Aunt Mei gave an awkward laugh. She knew Jiang Lizhu’s temperament well—she wasn’t nearly as easy to push around as outsiders imagined. Aunt Mei wouldn’t dare try anything under Jiang Lizhu’s nose.
“Let me,” Gu Mingyan said as he walked over, taking new sheets and such from the top of the wardrobe. Without needing any guidance, he deftly changed the bedding, including the little mat belonging to the baby.
“That’s all. The rest have already been washed,” Jiang Lizhu explained softly to Aunt Mei.
“Alright, I’ll get busy then,” Aunt Mei replied, her expression immediately brightening. Even when getting paid for work, no one wanted to do more than necessary.
Aunt Mei hurriedly carried the sheets and pillowcases to the well in the backyard to wash them. She had arrived late today because she was listening to gossip, and Jiang Lizhu wasn’t offering any opportunity for chatter here. She might as well finish her work early and head home to cook dinner.
It wasn’t until Aunt Mei had left with her wooden bucket that Jiang Lizhu gently placed her peacefully sleeping son back in his crib. Gu Mingyan had already pulled the door partly shut and returned.
“Oh, right, I need to tell you something. I sold my job. My original plan was to wait until the weather cooled down a bit, then take our son and head to the military base to join you.”
Meeting Gu Mingyan’s gaze, Jiang Lizhu inexplicably felt a bit guilty again and added with an awkward smile, “Well, I was waiting for your telegram or letter reply before sending another telegram to tell you about this plan. It’s not like I was hiding it.”
It was a rare gesture of consideration.
Jiang Lizhu was still somewhat self-aware. She knew very well that the sudden revelation of having a son was something Gu Mingyan would need plenty of time to process. That’s precisely why she hadn’t included the news about her plan to join him at the base.
Gu Mingyan could only offer a helpless smile. They had both reflected and apologized to each other; the previous secrets and misunderstandings were now in the past. He wouldn’t dwell on them.
Gu Mingyan nodded. “It’s certainly good that you’re willing to join me at the base. But I’m worried about you traveling alone with the child. I’ll call the military district right away and ask the leadership to expedite the paperwork for me.”
“Given my rank, I could be assigned either a small courtyard house in the older residential area or an apartment in the new family housing building. The former is more spacious and has a small yard, while the latter is newly built with overall better conditions than the older area. However, there’s a waiting list for the new apartments—it could take anywhere from six months to a year.”
Back then, people generally preferred living in modern apartment buildings. Whenever a new family housing building was completed, it would be almost fully allocated. Last year, when he first telegraphed Jiang Lizhu asking if she wanted to join him, it coincided with the last major housing distribution.
Gu Mingyan had only been promoted to Deputy Regiment Leader last year. If he had applied back then, he definitely would have been assigned a relatively good apartment in terms of floor level and layout. Now, with all the apartments allocated, things were uncertain. Occasionally, a unit might become vacant, but it wasn’t guaranteed he’d get it.
“Do the small courtyard houses in the old area have running water, electricity, and their own private toilet and bathroom?” Jiang Lizhu cared more about practicalities. If it meant living in darkness every night or having to fetch water, she’d rather wait a while longer, or perhaps rent a place with her son in a town near the base.
Gu Mingyan pondered for a moment, quickly piecing together information about the family quarters he’d casually picked up from comrades. He nodded. “They have water and electricity, or can have it connected. You can hire someone to build a toilet and bathroom at your own expense. Tell me what you want, and once the house is assigned, I’ll ask a friend to help get it done.”
“Okay, I’ll think it over and discuss the details with you later,” Jiang Lizhu said. Since she realized she had transmigrated into this era, she hadn’t held high expectations for material conditions. Having water and electricity, making life convenient, was enough.
She had once been, in the worldly sense, the daughter of a wealthy and powerful family. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t handle hardship. During her years studying abroad, she had relied entirely on herself, without using any connections from her wealthy family or touching her savings.
Her decision to study abroad back then could be considered an act of rebellion. When she made that choice, she was fully prepared for her grandmother and that scumbag father to cut off all financial support.
Her scumbag father did exactly that, but the will her grandmother left… well, that had truly taken Jiang Lizhu by surprise.
Jiang Lizhu quickly pulled her thoughts back to the present and continued asking, “When did you see the telegram? How long is your leave this time?”
“Five days ago. The political commissar granted me a month’s leave. I should be able to get the military family paperwork and the housing sorted before the leave ends. However… my younger sister is getting married early next month. I promised my parents I’d go back home for a visit. Would you two be able to come with me?”
Gu Mingyan very much wanted his parents back home, and Second Uncle Chen, to meet his wife, Jiang Lizhu, and see their son.
But as a new father and a husband who was still essentially getting to know his wife, he wasn’t sure if the baby could handle the long journey, or if Jiang Lizhu would be willing to make the trip with him.
However, since Jiang Lizhu was already planning to join him at the base, it was possible she might agree to his request.
Jiang Lizhu didn’t agree or refuse outright. Instead, she said, “The baby needs to get his vaccination tomorrow. We can ask the doctor then whether it’s suitable for him to travel long-distance by train. We can also ask what kind of pediatric medications we might need to prepare, and get everything clarified at once.”
Because she was considering joining Gu Mingyan, Jiang Lizhu had previously consulted Dr. Chen, who lived in the same courtyard, on related topics. According to Dr. Chen, whether a trip was suitable depended on the individual child—their health, the quality of travel conditions available, and, most importantly, the parents’ ability to care for them during the journey.
“We really should ask the doctor first,” Gu Mingyan said, already pleasantly surprised that Jiang Lizhu hadn’t refused outright. He certainly preferred to trust the opinion of a professional.
