The July sun over Shazhou blazed mercilessly, as though it meant to roast everything beneath it. Across the Gobi Desert, the wind carried fine grains of sand that stung wherever they struck exposed skin.
A green Jiefang truck rumbled into the regiment headquarters, bouncing over the uneven road.
The cargo bed was packed with more than a dozen young women. They were all unmarried textile workers from the provincial capital, brought here to attend a military-civilian matchmaking event organized by the textile factory.
After being jostled around for more than ten hours, every one of them had a sore back and aching limbs. Even so, the moment they arrived, they couldn’t help stretching their necks to look around.
The truck stopped in front of a row of single-story buildings. Hanging beneath the eaves was a wooden sign that read:
Temporary Reception Office — Political Department
The last girl to climb down from the truck was left far behind the others.
She was fair and delicate, with a slender figure.
Two long braids hung down her back to her waist, the ends already a little frayed, loose wisps of hair dancing wildly in the desert wind.
In her left arm she hugged a canvas duffel bag. In her right hand she carried an old leather suitcase. Bent slightly at the waist, she stopped every few steps to catch her breath, clearly struggling under the weight.
One look was enough to tell she’d never done a day’s hard labor in her life.
“I seriously can’t stand that dainty little act of hers,” one of the factory women sneered. “Only those rotten capitalist families could raise someone who can’t even carry her own luggage. Who does she think she’s here to rely on? Judging by the conditions out here, I’d say she won’t last a single day.”
Several others glanced over, their eyes openly filled with disdain.
None of them were pleased about the young lady from a former capitalist family who had been picked up halfway through the trip at the train station.
The driver had mentioned she came all the way from Shanghai. Someone in the military had specifically arranged for her to hitch a ride. Apparently she was here to join her husband with the army.
Anyone with half a brain could guess what was going on.
A pampered young miss like her was probably trying to avoid being sent down to the countryside and had run all the way out here to hide.
Did she really think this military construction corps, surrounded by endless yellow sand in China’s far northwest, was some kind of vacation resort?
A staff officer hurried over.
“You’re here! Everyone, register first, collect your temporary entry pass, then follow me to the guesthouse.”
The women chattered quietly among themselves as they lined up with their bags.
The registration desk sat beneath the eaves under a faded army-green canvas awning that snapped loudly in the wind.
Behind the desk sat a man.
Even seated, he looked remarkably broad and tall.
He wore an olive-green training uniform with the collar left casually open, revealing a bronze neck and collarbones darkened by years beneath the Gobi sun. His sleeves were rolled carelessly above his elbows, exposing powerful forearms laced with prominent veins. Several old scars crossed the back of one hand.
He wasn’t sitting properly, either.
One boot rested on the chair’s crossbar while his other long leg stretched lazily forward.
With his head lowered, he flipped through a registration ledger. His profile was sharply cut, as though carved from stone. His weathered skin was rough yet striking, tiny beads of sweat still clinging to the bridge of his nose. His broad chest rose and fell steadily, as though he’d just finished some strenuous task before coming here for a brief rest.
The instant he looked up, several women at the front of the line collectively sucked in a breath.
Those black eyes reminded them of a wild predator.
Untamed.
Rugged.
Dangerously aggressive.
Nothing like the upright, heroic military bearing they had imagined.
Rather than righteous, he carried the unmistakable air of a hardened rogue.
The staff officer led everyone to the table.
“This comrade is handling registration for the regiment today. Please cooperate and complete your registration one by one.”
Song Tingyue tapped his fountain pen lightly against the ledger.
“Letters of introduction. Work-unit certification. Hand them over. Don’t crowd. One at a time.”
He never even lifted his eyes as he spoke.
His deep voice was so stern it sounded more like he was drilling fresh recruits than greeting visitors.
The first young woman stepped forward, her hands trembling slightly as she handed over her papers.
Wu Ping, the staff officer, coughed softly, hoping to remind him not to treat these young ladies like soldiers.
Normally he wouldn’t dare.
But today’s matchmaking event had been specially organized to help solve the marriage problem among the regiment’s unmarried officers and soldiers—a matter the leadership considered extremely important.
Life here in the arid northwest was harsh.
Even drinking water had to be rationed.
If not for the Party’s arrangements—and the high level of political commitment these young women possessed—few would willingly come to a place like this.
The line slowly inched forward.
Every woman who stood before the desk found herself intimidated by the man’s overwhelming presence. None dared say much. After collecting her temporary pass, each hurried away.
“He’s so fierce…”
“Did you see his arms? They’re all muscle. One punch from him could kill somebody.”
“Oh no… don’t tell me all the soldiers here are like this. This place is remote enough already. If I’d known, I never would’ve volunteered.”
