After lunch, Song Tingyue went to the housing office to collect the key to the family quarters that had been assigned to him, then carried their luggage over.
Given his rank, the apartment he’d been allotted had naturally received a bit of special consideration.
The family compound was enclosed by a high wall. Beyond the entrance lay an open parade ground. To the right stood the military commissary, with the bathhouse and public restrooms just beyond it.
Sure enough, just as Song Tingyue had said, the restrooms in the family quarters were much cleaner than the ones by the soldiers’ barracks. Just looking at the building from the outside, she could already tell the difference.
Wen Jianing secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Catching the tiny expression on her face, Song Tingyue added leisurely,
“If it’s too much trouble to come out at night, you can use a chamber pot.”
“They have one in the room?” she asked.
“No. We’ll have to buy one in town.”
He glanced at her.
“We’re going into town tomorrow to register the marriage anyway.”
“…Oh.”
She answered awkwardly.
She had no idea how much a chamber pot cost.
Having never had to manage money on her own, she barely understood the value of everyday things.
A knot formed in her stomach.
Are chamber pots expensive?
It had never even occurred to her to ask such a question before.
When she lived at home, she’d never had to worry about food, clothing, or daily necessities. She’d never known—or cared—how much anything cost.
Before she’d boarded the train, her mother had tucked every last bit of the family’s remaining savings into her suitcase.
Most of their possessions had already been confiscated.
What little money remained would have to last.
After hesitating for a moment, she finally asked,
“Are chamber pots expensive?”
“They’re everyday necessities.” Song Tingyue raised an eyebrow, deliberately sounding surprised.
“How expensive could they be?”
Then, with a hint of teasing, he added,
“Don’t tell me you’re broke.”
“I have money.”
She lifted her chin stubbornly.
“Quite a bit, actually.”
“A camel may be skinny, but it’s still bigger than a horse.”
“Don’t underestimate me.”
As she spoke, her gaze unconsciously drifted toward her suitcase.
It was an odd-looking thing—long and flat. Whenever she carried it herself, it swung back and forth, constantly bumping against her legs.
Yet in Song Tingyue’s hand, it somehow became perfectly obedient.
He carried it with effortless ease.
The sight reminded her of boarding the train.
She’d accidentally bumped into a woman from the textile factory with the suitcase.
The woman had clicked her tongue in annoyance.
“Watch where you’re going! Swinging that leather suitcase around like that!”
Before Wen Jianing even had the chance to apologize, the woman had glanced sideways at the suitcase and loudly complained to her companions.
“You think this is still the old society?”
“I’ve heard only capitalist ladies and rich young misses used these imported things.”
“They strut around draped in mink and fox fur all day, corrupting revolutionary ideals!”
The other woman had strength in numbers.
Wen Jianing might have had a temper, but she wasn’t foolish enough to pick a fight.
Still…
She’d been indignant.
She only owned a few Western dresses.
Most of her wardrobe consisted of qipaos.
And besides—
What was wrong with a leather suitcase?
At that thought, her eyes quietly slid toward Song Tingyue’s waist.
His army-green trousers were fastened with a leather belt.
His shirt was neatly tucked in, emphasizing his lean waist and making his already long legs look even longer.
See that?
He’s wearing leather too!
Why was I the only one they criticized?
If they’ve got the guts, they should go argue with the regimental commander!
Next time anyone dared make fun of her, she’d throw that right back at them and see what they had to say.
Wen Jianing secretly clenched her little fist and let out a tiny, triumphant huff.
“Hmph.”
Song Tingyue looked back at her in confusion.
Now what’s bothering her?
He didn’t ask.
Assuming he’d simply been walking too fast, he quietly slowed his pace.
Further inside stood two neat rows of single-story brick houses with gray-tiled roofs. Some families even had small vegetable gardens planted outside.
Behind them rose a modest two-story building.
Its layout was simple, but it was far nicer than the houses in front.
The single-story homes housed ordinary military families.
The two-story building was reserved for senior officers.
They climbed to the second floor.
This apartment was much brighter than the barracks room she’d seen earlier.
There was even a proper sitting room furnished with a simple sofa.
Sunlight streamed through the clean windows.
A writing desk stood beside one of them, complete with a fountain pen, a burgundy hardcover notebook, and a desk lamp.
The moment Wen Jianing saw them, her little sulkiness vanished.
Like a delighted little sparrow, she darted over, opened the brand-new notebook, and her eyes lit up.
She’d always kept a diary.
This notebook was perfect.
