When Wen Jianing had eaten only half an apricot, she lost her appetite. She set the rest on the bedside table and curled bonelessly beneath the quilt.
The exhaustion from days of travel seemed to seep into every joint and bone.
She couldn’t remember when she’d fallen asleep. She only knew she slept poorly, drifting in and out of strange, fragmented dreams.
In one dream, she became a little bird.
She flew back to her old home in Shanghai, only to find it in complete ruin. Official seals and confiscation notices covered every door. Even her parents’ faces were plastered over with paper seals. Accusations and curses came from every direction. Fingers pointed at them. People shoved them.
Wen Jianing wanted to scream.
She wanted to rush forward and shield them.
But the dream shifted.
Suddenly she was somewhere unfamiliar—a barren land where sandstorms raged and the scorching sun hung overhead like a furnace.
She was unbearably thirsty. She searched desperately for water, but there wasn’t a single drop to be found. Her steps grew heavier and heavier until, completely drained, she collapsed onto the burning sand, her vision blurring.
Then, through the haze, a pair of military boots appeared before her.
Using the last of her strength, she looked up.
The man stood against the light, tall and straight as a blade. Beneath the brim of his cap, his handsome features were cold and unreadable as he looked down at her from above.
“…Brother…”
Ignoring her desperate plea, he turned without hesitation and walked away.
Only a trail of deep footprints remained in the scorching sand.
“Brother… Brother!”
She called after him more and more frantically, but there was no answer.
Just as despair was about to swallow her whole, a deep, steady voice suddenly wrapped around her.
“I’m here, Ningning. I’m sorry… Your brother came too late.”
“Be good, Ningning. Don’t cry anymore.”
On the bed, the pair of hands clutching the blanket helplessly were gently enclosed within a man’s broad palms.
Song Tingyue lifted her out of the quilt.
She had gone limp like water. An unhealthy flush burned across her face, and her body was frighteningly hot. Sweat-dampened hair clung to her neck, and even her clothes were slightly wet.
Watching from the side, Gu Lan was full of guilt.
“It must’ve been because she waited until everyone else had finished bathing. By then the water had gone cold. Then she walked back in the night wind—that’s why the fever came on so suddenly. This is all my fault. I forgot to remind her how drastic the temperature difference is here between day and night. She should’ve worn another layer before going out.”
Then she shot Song Tingyue a reproachful look.
“And you! Your wife’s only been here one day, yet you wouldn’t even stay with her at the family quarters for a few nights. If you had, how could she have run a fever all night? High fevers are dangerous! My uncle’s boy burned his brain with one when he was little.”
The more Gu Lan spoke, the more anxious she became.
That morning she’d cooked some congee and wanted Wen Jianing to join her. She’d knocked for ages and called several times without getting any response. Only then had she realized something was wrong and hurried to the military service office to phone the regiment headquarters.
Fortunately, Song Tingyue had arrived quickly.
He had always been decisive.
While Gu Lan spent those two minutes scolding him, he had already slipped shoes and socks onto the unconscious girl, scooped her effortlessly into his arms, and pulled his olive-green military jacket over her head to shield her.
Outside, the sun was merciless. Fierce winds carried clouds of yellow sand.
Gu Lan’s words made Song Tingyue’s heart sink lower with every sentence.
Only now did he realize with absolute clarity—
No matter how Wen Jianing treated him… whether she disliked him or even hated him…
No matter how many years had passed…
She would always be the most precious person in his heart.
His little sister.
The one he treasured above all else.
“Thank you, Aunt Gu. I’ll take her to the clinic.”
Leaving those words behind, Song Tingyue strode out.
Only then did Gu Lan notice the dark circles beneath his eyes. A bruised gash marked his forehead, with dried blood still clinging around it.
What had happened to him?
All the words of reproach caught in her throat.
Military District Clinic
By the time Song Tingyue carried her into the clinic, he was breathing heavily, though his stride remained remarkably steady. He kept her cradled securely, careful not to jostle her too much.
Even so, the girl was uncomfortable.
Half-conscious, her eyes fluttered open. Their corners were tinged red as she whimpered weakly in his arms.
“…I feel awful… Stop shaking me… I’m going to throw up…”
As she complained, she rubbed her burning face against his chest. Her brows knitted together miserably, making the redness at the corners of her eyes look even more pitiful.
Looking down, Song Tingyue saw that his military jacket—used to shield her from the blowing sand—had wrapped her fluffy head completely, leaving only her chin and slightly pouting lips exposed. Hidden beneath the shadow of the jacket, her almond-shaped eyes shimmered with moisture, looking as though she’d suffered the greatest injustice in the world.
