The two-story building had been set aside specifically for the families of commissioned officers.
Unlike the lively row of single-story houses in front, this section of the compound was quiet.
There simply weren’t that many officers in the unit, and even fewer families assigned quarters here. Many of the apartments sat empty, leaving the building eerily still. The corridor lights had gone so long without being used that the bulb overhead flickered on and off.
When Wen Jianing reached the second floor, she saw Gu Lan standing beneath the light outside her apartment, a jacket draped over her shoulders as she looked anxiously down the hallway.
She was waiting for her.
Sure enough, the moment Gu Lan spotted her, she smiled warmly and hurried over, handing her a cloth bag.
“Tingyue asked my Old Li to bring this over for you. He figured you might get hungry tonight. I knocked earlier, but nobody answered, so I guessed you’d gone to take a bath. How was it? Was the water still warm this late?”
Seeing the concern in Gu Lan’s eyes, warmth spread through Wen Jianing’s heart. Not wanting her to worry, she smiled.
“It was still warm enough. The bath was quite comfortable.”
She accepted the bag and looked inside.
It held several plump golden apricots, each round and glossy, with a few fresh green leaves still attached. Beside them was a small packet of large, ruby-red dates.
Gu Lan smiled.
“These are local specialties. You won’t find apricots or dates sweeter than the ones we grow here.”
Holding the bag, Wen Jianing blinked.
The cruel comments she’d overheard earlier came back to her.
“Arrogant.”
“Looks down on everyone.”
She could tell Gu Lan was genuinely kind to her.
Slowly, she let down the cold mask she’d been wearing.
Her eyes curved into crescents as she smiled, her sweet voice gentle and unhurried.
“Thank you, Auntie Gu.”
Then she explained earnestly,
“Earlier, when I said I’d forgotten something and went back… half of it was true. I really had forgotten my soap. But the other half…” She lowered her eyes sheepishly. “…I was just too embarrassed. I wanted to wait until there were fewer people before coming back. I wasn’t looking down on everyone. Really.”
Watching the girl explain herself so sincerely, dimples blooming on her fair cheeks while damp strands of hair clung to the sides of her face, Gu Lan’s heart melted.
This child… she thought.
She’s obviously been raised in a scholarly family. Everything she says and does is thoughtful and well-mannered.
How could she possibly be the kind of heartless capitalist they keep gossiping about?
She’s clearly just a sweet, considerate girl.
“Oh, you silly child.” Gu Lan patted her hand. “Why are you explaining all this to me? I never blamed you.”
She paused before asking,
“Did someone say something to you? Don’t take it to heart. Some people just have filthy mouths. If they go a day without spewing crap, they get restless. Just treat their words like a fart and let them blow away.”
“Crap” and “fart.”
The colorful expressions left Wen Jianing momentarily speechless.
Suppressing a laugh, she said,
“Don’t worry, Auntie Gu. What other people say belongs to them.”
“My teacher once taught me a saying: Judge right and wrong for yourself; let others praise or criticize as they please.”
“And my father always said that getting angry over meaningless words is punishing your own heart with someone else’s mouth. It’s simply not worth it.”
Gu Lan didn’t fully understand the elegant quote, but she found the girl’s refined way of speaking incredibly pleasant.
The more she looked at Wen Jianing, the more she liked her.
Back in her own apartment, Gu Lan couldn’t stop praising her to Li Shungang.
“Tell me, how can there be such an adorable girl? She’s beautiful, educated, and so well-mannered. Tingyue really struck gold! My two little troublemakers don’t have that kind of luck. If I’d known, I should’ve dumped them in Shanghai when they were born. Maybe the Wen family would’ve picked them up and raised them, and then—”
“Enough, enough!” Li Shungang interrupted mercilessly, crushing his wife’s fantasy. “Why are you always dreaming up impossible things? Those two lazy good-for-nothing sons of ours couldn’t compare to Tingyue even if you cut them in half. The girl’s not blind.”
Gu Lan sighed.
“True enough.”
Li Shungang continued,
“And another thing. Nobody outside the family knows Tingyue was adopted. Six years ago, Old Song told everyone he’d simply brought his son home from the countryside. Don’t go blabbing about it.”
Back then, Song Zhen had genuinely forgotten he had a wife and child because of his memory loss.
But if that story ever got out, people might twist it into abandoning his wife and son after joining the army. One anonymous report to the authorities could cause enormous trouble.
Even Song Tingyue still harbored resentment toward his father.
