“Fine, let’s divorce.”
…
“Shi Man, you’ve been expelled from the art troupe.”
…
“Where did this beggar come from? Get lost.”
…
Inside the red-brick building that served as the barracks dormitory, Shi Man jolted awake from a nightmare. Outside, a perfectly timed peal of thunder echoed as torrential rain poured down. The old red stone bricks in the courtyard quickly filled with puddles, and the green roof tiles rattled loudly under the downpour.
It was summer. Shi Man was used to heavy rainstorms. She wiped the thin layer of sweat from her forehead and lifted her army-green blanket, but when she got out of bed she accidentally kicked over the enamel foot-washing basin under it.
She had been badly frightened by that dream.
In the dream, she married Ling Zhen, the army’s notoriously fearsome Deputy Regiment Commander.
It was probably because she’d just gone on a formal meeting with him the day before yesterday. Back then, his cold and vicious demeanor had scared her, so she ended up dreaming about him.
Ling Zhen’s steely aura paired with his crisp military uniform made him look extremely rigid. His nearly two-meter-tall, powerfully built body was hard as an iron wall. When he sat across from her, even the teacups on the table seemed to tremble along with her heart.
He didn’t speak, only stared straight at her. His eyes were dark and sharp, like the king of wolves.
Rumor had it that Ling Zhen had grown up among a pack of wolves. A chill ran down her neck, and she felt as if she had become a little lamb caught between his jaws.
But everyone around her told her it was fine. Men should be cold and fierce outside—it made them less likely to flirt around.
Once in bed, they’d know cold from warmth and learn to cherish their wives.
Yet in the dream, Shi Man only realized after marriage that outside, he was merely a bit fierce.
In bed, he became much fiercer.
She thought of how he’d tormented her until her waist went weak and her throat went hoarse, that unbearable feeling seeming to spread into reality itself.
How could there be someone as savage and wolfish as Ling Zhen?
After marriage, she danced in the troupe with no strength left in her body and sang until her throat hurt. Quite a few people laughed at her with flushed faces, saying she was too beautiful and delicate—men couldn’t endure her, and she couldn’t endure men either.
Indeed, Shi Man quickly found herself unable to endure it anymore.
The night she bluntly asked for a divorce, not only did he not restrain himself, he was more ferocious than ever before.
She felt as though she was being tossed about to the point of losing her life. Half-asleep, she heard him mutter hoarsely by her ear something about “marriage lasting a lifetime.”
It was already nearly the 1980s, yet Ling Zhen was stubbornly old-fashioned. No matter what she said, he refused to agree to a divorce—completely impervious.
And it wasn’t just at night. Shi Man couldn’t stand Ling Zhen in every aspect of life.
He was cold by nature, inarticulate, and utterly unromantic. She would chatter on at length about how her good sisters’ husbands were sweet-talkers, but after listening for ages, all he would say was three words:
“Go to sleep.”
Shi Man was absolutely furious.
What’s more, Ling Zhen even enforced military discipline at home. Wake up at a fixed hour. Go to bed at a fixed hour. Eat at fixed hours. Even marital relations had scheduled dates and durations.
The quilt had to be folded into a perfect tofu block. Bowls and dishes had to be lined up in a row during meals. After training, he had to shower and scrub his boots immediately, not allowing a speck of mud on his body.
But Shi Man was a free-spirited person. No matter what, she couldn’t live in harmony with him. Especially when she compared him to her sisters’ gentle, attentive men, her competitive nature only grew more stifled and resentful.
Speaking of it, she, Shi Man, excelled in every way. Ling Zhen clearly had the best conditions as well, so how had her married life turned out so much worse than everyone else’s?
She vented all her anger on Ling Zhen, scheming to pick fights with him, arguing and making scenes.
Yet no matter how she behaved, Ling Zhen remained that same taciturn man. He let her throw a tantrum, and after she finished venting and he pulled the quilt over her and turned off the light, it would be a long while before he finally spoke.
Still the same words:
“Go to sleep.”
Those three words lodged in Shi Man’s chest, leaving her unable to breathe it out or swallow it down.
That blockage lasted more than ten years. Shi Man raised havoc heaven and earth, while Ling Zhen stood firm as a mountain.
In the end, she finally realized that Ling Zhen would never, ever be molded into a considerate man. Completely disheartened, she threatened death, and only then did Ling Zhen reluctantly agree to divorce.
But by then, the Song and Dance Troupe had long since replaced the old with the new. During those ten-plus years of petty household chaos, Shi Man had completely missed the tides of artistic development.
Releasing records, playing piano, acting in films, performing at the Spring Festival Gala—she had missed all of it.
Her sisters from the same batch had become household names, appearing in newspapers and on television, showered with flowers and applause from the masses.
As for her, she could barely rank within the troupe at all. On top of that, she spoke bluntly, had a delicate temperament, and liked to pull faces and throw fits. Back when she had Ling Zhen behind her, no one dared provoke her. But once he was gone and no longer cleaning up after her, she was quickly expelled from the troupe.
