“I really didn’t go to much trouble. I’d tasted this braised food before and thought it was delicious, so I wanted to bring some for you, Auntie.”
Lin Huiru spoke shyly, though she had truly spent a small fortune. The braised meat cost 1.6 yuan per jin, and she bought five jin—eight yuan in total, nearly all the money she had saved.
If it weren’t to curry favor with Song Meijuan, she would never have spent so much. She had considered buying other gifts, but after calculating the prices, they would have cost even more.
She simply didn’t have that kind of money. After thinking it over, food seemed appropriate—it would show that she was always thinking of Song Meijuan.
“You’re such a thoughtful child.”
Though Song Meijuan said this, her attitude toward Lin Huiru wasn’t particularly warm.
But that was simply her temperament—she preferred quiet and wasn’t overly affectionate even with her own children.
Lin Huiru couldn’t help cursing inwardly. Song Meijuan was truly hard to please. She had visited the Wen family residence many times, yet Song Meijuan’s attitude had always remained lukewarm.
After sitting for a short while, Mu Wanwan excused herself, saying she still had things to take care of, and left early.
As soon as she left, Wen Xin could no longer sit still and moved to sit beside Song Meijuan.
“Mom, hurry and open the gift Mu Wanwan gave you!”
Song Meijuan felt helpless about her daughter’s temperament but still opened the box.
When she saw the qipao inside, she froze.
It was a teal-colored qipao.
Taking it out, she realized the size was perfectly suited to her. The style was different from the ones sold at the department store—more tailored, with a far better cut. The fabric felt soft and comfortable to the touch, and the color complemented her beautifully.
The more she looked at it, the more she liked it. She went inside to change into it.
When she stepped out wearing the qipao, both Wen Xin and Lin Huiru were stunned.
The teal shade made Song Meijuan’s skin appear even fairer. The dress hugged her figure flawlessly. She already possessed a classical elegance, and now she looked like a refined beauty stepped out of the Republican era—graceful and dignified.
No woman dislikes beauty, especially not Song Meijuan, who had always cared about her appearance. A genuine smile finally appeared on her face.
Without careful observation, Mu Wanwan would never have known her measurements. Judging from the craftsmanship, it was likely made by a renowned tailor—certainly not cheap.
Old Master Wen had been right. Mu Wanwan truly was a good child.
No matter how much Wen Xin disliked her, she had to admit the qipao looked stunning. It even stirred her own desire to ask where it had been made—her school would be hosting a National Day event next month, and she wanted to have one tailored as well.
But if it meant asking Mu Wanwan, she absolutely wouldn’t. To her, that would feel like lowering herself.
Lin Huiru did not miss the fondness in Song Meijuan’s eyes. Her hands clenched unconsciously on her lap.
Mu Wanwan was truly willing to spend money to win Song Meijuan over. If this continued, Song Meijuan might grow increasingly favorable toward her.
Old Master Wen already favored Mu Wanwan enough. If Song Meijuan joined him, then even if Wen Lin didn’t love her, Mu Wanwan’s position in the Wen family would only become more secure.
No.
She had to find a way to make Mu Wanwan and Wen Lin divorce as soon as possible. If she delayed any longer, she feared she would lose her chance. She couldn’t afford to wait.
A calculating glint flashed through Lin Huiru’s eyes as she lowered her head in thought.
Over the next few days, Mu Wanwan kept herself busy. She was either preparing braised dishes or visiting Old Master Wen at the hospital.
That evening, she had just returned from the hospital and was about to wash up and go to bed when a hurried knock sounded at the door.
She frowned in confusion. Who could it be at this hour?
Opening the door, she saw a young man in military uniform. A military vehicle was parked behind him.
Before she could speak, the man introduced himself.
“Sister-in-law, you must be Sister-in-law, right? Hello, my name is Wang Dazhu. I’m one of Regimental Commander Wen’s soldiers. He was injured during a mission this time, so we brought him back to recover.”
Wen Lin was injured?
Mu Wanwan frowned. “Is it serious? Shouldn’t he be taken to the hospital? That would be safer.”
“Sister-in-law, don’t worry. The commander’s injuries aren’t too severe. The wounds have already been stitched. He insisted on coming home to recover. We wouldn’t dare disobey him.”
Wang Dazhu scratched his head and helped another soldier in the car support Wen Lin out.
Seeing this, Mu Wanwan quickly stepped aside.
Wen Lin was carried into the bedroom. His face was pale. Bandages were wrapped around his waist and thigh—clearly more than one injury.
After carefully settling him onto the bed, the two soldiers prepared to leave.
Seeing that it was getting dark and that they looked travel-worn and exhausted, Mu Wanwan stopped them, insisting they eat something before going.
She had to cook for Wen Lin anyway—making a little extra was no trouble.
She held great respect for soldiers who protected the country. Without them bearing heavy responsibilities, there would be no peaceful and stable life today.
Even though she wanted a divorce and considered Wen Lin a worthless man in matters of love, in the army he had always been an outstanding soldier.
Since he was injured while carrying out a mission, it was only right for her to take care of him.
After her insistence, Wang Dazhu and the other soldier didn’t leave immediately and went back into Wen Lin’s room.
Wang Dazhu couldn’t help saying with envy, “Commander, Sister-in-law is really beautiful! Can you tell us how you managed to marry such a pretty wife?
No wonder so many girls from the art troupe liked you and you didn’t even glance at them. Then you suddenly got married—it turns out your standards were just too high!”
Wen Lin shot him a look, clearly thinking he talked too much.
Still, Wang Dazhu wasn’t wrong.
Mu Wanwan was indeed very beautiful—that much was undeniable.
Soon, the aroma from the kitchen drifted over, and Wen Lin’s stomach growled.
Since his injury, he hadn’t had much appetite and had skipped several proper meals.
Mu Wanwan made noodles—quick and convenient. She had simmered chicken soup for Old Master Wen at noon, and there was some left. It was perfect as a noodle broth.
Simple noodles topped with shredded meat and fresh greens, plus three fried eggs and a portion of stir-fried peanuts.
Served in bowls, they looked hearty and inviting.