Ever since that braised pork meal, the atmosphere in the household had changed in subtle ways.
The most obvious change was in Mother-in-law Lin Fen.
Although she still found Li Zhihuan displeasing in every possible way, at least when it came to “meals,” she kept her mouth shut.
Every mealtime, she would come out of her room without a word and sit at the dining table.
Whatever Li Zhihuan cooked, she would eat.
And Li Zhihuan’s cooking was genuinely good.
She could make braised pork, scallion oil noodles, pickled fish, tomato-braised beef brisket…
Although many ingredients required ration coupons or were hard to obtain, Li Zhihuan always found ways to use what she had and turn it into surprisingly delicious food.
Her modern office-worker skills had finally activated—resource integration and optimal solutions.
No oven? She could still pan-bake fragrant flatbread in a wok.
Limited seasoning? She could use the simplest scallion, ginger, and garlic to bring out the most extreme flavors of the ingredients.
Captain Qi Weiguo started coming home on time more and more often.
Before, he would rather stay in the unit longer than return to a home filled with arguments and coldness.
Now, every day after training ended, that lingering aroma of food felt like an invisible thread pulling him back.
Meanwhile, Li Zhihuan was fully enjoying her dream salted-fish life.
Sleeping until she woke naturally every day.
To her, Qi Weiguo and Lin Fen had become like two NPCs that needed scheduled feeding.
Her daily routine was simple: spend an hour or two preparing ingredients for lunch and dinner in the morning, then begin her leisure time.
She would carry a small stool to the balcony, bask in the sun, and read books borrowed from the military district library.
Sometimes novels, sometimes collections of newspapers.
She needed them to quickly understand this era.
She would also hum songs—pop songs from her previous life. The melodies were light and strange, completely out of place in a compound filled with revolutionary songs.
This kind of “laziness” and “eccentricity” naturally became the center of gossip among the military wives.
During their idle chatter, Li Zhihuan was always the main topic.
“Did you see that? The one at Captain Qi’s house is sunbathing again. It’s almost noon and she still hasn’t cooked?”
“She’s spoiled now. I heard Captain Qi’s salary is all under her control. She can spend it however she wants.”
“Really? Would Lin Fen agree? That fierce mother-in-law wouldn’t skin her alive?”
“Shh… lower your voice. I heard Lin Fen falsely accused her of stealing money a few days ago, but she got completely outplayed. Even her hidden savings were exposed. She lost all face and doesn’t dare act up anymore.”
“Seriously? This Li Zhihuan… she’s like a different person. So calculating now.”
Rumors spread quickly, and the versions kept changing.
Li Zhihuan gradually transformed from a “troublemaker” into a “scheming woman who knows how to control men.”
She neither knew nor cared about any of it.
She was busy improving her living environment.
Sleeping separately was great, but the room itself was too basic.
A hard wooden bed, a peeling wardrobe, a desk—nothing more.
Even the bedding carried a lingering musty smell.
This seriously affected the quality of her salted-fish relaxation.
So on a sunny afternoon, Li Zhihuan moved everything out of the room.
She stripped the sheets and blankets, soaked them in a basin, added plenty of soap, and scrubbed them thoroughly.
Then she even moved the bed boards out onto the balcony to sun-dry.
From the living expenses given by Qi Weiguo, she took out a few yuan and some fabric coupons and went to the supply store to buy new cloth.
She planned to make herself a brand-new, soft set of bed sheets and covers.
In her previous life, she had learned a bit of sewing as a stress-relief hobby. Though rusty, making simple bedding was not a problem.
That evening, when Qi Weiguo returned home, this was what he saw.
In the courtyard, sheets hung on the clothesline, clean and fresh, glowing faintly with the scent of soap under the sunset light.
At the entrance, bed boards and various items were piled up.
He pushed the door open and saw Li Zhihuan standing at the doorway of her room, seemingly in a battle with the closed door.
She had placed a small stool under her feet and was standing on it, holding a wet cloth, struggling to wipe the dust from the top of the door frame.
To make it easier to work, she had rolled up her trouser legs to her calves, revealing a slender, fair ankle.
She wore an old white shirt washed so many times it had faded. Because she was standing on tiptoe and stretching her arms upward, the hem of the shirt had slipped out from her waistband. The fabric on her back tightened with her movement, outlining a firm and graceful waistline.
From his angle, her slender waist subtly shifted with her movements, faintly visible beneath the fabric.
Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a soft golden halo over her entire figure.
Qi Weiguo suddenly felt his throat tighten.
As if burned, he quickly looked away—but his heartbeat betrayed him, thudding violently out of control.
This woman…
It seemed she never understood what her actions meant in a man’s eyes.
Like a fully ripened fruit, exuding a sweet fragrance, yet completely unaware of its own allure.
“Cough.”
He coughed heavily, trying to mask his loss of composure.
Li Zhihuan was startled by the sound. Her foot slipped, and the stool beneath her wobbled.
“Ah!”
She gasped as her body lost balance, about to fall off the stool.
At that critical moment, a strong hand shot out like lightning and wrapped firmly around her waist.
In a whirl of dizziness, Li Zhihuan did not hit the ground. Instead, she crashed into a hard, burning-hot chest.
The clean scent of soap mixed with sweat—belonging to Qi Weiguo—instantly enveloped her.
Stronger than last time at the corner of the wall. More intense. More aggressive.
Her cheek landed, without deviation, against his firm chest muscles.
Through the thin fabric of his shirt, she could clearly feel the heat of his body—and the thunderous rhythm of his heartbeat.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Each beat louder than the last, vibrating through her eardrums until they went slightly numb.
She could not tell whether it was his heartbeat…
or her own.