“You don’t need to pay her any attention in the future. She has poor character and low awareness. It’s not worth taking her seriously.”
Was that really how he evaluated a young woman?
How rare.
And kind of sharp-tongued.
“What if she keeps bothering me?”
Although she hadn’t planned on asking him to stand up for her, Lin Shuyao suddenly found herself curious about his answer.
After all, Su Xiaohong’s father was a brigade commander—his direct superior.
But there wasn’t a trace of hesitation in his voice.
Every word landed firmly and decisively, carrying the unmistakable sharpness of a soldier.
“If she dares, I have ways to deal with her.”
“Really?”
Carrying their things, they walked side by side.
His voice grew slightly lower than before.
“Military families have rules. Su Xiaohong is a brigade commander’s family member—she should be even more strict about discipline and conduct.
If she repeatedly provokes you, slanders you, or affects your work and life, that violates the military family regulations. I can directly report it to the Political Department. At minimum, she’ll be criticized; at worst, she’ll be formally disciplined. If it’s serious enough, she can even be ordered to move out of the military compound.”
Lin Shuyao paused slightly.
She hadn’t expected him to speak so decisively.
Even more, she hadn’t expected him to directly invoke military regulations to suppress the issue—each word striking at the core.
Seeing her surprise, he added,
“You don’t need to worry about her father being a brigade commander. Rules apply equally to everyone.”
There were many things she didn’t know.
Although he was only a battalion commander for now, he was young and had earned repeated meritorious service.
He also commanded the 233 Special Operations Battalion—the strongest combat unit in the entire Southwest Military Region.
He kept a low profile, but both his family background and personal achievements were far from ordinary.
His transfer to the Southwest wasn’t a demotion—it was a form of accumulation, or rather, advancement.
He would eventually return to the capital.
“You’re right,” she said with a small smile.
After they left the department store, the afternoon sun fell warmly over them, mixed with a faint cool breeze.
The car slowly drove toward the state-run restaurant.
It was lunchtime, and there was already a queue outside.
Rich aromas drifted out, making people hungry instantly.
He led her inside and found a seat by the window.
“I’ll go order a couple of signature dishes. Try some local specialties.”
“Okay.”
He ordered a full spread of hearty dishes: steam-pot chicken with Panax notoginseng, spicy and sour fish, crispy braised pork ribs with radish, and stir-fried wild mushrooms.
When the food arrived, steam rose from the table, carrying rich fragrance that filled the air.
State-run restaurants of this era served generous portions and simple, hearty flavors.
The steam-pot chicken stood out most—the broth clear and fragrant, with a subtle herbal aroma unique to Yunnan.
It was a local specialty rarely eaten by ordinary families.
He took a porcelain ladle and served her a bowl first, his movements gentle.
“This is steam-pot chicken with notoginseng. It nourishes the blood and energy. Try it first—it’ll warm you up.”
He knew she had just arrived in the Southwest and wasn’t used to the local food.
He deliberately avoided dishes with strong flavors, choosing something both authentic and nourishing.
She took a small sip.
The soup was light, sweet, and mellow, with a faint herbal note that wasn’t bitter at all.
Warmth spread through her body almost instantly.
“It’s really good. Even better than I expected.”
She looked at him with a genuine smile, her expression softening—less cold, more alive.
Seeing her like that, a faint smile appeared on his lips as well.
He added more dishes to her bowl.
“The crispy pork is good too—soft and rich, soaked in radish sweetness.”
“This spicy and sour fish is their signature. It has a little heat, but if you’re not used to it, just try a bit.”
“Okay.”
The fish was tender, the flavor mild and layered—slightly sour, slightly spicy, but not overwhelming.
“I can eat it. It’s not spicy at all. It’s delicious.”
Watching her eat happily, he unconsciously slowed his own pace.
The table was quiet except for the soft clinking of bowls and chopsticks, and occasional gentle reminders between them.
At some point, she suddenly asked,
“By the way… since logistics staff at the experimental fields aren’t formal employees, can they still apply for dormitory housing?”
The moment the words fell, his expression visibly changed.
She wanted to move out?
Why?
Hadn’t they agreed… to live properly together?
The warmth in his eyes faded instantly.
His fingers tightened slightly around his chopsticks.
A sudden chill spread through his chest.
The faint happiness from earlier dissolved in an instant, replaced by something tight and sour.
He lowered his gaze.
His thoughts darkened.
Doubt, unease—and a trace of unwilling frustration he didn’t want to admit.
He had never asked her why she had changed so suddenly.
Nor had he asked about her past with Chen Zhiheng.
Nor whether her so-called intention to live with him was even sincere.
Compared to the old version of her—cold, distant, even disgusted by him—this calmer, more capable, more independent woman had already begun to draw his attention.
Even… anticipation.
He had thought she was truly willing to stay.
But her words now were like a bucket of cold water poured straight over his heart.
Apply for housing?
Move out?
Did she really not want to stay beside him at all?
Even if he protected her… even if he treated her well… even if he ignored the past for her sake?
His throat tightened.
He couldn’t tell what he felt anymore.
Only a dull, spreading ache remained.