“May I use this?”
She hugged the notebook to her chest before pointing at the pen.
“And this one too?”
When she smiled, her eyes curved into crescents.
Two shallow dimples appeared beside her lips.
She looked unbearably lovely.
The afternoon sunlight slanted through the window, outlining loose strands of her hair in a soft golden glow.
She seemed as though she’d been dipped in honey.
Sweet from head to toe.
Song Tingyue looked at her for two silent seconds.
For a fleeting moment, his thoughts drifted.
It felt as though the little girl who used to trail after him calling “Brother” had come back.
She had smiled at him all the time.
Her eyes would curve into crescents.
The kind of smile that made a person want to pluck every star from the sky and place it in her hands.
But during his final year with the Wen family…
Her smiles had disappeared.
In their place came coldness.
Tantrums.
Endless attempts to make life difficult for him.
She would turn her face away the moment she saw him.
He’d thought…
She would never smile at him again.
“…This apartment was assigned to both of us.”
He looked away, his voice dropping lower.
“Everything in here is yours to use.”
“If you need anything, just tell me.”
“I don’t want Mom and Dad thinking I’ve neglected you.”
With that, he picked up the luggage and headed into the bedroom.
Behind him came the light patter of footsteps.
Wen Jianing trotted after him like a little tail that refused to be shaken off.
She poked her head around curiously, her expressions changing one after another, every emotion written plainly across her face.
The bedroom had been cleaned just as thoroughly.
The floor and windows gleamed without a speck of dust.
Against one wall stood a light wood wardrobe.
Embedded in one of its doors was a full-length mirror.
Wen Jianing was overjoyed.
She was just about to hurry over and admire herself when something bright red reflected in the mirror caught her eye.
A double bed sat against the wall.
It was covered with striped cotton sheets.
Neatly folded on top was a bright red wedding quilt embroidered with a pair of mandarin ducks, squared off with military precision like a perfect block of tofu.
“That quilt was given to me by Aunt Gu.”
Seeing her staring, Song Tingyue explained expressionlessly.
“She’s the wife of Political Commissar Li from headquarters.”
“She’s kindhearted.”
“When she heard I was buying new bedding, she said she had a brand-new set she’d never used and insisted I take it.”
“I didn’t know it had this pattern.”
“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have accepted it.”
“But there’s no sense wasting it.”
“We’ll make do for now.”
His meaning couldn’t have been clearer.
I didn’t choose this.
“Oh.”
Wen Jianing merely nodded at the dazzlingly red wedding quilt.
She hadn’t even thought anything of it.
Did he really need to explain himself so anxiously?
But what came next was even worse.
Song Tingyue opened the wardrobe and pulled out a rolled-up straw sleeping mat he’d already prepared.
With one flick of his arm, it unfurled across the concrete floor at the foot of the bed.
“I usually stay in the soldiers’ barracks.”
“It’ll keep people from getting suspicious.”
“Once in a while, I’ll come here and stay the night.”
He paused before meeting her eyes.
His dark gaze remained calm.
“I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“You don’t mind, do you?”
Now that she was grown, propriety mattered.
Even as her adoptive brother, there were boundaries he had to observe.
They might have shared a bed as children.
They certainly couldn’t now.
But because they had to appear as husband and wife before everyone else, sleeping in separate rooms would only invite suspicion.
This was the only compromise.
Wen Jianing stayed silent for a long time.
Song Tingyue looked up.
The dimples that had appeared only moments ago were gone.
Her lips were pressed into a thin line.
He understood perfectly.
Neither this remote corner of the Northwest—
Nor he himself—
Had ever been what she’d wanted.
If she’d had any other choice…
She never would have boarded that train.
Lowering his eyes, he said quietly,
“Don’t overthink it.”
“This marriage is only temporary.”
“At most, two years.”
“Once this political storm passes, we’ll get divorced.”
“I’ll find a way to send you back to Shanghai.”
“Then I’ll apply through the proper channels and help you get a job.”
“I won’t be staying here in the family quarters very often.”
“Sleeping on the floor is enough.”
“I won’t inconvenience you.”
“I understand.”
Her reply came muffled and subdued.
“You can sleep wherever you like.”
“I don’t mind.”
He just had to keep reminding her—
Again and again—
That it was only a fake marriage.
Now he was a respected regimental commander, admired wherever he went. Tall, broad-shouldered, handsome…
How many women would have gladly married him?
To go this far merely to repay an old debt…
He really had sacrificed a great deal.