Strictly speaking, Lu Ze was not merely tedious. It was far more than that — he was controlling, relentless, determined to wear you down until you agreed with him and did exactly as he wished. He would talk and talk, lecture and exhort, until you yielded.
In her past life Jiang Yuan had grown up in the countryside. Most people there, men and women alike, had little education and less patience for persuasion. When children disobeyed, elders struck. When women refused, men raised their fists — simple, brutal, direct. To the Jiang Yuan of those days, Lu Ze had seemed extraordinary. Handsome, gentle, reasonable — never shouting, never striking, and always finding a way to resolve matters.
Now, reborn and wise to the world, she saw the truth. All the deference and courtesy, all the willingness to fall in line — it had never been for Lu Ze himself. It had always been for the uniform he wore. To her present self, his whole manner was nothing but tedious prattle.
Jiang Yuan’s expression tightened. At last she said: “Fine. Step aside.”
“Yuanyuan — with my father, there is nothing to fear. I spoke on your behalf, and he raised no objection. He agreed to three days — simply out of consideration for me. He would never stand on ceremony with a woman.”
“But with my mother — you must apologize properly. That morning you agitated her so severely the doctor was called. He says her heart and blood pressure are both fragile — she cannot bear the slightest excitement.”
Jiang Yuan’s heart burned. If only the shock had killed her. But the world is unjust — it is always the good who die young, while the wicked outlive turtles.
“I gave my father my word,” Lu Ze went on earnestly. “That you would never again trade unlawfully at the station. From now on — remain at home. Tend to household matters. Care for my mother. Win her over — and we shall be married. You will be an officer’s wife, living in ease and comfort.”
Jiang Yuan let out a cold laugh. “Let me advise you — empty those delusions from your head. In the eyes of the law, I am your father’s wife. That makes me your stepmother. Marry you? Have you asked your father? Have you asked the law? Do you truly dare me to report you for undermining a military marriage — and have you stripped of that uniform?”
She spoke recklessly, as always. Lu Ze did not believe she would actually bring charges — yet he stood helpless. In that brief moment, she had already walked past him and was gone.
Lu Ze stood alone, sighing. He had only two hours’ leave — and the time was nearly up. Lately Lu Qinian had shown him greater regard, overseeing his training and granting nearly every request. Lu Ze had expected nothing when he pleaded Jiang Yuan’s case — yet his father had yielded. Few could move Lu Qinian thus — and fewer still his adopted son. This was a rare opportunity, and he meant to make the most of it. Returning to barracks might even be for the best — spared the friction between two opposing forces. If Lu Qinian stood with him, then marriage to Jiang Yuan was only a matter of time. Let things unfold as they may.
Back home, Jiang Yuan’s first act was to carry the dried meat she had saved out to the courtyard for Dashun. After the treat, the dog became utterly devoted — trotting eagerly at her heels, tugging playfully at her trousers, begging for attention. Weary as she was, Jiang Yuan played with him in the yard — running, chasing, laughing. A dog’s energy is boundless, especially one kept indoors all day. Within minutes Jiang Yuan collapsed breathless upon the grass.
Dashun seemed to understand. He stopped running, trotted to his kennel, and fetched his ball. He dropped it at her feet.
Jiang Yuan picked it up, bouncing it lightly. “You want me to throw it, and you fetch?”
Dashun barked once and nodded, tail wagging furiously.
“Very well!” She hurled it. He raced after it, caught it mid‑flight, and trotted proudly back. Again she threw — again he fetched. On the third time, she feinted. She expected him to dash foolishly forward — instead he stood stock still, head tilted, looking at her as if to say: Nice try, human.
Jiang Yuan tossed the ball properly, feeling faintly defeated. A few more throws, another feint — and Dashun, seeing her look crestfallen, ran out anyway and returned proudly to cheer her up. Jiang Yuan rubbed his head affectionately. “Terrible acting. Utterly transparent.”
They abandoned the ball and began roughhousing instead — playful at first, then gradually more spirited, both thoroughly caught up in the game.
From the second‑floor window, Lu Qinian stood watching — the sight of woman and dog playing brightening his expression unconsciously. He caught himself, frowned, and smoothed his features back into impassivity. That woman is nothing but trouble.
Jiang Yuan went indoors, expecting to endure Song Yuhua and Aunt Liu’s usual barbs — yet to her relief, neither was about. She meant to rest — until she found her bedding was gone.
It was not cold enough to freeze — yet sleep without cover was impossible. She searched the house, then the spare room downstairs — bare beds everywhere. Only two people could be responsible — the mastermind and her willing accomplice.
Jiang Yuan knocked politely at Song Yuhua’s door. Three knocks brought no answer — so she pushed open the door and walked in unannounced.
Sure enough, Song Yuhua and Aunt Liu were both within. It was a suite — bedroom to one side, sitting room beyond. Song Yuhua sat in an armchair by the window, gazing out at the view. Beside her stood a small table set with dainty butter cookies, a cream cake, and a cup of coffee. Aunt Liu sat knitting nearby.
Both turned, faces identical in shock.
“Were you not arrested for profiteering?” Aunt Liu gasped. “How are you already released?”
“They said I ate too much,” Jiang Yuan replied pleasantly. “Keep me much longer and I’d have bankrupted the place. Unlike you, Aunt Liu — who never grudges me a single bite.”
She turned to the matter at hand. “Where is my bedding?”
“Did you even bring bedding with you when you came?” Aunt Liu began — only to be cut off by Song Yuhua.
Jiang Yuan smiled, unthreatening and calm. “If you choose to play that game — do not blame me for being uncivil. If I have no bedding to sleep under — then neither shall you.”
Song Yuhua assumed she meant to seize the bedclothes. She signalled Aunt Liu — who stepped forward, arms spread wide, standing guard before the bed as if defending a fortress.
Jiang Yuan glanced at them both, turned, and walked away.
In the washhouse she found no basin — so she seized Aunt Liu’s mop bucket. Too heavy when full, she filled it only halfway. Returning, she walked straight past the two defenders — and before they could react, upended the bucket across Song Yuhua’s bed.
The bedding was soaked through. Mattress, quilt, sheets — all dripping.
“You —!” Song Yuhua shrieked, composure shattered. She stamped her foot. “You shameless little hussy! I shall teach you manners today — or my name is not Song!”
She signalled Aunt Liu to seize her. But Aunt Liu was older, slower to react. When she lunged forward, Jiang Yuan swung the bucket — and struck her full in the face.
Aunt Liu cried out, clutching her nose — it was impossible to tell then whether it was broken, or whether she had been struck in the eye.