Jiang Yuan’s words struck Lu Qinian exactly where he was most sensitive. Even Song Yuhua, though she might not grasp every principle, could read the storm gathering on his face. She hastened to distance herself.
“It is my fault entirely,” she said meekly. “I ought to have stopped Aunt Liu from calling Lu Ze. It shall not happen again.”
Jiang Yuan folded her arms and clicked her tongue. “Look at you — shivering, blue-faced, lips purple, teeth chattering like dice in a cup. We have plenty of hot water here. Why not bathe, change into dry clothes, and warm yourself? Why stand before him half-frozen? So that Lu Ze will see you shivering and rush to fight your battles for you?”
There was no mistaking her meaning: do not pretend otherwise. Song Yuhua stood silenced, face turning bluer still, lips darker with suppressed rage. Jiang Yuan let her savour the bitterness of helpless fury — then continued.
“As an officer, Company Commander Lu — you leave much to be desired. The service ensures every military family proper support, so that officers may serve untroubled. In this compound — if harassed, call the guards; if ill, see the army doctor; if in need, mess halls are open. Your mother could have found help for any grievance without ever troubling you. There was no need whatsoever to abandon your training and rush home. And as a son — you are equally lacking. Your mother stands soaked and freezing — yet instead of helping her bathe, change, and warm herself, you stand here striking noble poses and pronouncing judgement! By the time you finish your ‘justice’, she would have frozen solid! And you dare tell me to honour and cherish her as my own mother? Is this what you call filial piety?”
Lu Ze stood publicly humiliated, his face burning red then pale. At last he could endure no more. He leaned forward, voice low and sharp. “Jiang Yuan — what do you truly want? If you persist in this behaviour, do not imagine I shall always show restraint!”
He dared not strike her while Lu Qinian stood watching — and Jiang Yuan knew it. She stepped back, placing herself deliberately behind Lu Qinian. Lu Qinian’s gaze tracked her movement, coming to rest upon her slender hand resting lightly on his arm. He frowned, then turned his cold gaze upon Lu Ze.
“Get back to your post.”
Lu Ze turned and went at once. Song Yuhua opened her mouth to speak — but Lu Qinian’s cold glance silenced her. “Lu Ze is a soldier. His duty is to the nation first. Let this never happen again.”
“I…” Song Yuhua bit her lip, defeated. “Understood.”
Aunt Liu too opened her mouth — to ask what punishment Jiang Yuan would receive. Before she could speak, Lu Qinian turned and walked upstairs.
The entire scene had been staged precisely to bring him back. Jiang Yuan followed. She paused a moment outside the study door, knocked twice — then turned the handle and entered.
Lu Qinian looked up, watched her enter, sat down and lit a cigarette. Smoke drifted through sunlight slanting through the window. Jiang Yuan stepped forward, offering the ashtray with a bright, ingratiating smile.
“Division Commander Lu — might I borrow two hundred yuan?”
Lu Qinian tapped ash into the tray she held, not looking up. “Reason?”
“Because I need money — and you have it. Is that not reason enough?”
Money begets money — that was the plain truth. To scrape together capital selling tea eggs at pennies apiece would take forever. She could wait — but the child within her could not. When resources lay close at hand, one must be bold enough to use them.
Lu Qinian lifted his gaze, curious at last. She leaned toward him, two long braids falling forward, bright almond eyes clear and earnest.
“No,” he said simply.
“Not even that?” Jiang Yuan set the ashtray down, rested her chin lightly in her hand, and considered him. “Very well then… you are my husband. Is that reason enough?”
“Hardly.”
“Division Commander Lu — we are lawfully wed. A wife spending her husband’s money is protected by law.”
Lu Qinian let out a short, sharp huff of amusement. “Rights and duties are inseparable. One who fulfils no duty enjoys no right.”
Jiang Yuan’s eyes lit up. “Oh! So you mean… if I fulfil the duties of a wife — I earn the right to spend your money?”
Lu Qinian said nothing, merely smoked, watching her.
Before he could guess her intent — Jiang Yuan settled herself boldly onto his lap. She guided his cigarette-holding hand around her waist, careful not to let the hot ash touch her. She placed his wrist gently against her side. His hand rested there — and he looked down, struck by how impossibly slender her waist felt, barely wider than the span of his palm.
He looked up at her, his gaze calm, unimpressed, as one watching a child misbehave. “Get down.”
Instead Jiang Yuan lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck, clinging on firmly. Lu Qinian lost patience. He moved to lift her away — roughly, as he had before. Before he could, Jiang Yuan caught his hand — large, strong — and pressed it back against her waist.
“Division Commander Lu — I am fully prepared to fulfil my marital duties and lie with you.”
She spoke with perfect, unblushing seriousness — as though lie with you and go to school were phrases differing only in sound. He stared, unmoved. Jiang Yuan looked genuinely puzzled.
“Am I not beautiful enough? Too slender? Not… ample enough?”
She pressed lightly against him to demonstrate. Through thin cloth, softness brushed against his chest. Lu Qinian narrowed his eyes, considered, and said plainly: “Not particularly.”
Jiang Yuan’s pride rose to the challenge. As he braced to lift her off, she locked her arms tight around his neck, wrapped her legs firmly around his waist, and clung like a climbing vine. Lu Qinian set his jaw, withdrew his hand behind his back, and endured it — stiff, unyielding, staring her down.
“Get down,” he repeated. Anger edged his voice.
Jiang Yuan knew when to yield. She loosened her hold and descended lightly to her feet. Better not to provoke him too far, she thought. If he were rough and I were to bleed… the child… and my life…
Lu Qinian strode to his desk, pulled open a drawer, counted out notes, and tossed them onto the table. He glared at her — take it and go, his expression said.
Jiang Yuan brushed imaginary dust from her clothes, counted the money. Two hundred and sixty yuan.
“I asked only for two hundred.” She laid the extra sixty yuan back, then took pen and paper and wrote a simple IOU, pushing it toward him. “Keep this. Repaid within one month.”
Lu Qinian looked at her, faintly mocking. “Not bargaining your ‘duties’ for payment?”
Capital secured, Jiang Yuan felt light-hearted. She stepped around the desk to stand before him, toes touching his shoes, head tilted back, smile bright and knowing.
“You sound almost disappointed, Division Commander.”
Lu Qinian looked down into her eyes. She looked back — gaze clear, bright, seemingly seeing only him. Long after she had left, he remained motionless. Slowly he unclenched his hand — revealing the burnt stub of cigarette and a small, angry red burn upon his palm.