Jiang Lizhu was also fairly satisfied with Gu Mingyan’s response. She smiled and asked, “The baby is in pretty good health. How long is the train ride to your hometown?”
Internally, Jiang Lizhu felt a twinge of anxiety. She suspected the one who might not handle it well would be her. Just thinking about long-haul flights was unpleasant enough. A train journey lasting several days and nights was something she had never experienced and could hardly imagine.
“From Su City, it takes two and a half days, with one transfer,” Gu Mingyan said. He could understand Jiang Lizhu’s concern, but if she decided to join him at the base, a multi-day train journey was simply unavoidable.
He could only do his best to provide better conditions and work hard to take care of both mother and child.
“Don’t worry. I’ll ask my comrades and friends for help, and I’ll make sure to get sleeper tickets. I’ll also learn how to take care of the child as quickly as possible. You just need to take care of yourself,” Gu Mingyan soothed gently. His slightly curved peach-blossom eyes appeared even more tender, truly giving off the impression of a gentle and refined gentleman.
Jiang Lizhu was only momentarily captivated before snapping back to reality, returning his gaze warily. “Let me make this clear upfront. If anyone provokes me, I won’t hold back, tolerate it, or just suffer in silence. If you take good care of me and our son, you’ll also save yourself a lot of trouble.”
The people for whom she would pretend to be docile were long gone. Since then, Jiang Lizhu had always lived freely and boldly.
In a new world, Jiang Lizhu had no intention of becoming a meek, suffering wife. Maintaining relationships with Gu Mingyan’s relatives was his responsibility. If he couldn’t manage it, Jiang Lizhu would simply and cleanly ‘manage’ him.
“Well, that makes some sense,” Gu Mingyan thought to himself, finding her wary look and the proud tilt of her chin amusing. But he also took her words to heart.
He had already witnessed a bit of Jiang Lizhu’s temperament earlier in the courtyard. She could cry and make a scene, and despite her slender build, she wasn’t afraid to personally scratch someone.
He was certain that even if he hadn’t shown up today, Jiang Lizhu wouldn’t have let herself or her son suffer any losses.
It was quite good.
Gu Mingyan genuinely felt that this spirited Jiang Lizhu was wonderful. Real and vivid. This was a side of Jiang Lizhu he had never seen before, a temperament he had never imagined his spouse might possess.
Jiang Lizhu continued asking Gu Mingyan about the family quarters at his military base until Aunt Mei returned after washing and hanging the sheets.
“Don’t trouble yourself with buying lunch today,” Jiang Lizhu said, but still handed Aunt Mei a box of pastries and five yuan. “Starting tomorrow, you don’t need to come. My husband is back now, so I can manage on my own.”
When Aunt Mei heard that Jiang Lizhu’s soldier husband had returned, she had already suspected as much. Jiang Lizhu was also generous; there were still three days left in this half-month, yet she directly paid a full half-month’s wages, not to mention the box of pastries Aunt Mei herself would never splurge on.
Thus, while Aunt Mei regretted losing the job, she harbored no resentment.
“Alright then. If you need help again later, be sure to look for me. I work quickly, you know,” Aunt Mei said with a smile, accepting the money and pastries.
Jiang Lizhu smiled back and agreed, “Of course. I trust you.”
After seeing Aunt Mei out, Jiang Lizhu let out a long breath. Turning to meet Gu Mingyan’s gaze, she paused briefly, then stopped putting on a brave front. She took off her shoes, climbed back onto the bed, stacked two pillows, and half-lay down.
Yawning lazily, she said, “I’m tired. Going to lie down with the baby for a bit. Lunch… wait until I get up…”
Since arriving in this world, Jiang Lizhu had worked hard to improve her health, but time was short. The emotionally charged scene that morning had drained a lot of her physical and mental energy. Now that the necessary conversations were mostly over, the burden lifted, her energy had noticeably waned.
Once the flush left her cheeks, her pallor and weakness were hard to hide. She curled up slightly, appearing so delicate and frail, a tiny figure.
“You rest easy. Don’t worry about buying lunch. I’ll handle that and also deal with everything related to reporting to the authorities,” Gu Mingyan said, his expression and tone even more gentle.
Jiang Lizhu didn’t stand on ceremony. “Alright, I’ll leave it all to you then. The lunchboxes are in the cupboard, and the room key is in the left drawer of the desk.”
“Okay,” Gu Mingyan replied. After Jiang Lizhu closed her eyes, the guilt and helplessness in his gaze were no longer concealed. “Such a little one, yet so stubbornly proud…”
“Hmm?” Jiang Lizhu hadn’t caught the murmur and mumbled a query. Getting no response, she let it go. The room soon fell quiet, and before long, her consciousness faded, and she truly fell asleep.
“Wah, wah wah…”
“Lizhu… Lizhu… Wife,” Jiang Lizhu awoke to Gu Mingyan’s soft calls and her son’s pitiful whimpers. Still groggy, she instinctively sat up.
“I changed his diaper, but he’s still crying. He must be hungry,” Gu Mingyan explained quietly.
Changing the baby’s diaper wasn’t difficult; Gu Mingyan figured it out quickly. But a hungry baby needing milk was beyond his ability to solve.
He’d spotted a can of milk powder on the desk, but the label said it was adult formula, not for infants. Besides, even if it were infant formula, he wouldn’t know how much to mix or how to prepare it.
“Don’t cry, baby, don’t cry,” Jiang Lizhu murmured, turning sideways. Propping herself up with one hand, she began to deftly unbutton her dress with the other.
She paused mid-motion, looked up, and met Gu Mingyan’s gaze. He was holding their son, his face flushed crimson, his body leaning forward slightly and stiff as a board.