His footsteps slowed.
Like soothing a child, he murmured softly,
“Be good. Once the doctor sees you, you’ll feel better.”
One second he was speaking with infinite patience.
The next—
Bang!
He kicked open the consultation room door.
The crash startled Xu Kaicheng so badly that the half-eaten boiled egg he’d just stuffed into his mouth nearly lodged in his throat.
He thumped his chest twice before looking up.
A tall, imposing figure stood in the doorway, carrying what looked like a bundle wrapped in an army-green jacket.
“Take a look at my wife. Her fever’s really high.”
Song Tingyue strode in. Even though there was an examination bed right there, he couldn’t bear to lay her down, continuing to hold her in his arms instead.
Only two words crossed Xu Kaicheng’s mind.
A rare sight.
Throughout the entire military district, no one was tougher than Song Tingyue.
He never came to the clinic for minor cuts or illnesses. A little iodine and some medicine in the barracks usually settled everything. Serious injuries went straight to the county hospital.
Although they were close friends, they rarely crossed paths during work hours.
Afraid she’d overheat beneath the jacket, Song Tingyue sat on a nearby chair with her resting sideways on his lap. He removed the dust-covered jacket and tossed it onto the chair behind him.
He touched her forehead again.
Still burning hot.
“What happened? She’s only been here one day and she’s already sick? Not used to the climate?” Xu Kaicheng swallowed the last of his egg with a drink of water before finally getting a clear look at the girl’s face.
So the rumors yesterday hadn’t been exaggerating.
She really was beautiful.
Setting aside his curiosity over where Song Tingyue had suddenly found himself a wife, he fetched a mercury thermometer.
“Let’s take her temperature first.”
By then, Wen Jianing had drifted back to sleep.
But her lips were pressed tightly together, refusing to part no matter what.
Xu Kaicheng tried twice.
The thermometer simply wouldn’t go in.
Without warning, Song Tingyue snatched it from his hand and shot him a sharp glare.
“Can you be gentler? What are you doing, picking a damn lock?”
Xu Kaicheng stared at him in disbelief.
When had I used any force?
“Fine, you do it then. You’re the one who kicked my door in, and now you’re blaming the doctor? The force I used isn’t one ten-thousandth of that kick you just gave.”
Song Tingyue tried several times himself without success.
He soon realized it wasn’t just her lips.
Her teeth were clenched tightly together too, as though she were stubbornly struggling against something in her dream.
For the first time ever, Xu Kaicheng saw Song Tingyue looking completely helpless.
Every movement was extraordinarily careful, as if he were afraid of damaging some priceless treasure.
If it had been anyone else, Song Tingyue would’ve simply grabbed their jaw and forced their mouth open.
Unable to watch any longer, Xu Kaicheng finally said,
“Stop wasting your time. Put it under her arm.”
That had been Song Tingyue’s thought as well.
Seeing Xu Kaicheng still standing there, he shot him a look that plainly told him to get out.
“Understood, Commander. Your humble servant will leave immediately.”
Rubbing his nose, Xu Kaicheng tactfully slipped out of the room.
The nights were cold, so Wen Jianing had worn a long-sleeved Soviet-style plaid dress as her nightgown.
Had it been short sleeves, he could’ve slipped the thermometer beneath her arm directly.
With long sleeves, he’d have to lower one shoulder first.
Song Tingyue rested her head against his chest, his chin lightly touching the top of her hair, and reached for the zipper.
For some inexplicable reason, the moment his fingers touched the zipper pull, his hand trembled.
Pull yourself together, he silently cursed himself.
You’ve bathed her and changed her diapers before. All you’re doing now is exposing her shoulder enough to take her temperature. Why are you hesitating like this?
Steeling himself, he pulled the zipper down.
Only a short distance.
Just enough to ease the fabric off one shoulder.
Then he stopped immediately.
His Adam’s apple bobbed unconsciously.
Though he deliberately kept his gaze averted, the edge of his vision still caught sight of her.
The small patch of shoulder revealed beneath the loosened fabric was smooth and luminous, white as fine porcelain.
A narrow white bra strap rested delicately against her shoulder. Beneath the fallen fabric, the edge of the undergarment was faintly visible, outlining a soft, feminine curve that rose and fell gently with her uneasy breathing.
It struck Song Tingyue all at once.
The little girl he remembered…
Had truly grown into a young woman.
His fingers stiffened for a heartbeat.
The veins on the back of his hand twitched faintly.
Then, almost clumsily, he slid the thermometer beneath her arm, gently secured her soft arm in place, and immediately turned his head away.
Fixing his eyes firmly on the clock hanging on the wall—
He began counting the time.