure cast her entirely in shadow. The sheer weight of his presence made it hard to breathe. “Get out.”
He reached out—large, calloused hands—ready to seize her by the shoulders and toss her out like a stray cat.
That was when Su Man’s strength finally gave out.
Running, blood loss, and a raging fever had pushed her body past its limit. The world spun. Her legs gave way.
As consciousness slipped, instinct took over. She wrapped her arms tightly around Lu Zhan’s legs. Clinging to him like a dying vine clinging to the last great tree on earth.
“Don’t… don’t send me away…” Her face pressed to the rough fabric of his trousers. Tears spilled over, hot and burning—searing into his skin.
Lu Zhan stiffened.
She felt impossibly soft against him. Even through the thick fabric, he could feel the heat of her fever and the violent shivering of her small frame. Fragility, so absolute he could crush her with barely any pressure.
And yet… he hesitated.
In that split second of silence.
Outside, someone hammered at the door.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The wood shuddered under the blows. Dust drifted down from the lintel.
And then Zhao Guihua’s voice—sharp, piercing, carrying right through the wood into the room.
“Open up! Did you see that shameless hussy run in here?”
“I’m her mother-in-law! That girl was bought and paid for—she belongs to our family!”
“Comrade! If you’re hiding a runaway, I’ll report you to the Political Commissar! I’ll have you charged with immoral conduct!”
Su Man’s eyes widened in pure terror. It wrapped around her heart like a venomous snake. She looked up at Lu Zhan—desperation, grief, and a terrible resolve in her gaze. Hand me over… and I will die, right here, right now.
Lu Zhan looked down at her. His expression darkened to a thunderous scowl.
No one threatened him. Not that shrew outside. And certainly not this messy little girl at his feet.
But he hated being played for a fool even more.
“Let go.” Lu Zhan’s voice was ice.
Su Man shook her head frantically. Her fingers dug into his legs, white-knuckled.
Lu Zhan wasted no more words. He bent, his large hand wrapping firmly around her chin, forcing her face upward. They were so close she could see the storm of anger and calculation swirling in his dark eyes.
“Using me as your shield?” His voice dropped low—dangerous. “You’ve got nerve.”
The pounding and shouting continued outside. “Won’t open? I knew it! Carrying on shamelessly in there!”
“Come everyone! Look! A soldier abducting an innocent girl!”
The racket woke the whole quarter—footsteps and murmurs echoed down the hallway.
Lu Zhan’s expression grew darker still. He released her chin and reached for the door handle. Metal clicked softly under his fingers.
Su Man’s heart stopped.
It’s over. It’s all over.
She closed her eyes, tears spilling over, waiting for the door to open—and hell to swallow her whole.
But the door never opened.
Lu Zhan stood holding the handle, but did not turn it. He turned his head and looked down at her—helpless on his floor. In those cold, dark eyes flickered a glint of calculation she barely caught.
“You want to stay?” he asked.
Su Man stared, stunned. She nodded instinctively, clutching at the final straw. “Yes… please.”
“Very well.” A cold, cruel smile curled at the corner of Lu Zhan’s mouth.
“Then let’s see… whether you can pay the price.”