Qin Zhoucheng’s doubt was not directed solely at questioning Lin Su. A person’s energy is limited—doing one thing well in a lifetime, reaching excellence in it, was already extremely difficult.
Moreover, he had seen too many people who made grand promises before acting, but when faced with the first real difficulty, they could no longer persist. They cried, shouted, and demanded to quit.
People like that also existed among the second-generation youths in military districts.
And then he saw just how determined Lin Su truly was.
During the day, she cut and sewed clothes, took the finished garments to the county to sell, never missing a single market day. If she couldn’t borrow a heavy “28-inch” bicycle, she would carry a sack on her back and walk to the newly built Huigang factory area, or take a shuttle bus.
If she managed to sell clothes and get orders, she would return home chattering happily, like a little sparrow jumping around. If she couldn’t sell anything, she wouldn’t get discouraged either—she would still smile and say she would try harder next time.
He had never once seen her complain or feel defeated.
Her background and her life should have made her bitter and resentful, yet she was like a little sun, radiating warmth that even reached Qin Zhoucheng, making him feel that life wasn’t so hard after all. The hardships he once thought unbearable now seemed trivial—nothing more than self-inflicted suffering.
At night, she would light a kerosene lamp. Because her math and science foundations were weak, she bought middle school textbooks and studied step by step.
Qin Zhoucheng worried that staying up late would affect her energy during the day and forcefully extinguished the lamp, hoping she would rest earlier. But when he woke up in the middle of the night, he found her sitting by the stove, quietly studying political material and doing exercises under the dim light.
He hesitated, wanting to speak, but ultimately decided not to disturb her.
She was like a vigorous little flower—no matter how barren the cracks in the rock she grew in, she still tried her best to absorb sunlight and rain, never once refusing life’s hardships.
Qin Zhoucheng pretended he didn’t see her secretly getting up at night to study, but the weather was getting colder, and the main room was not warm at all. If she caught a chill, she would fall ill.
Even with all her determination, she still tried to share housework with him during the day—cooking, feeding chickens, feeding pigs.
Finally, one day, she was so exhausted that after carrying a sack of clothes home, she nearly collapsed before even entering the inner room.
Qin Zhoucheng caught her. When Lin Su slowly came to her senses, her body suddenly felt light—he had already lifted her up.
“Where are you taking me?” Lin Su’s voice was slightly nasal.
He carried her straight to the bed and tucked her under the blanket, then touched her forehead. It was slightly warm.
“You’re running a fever, do you know that?”
Lin Su touched her forehead. “I don’t feel hot… just a little tired. I’m not sick.”
“Your nose is completely blocked and you still say you’re not sick.”
Qin Zhoucheng went to the clinic to find Xiao Xiao, the village health worker. The village clinic was poorly equipped; Xiao Xiao was basically a barefoot doctor who had only learned basic emergency care in Haicheng.
“It’s not a serious fever, just a cold. If you want it to go away quickly, just get a shot of cefazolin,” he suggested.
“Without even confirming whether it’s viral or bacterial, you want to use antibiotics?” Qin Zhoucheng disagreed immediately.
As a soldier, no one understood better than him how important antibiotics were. But precisely because of that, he knew they couldn’t be abused. Overuse would lower the body’s immune response, and in the future, when facing more serious infections, ordinary antibiotics would become ineffective.
Xiao Xiao was surprised that Qin Zhoucheng even knew this.
“If you want to reduce fever, take a tablet of analgin,” Xiao Xiao suggested.
Qin Zhoucheng frowned even more. “Analgin has side effects. It can cause agranulocytosis. Even if the probability is only about one percent, it still shouldn’t be used casually. Don’t you have paracetamol? Acetaminophen? Or ibuprofen suspension?”
“Bu… bu what?” Xiao Xiao was completely confused. He had never even heard of those names.
Qin Zhoucheng waved his hand. “Forget it.”
Huigang’s supporting hospital was still under construction, and there wasn’t even a proper doctor yet. In a small village like Yu Family Village, having cefazolin and analgin already counted as decent.
The medicines he mentioned were only available in large city hospitals.
Lin Su was a little dazed, still confused. Qin Zhoucheng wasn’t a technician—wasn’t he in information engineering? How did he know all this?
Antibiotics shouldn’t be misused, analgin shouldn’t be taken casually… even people from Haicheng didn’t necessarily know this much.
But the low fever caused by exhaustion made her mind too foggy to think clearly.
Qin Zhoucheng fed her hot water, even cooked minced meat porridge himself, and somehow got salted duck eggs. Lin Su felt embarrassed, but he took care of her so carefully that she couldn’t even get the words of thanks out.
She fell into a weak, drowsy sleep.
In the middle of the night, her temperature rose and she began to feel cold all over. A warm source seemed to come close to her.
Instinctively, she wrapped herself around it tightly.
The “warm source” tried to push her away, but she clung on stubbornly and murmured something softly. Then the source froze and stopped moving.
She fell back asleep peacefully.
But Qin Zhoucheng was troubled.
The cold she felt was only an illusion—her body was actually burning with fever. He had tried to pull her away because, after all, they were only a fake married couple. He couldn’t take advantage of her just because of a marriage certificate.
One day, when his mission ended and he left, if anything inappropriate had happened between them, that would make him no different from a scoundrel.
His sense of integrity made him push her away.
Even though he already had some feelings for her.
But the half-conscious Lin Su persisted. Shivering, she kept pressing closer, refusing to let go.
Just as he was about to use force to pull her off and tuck her into her own blanket, she suddenly murmured a word—
A soft, dependent, and委屈 (aggrieved) “Mom…”
Then he saw tears fall from the corner of her eye.
“I hurt…”
Qin Zhoucheng froze.
Even with a mother like Feng Xiuhua, did she still miss a mother’s love this much? Yet by her side, there had long been no one to care for her.
She was so strong, so optimistic—but only at this moment did she reveal a fragile side.
His heart softened.
But he still couldn’t let her keep clinging to him. Normally, a brief hug or contact was acceptable, but now she was only wearing a thin nightdress, pressed against him—he could clearly feel her body’s curves.
This was truly the greatest test of his life.
Qin Zhoucheng closed his eyes, wrapped the blanket tightly around her, and let her hold the quilt bundle instead. Even if she clung to that, it was better than direct contact.
She rubbed her cheek against his chest like a small animal.
Qin Zhoucheng felt something soft and warm in his heart, like it was filled with tangled wool.
After a long silence, he finally sighed.
And let her stay, leaning against him.