Only then, in middle age, did Shi Man realize that aside from a still well-maintained face and figure, she had nothing left.
Oh—she also had the house and the ten thousand yuan that Ling Zhen left her when he walked out with nothing after the divorce.
Back then, being a “ten-thousand-yuan household” was quite impressive, something people envied.
But Shi Man listened foolishly to her friends’ instigations, sold the house, and dumped all her money into going into business with them, dreaming unrealistically of getting rich.
Who knew she’d lose everything? The friends ran off too.
……
In the end, with nowhere to turn, hungry, filthy, exhausted, Shi Man was mistaken for a beggar by the security guards at the city’s very first five-star hotel.
The dream came to an abrupt end when several sisters from the Song and Dance Troupe walked out of the hotel’s resplendent lobby and looked at her with varied expressions.
Bah!
The more Shi Man thought about it, the angrier she got. What kind of cursed dream was that?
She, Shi Man, was the prettiest and most outstanding among this batch of newly recruited art soldiers. How could she possibly end up like that?
Yet strangely enough, whereas she normally couldn’t remember any of her dreams once she woke up, she could recall every detail of this nightmare with startling clarity—almost as if she had truly spent half her life with Ling Zhen.
The more she thought about it, the more irritated she felt. She shoved the blanket haphazardly toward the head of the bed, planning to go to the cafeteria to get a bowl of braised pork to calm herself down.
It was the weekend. The troupe had a rare break from rehearsals. She’d slept until the sun was high before getting up, just in time to catch meal hours at the cafeteria.
All the sisters she shared the room with were more diligent than her; by now, there wasn’t a soul in sight.
Shi Man quickly washed up, braided her hair into two plaits that were black and glossy as they fell down her back, then applied a bit of Snowflake Cream to her face, neck, and hands. Before she even had time to look in the mirror, the door curtain was suddenly lifted.
“Oh my, Xiao Man! I was looking everywhere for you—you’re still here fussing over yourself,” a bright female voice rang out before the person even stepped inside.
Shi Man knew immediately who it was—the wife of the Song and Dance Troupe’s Political Department director, known as Sister Mei, whose greatest passion in life was matchmaking.
Sister Mei had followed the army, hadn’t had children yet, and had a light workload. She poured all her enthusiasm into matchmaking, determined to find the troupe’s girls good men they could depend on for life, to stabilize the home front.
And she truly was formidable, having successfully paired off couple after couple, wearing out who knew how many pairs of leather shoes in the process.
Unfortunately, she’d hit a wall with Shi Man.
Shi Man’s demands were simply too many. She wanted someone tall and handsome, as well as young and promising, with a simple family background.
It wasn’t that Shi Man was overly ambitious. Sister Mei sized her up from the side—this girl had just turned seventeen. Her face was fair and tender, like a freshly pinched bud in early spring, her voice sweet and soft as if dipped in honey, her eyes bright and alluring, her legs long and waist slim enough to make even Sister Mei want to grab hold.
Among this new intake of female art soldiers, Shi Man was undoubtedly the most delicate blossom of them all.
So Sister Mei found Shi Man’s pickiness natural. Just from strolling through the cafeteria to grab some food, countless soldiers had already inquired about Shi Man’s name. The number of men who had come asking Sister Mei to play matchmaker was practically uncountable.
Unfortunately, after scouring the entire military district, Sister Mei found only one person who met all the criteria—Ling Zhen.
Nearly two meters tall, cold, yes, but tall and imposing. Just standing there, he commanded respect.
Only someone like him could keep Shi Man’s delicate, trouble-prone temperament in line.
What’s more, Ling Zhen had become a deputy regimental commander at a young age, with limitless prospects ahead. His parents were both deceased. Every single point met Shi Man’s requirements—it was as if heaven itself had tied the red thread.
Sister Mei shook the raindrops off her oilcloth umbrella and set it by the door. From the nylon net bag she carried, she dug out two small round tin boxes and placed them on the table, smiling with exaggerated enthusiasm.
“Xiao Man, this is White Rabbit milk candy that Deputy Commander Ling asked me to pick up for you at the supply and marketing cooperative. It’s a trendy item—very expensive. Have a taste. And these hawthorn rolls and slices too, your favorites.”
Shi Man looked at the creamy white candies wrapped in blue-and-white paper, along with the bright red hawthorn treats in the tins—exactly the same as what Sister Mei had brought in the dream. Her brow twitched, as if she could already foresee what Sister Mei would say next.
“Xiao Man, what do you think of Deputy Commander Ling? If you don’t feel you know him well enough yet, how about the two of you finding time to meet again?”
Sure enough—not a single word different from the dream.
Shi Man’s heart pounded even faster. She didn’t answer Sister Mei. Instead, she blankly lifted her head and stared at the army-green door curtain hanging there.
If her roommate Yao Wenjing walked in next…
Just as that thought surfaced, Yao Wenjing really did lift the curtain and walk in, carrying a half-filled metal bucket of water—once again matching the dream exactly.
Shi Man froze.
Could it be… that this dream would all come true?