The women whispered nervously among themselves.
Listening nearby, Wu Ping quietly broke into a cold sweat.
He had no idea what wind had blown Commander Song over here today.
The man had only just finished leading his company on a five-kilometer run in light gear. Sweat was still running down his neck. He hadn’t even stopped for a drink before rushing straight to the temporary reception office.
Then he’d dismissed the regular registration clerk and calmly taken over the desk himself.
Commander Song’s perpetually cold expression was enough to make even seasoned soldiers nervous.
These young women stood no chance.
Eventually, the line reached its final person.
Wen Jianing set her bulging canvas bag and old suitcase at her feet.
“Your documents.”
His voice was the same low, hoarse rumble he’d used with everyone before her.
Perhaps even a shade colder.
She quietly placed an envelope on the table.
Song Tingyue picked it up and opened it.
His long fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the edge of the envelope, the knuckles whitening for just a moment, as though suppressing some emotion.
Without speaking, he continued examining the documents one by one.
Rapidly.
Methodically.
Finally, he spoke.
“Wen Jianing.”
Just those three calm words made her heart clench painfully.
“Yes.”
“Work unit?”
“I don’t have one. I’m not here for the matchmaking event.”
She lifted her chin slightly.
“I’m here as a military dependent.”
Only then did he raise his eyes to look at her.
Her almond-shaped eyes were bright and shimmering, stubborn determination flickering within them. After the long journey and carrying heavy luggage, her fair cheeks were flushed pink. Damp strands of hair clung to her face. Though she wore an expression that refused to admit defeat, it somehow only made her seem more pitiful.
His voice remained businesslike, though noticeably slower.
“Where’s your household registration transfer?”
“It’s in there.”
“And the transfer certificate, grain-ration transfer papers, neighborhood introduction letter…”
He counted through each document.
“You’re missing your marriage certificate.”
“I know.”
She answered with surprising confidence.
“I lost it on the way.”
Song Tingyue set the papers back on the table and leaned against the chair.
The old chair creaked loudly beneath his weight.
His long legs spread comfortably apart as he folded his arms across his chest.
“Your paperwork is incomplete. Regulations say you can’t be admitted.”
He paused.
“Unless your family member comes here in person.”
Not far away, several factory women exchanged amused glances.
“She’s done for.”
“The marriage certificate is the most important document for accompanying the army. Without it she’ll have to go back and apply all over again. Even calling her husband here won’t help.”
Wen Jianing stood silently before the desk, biting her lower lip.
He knew perfectly well.
How could she possibly have a marriage certificate?
Coming here had been a desperate gamble from the very beginning.
Song Tingyue glanced over his shoulder and barked at Wu Ping.
“What are you standing around for? Take them to the temporary guesthouse. Double-check the roster. If anyone’s missing—or if there’s an extra person—I’ll hold you responsible.”
Wu Ping hurriedly nodded and ushered the women away.
The military dependent wasn’t under his jurisdiction.
Still, the girl was so fair and pretty that she naturally drew attention. Somehow, he lingered for another moment.
He also had to admire her courage.
Out of all the women present, she was the only one bold enough to meet Commander Song’s gaze directly.
Even after losing something as important as her marriage certificate, she still stood there with her head held high.
Once everyone had gone, the courtyard fell silent.
Only then did Song Tingyue speak again.
“Where’s your husband?”
His tone sounded more like an interrogation.
Wen Jianing took a deep breath and looked up.
Her eyes were already red.
“Isn’t he right here?”
She forced a smile that trembled at the corners.
“In this enormous Gobi Desert… besides you, who else do I have?”
She looked at him, pressed her lips together, and finally whispered, her voice shaking,
“…Brother.”
Song Tingyue’s expression didn’t change.
Only the fingers resting against his arm curled ever so slightly.
It happened so quickly that no one would have noticed.
After a long silence, he let out a mocking laugh.
“So you’ve finally decided to acknowledge me as your brother?”
“Who was it that wrote to tell me we’d never have anything to do with each other again?”
“Who swore she’d rather die than call me ‘Brother’ ever again?”
“And who ordered me never to appear in front of her for the rest of my life?”
“Wen Jianing.”
“Our parents raised me. I have never forgotten that debt.”
“But I don’t owe you.”
“Tell me honestly—during all those years, did I ever do less for you than any real older brother would have?”
“I gave you everything I had.”
“When you fell, I carried you.”
“When you cried, I comforted you.”
“When you had a fever, I stayed by your bedside all night.”
“If you wanted the stars from the sky, I wouldn’t have dared hand you the moon instead.”
“I even washed your diapers when you were little.”
“And what about you?”
“How did you repay me?”
“You ungrateful little brat.”