After all, his mother had died without ever seeing her husband again.
Father and son had remained distant for years. Getting them to sit down and have a heartfelt conversation was harder than climbing to the heavens.
This time, Song Tingyue had brought the Wen family’s daughter here without Song Zhen knowing anything about it.
Thinking back to the confrontation that had just taken place in the division headquarters, Li Shungang rubbed his aching temples.
It had been a long time since father and son had argued so fiercely.
He’d spent half the evening caught in the middle trying to mediate.
“I’m not that loudmouth everyone talks about,” Gu Lan protested. “Why would I go around spreading gossip?”
“But if you ask me, Tingyue handled things poorly today too. What’s the point of sending a few apricots and dates? It’s the girl’s first night here as a newlywed. He should’ve stayed in the family quarters with her instead of running back to the barracks. He left in such a hurry that now people are already talking.”
“Please, give my ears a break for a while,” Li Shungang groaned.
If only it were that simple.
Song Tingyue hadn’t gone back to sleep in the barracks.
There was a good chance he wouldn’t sleep at all tonight.
The marriage certificate hadn’t even been processed yet, and he’d used his connections to transfer the girl’s household registration ahead of schedule.
Song Zhen had summoned him immediately for that very reason.
Not long ago, inside the division headquarters—
Song Zhen pointed at his son and barked,
“Do you think the army belongs to your family? That you can do whatever you please? You know perfectly well how serious this is! If someone digs this up later and the organization decides to investigate, can you bear the consequences?”
“I did it.”
Song Tingyue stood perfectly still.
“Whatever the consequences are, I’ll accept them. You don’t need to concern yourself.”
“As my superior officer, you have every right to punish me however you see fit. I’ll accept any disciplinary action.”
Standing nearby, Li Shungang broke into a cold sweat.
Song Tingyue’s stubbornness was even worse than his father’s.
“You—!”
Song Zhen’s face turned green with rage.
Grabbing the ashtray from his desk, he hurled it straight at his son.
Song Tingyue didn’t even try to dodge.
Bang!
The ashtray struck him squarely at the temple.
Blood immediately streamed down the side of his forehead, winding past the bridge of his nose before dripping onto the collar of his military uniform.
He didn’t even blink.
He simply stood there, ramrod straight, wearing the same impassive expression—as though the blood belonged to someone else.
Li Shungang finally snapped out of his daze.
He rushed over, pulling out a handkerchief and pressing it against Song Tingyue’s forehead.
“Quick, hold it down! Old Song, what are you doing? Can’t you two talk this out instead?”
After what felt like endless persuasion, he finally managed to calm the situation.
In the end, Song Tingyue avoided formal disciplinary action.
But punishment still came.
“Rewrite the regiment’s training summary for last quarter,” Song Zhen ordered, slamming a thick stack of papers onto the desk.
“If it’s not on my desk by tomorrow morning, come collect your punishment.”
Song Tingyue glanced at the pile—dozens of pages of discarded drafts.
Without a word, he raised a crisp salute, bent down to pick them up, tucked them under his arm, and walked out.
Li Shungang let out a long breath of relief, tidied up the office, and followed him downstairs.
But just as he reached the ground floor, Song Tingyue unexpectedly came back.
Somehow, he’d gotten hold of a bulging bag filled with apricots and red dates.
Knowing Li Shungang returned to the family compound every evening, he shoved the bag into his hands.
“Uncle Li, take these to my wife for me.”
He said my wife so naturally that Li Shungang froze for several seconds before realizing who he meant.
Before he could respond, Song Tingyue added,
“That little brat never settles down before bed. She’s always looking for something to snack on. So many bad habits. She’s a real handful.”
The words sounded like complaints.
But Li Shungang heard no real annoyance in them.
Instead, there was something else beneath the grumbling.
“All right. I’ll take them to her,” he said.
“As for your father… he lost his temper earlier. Don’t take it personally. He’s that sort of man—the tougher you are, the tougher he’ll become. Tomorrow, just swallow your pride a little. There’s a good chance this whole thing will blow over.”
“And that girl—you’ve already brought her all this way. Treat her well. I’ll deliver these, but you should go home and spend time with her whenever you can.”
Song Tingyue nodded.
“I know.”
Li Shungang looked down at the bag in his hands, then watched the broad figure disappear into the darkness.
Who would’ve thought?
The man who was merciless toward himself and terrifyingly strict with his soldiers—the one who always looked like the King of Hell himself—
actually had such a thoughtful, gentle side.