“Why aren’t you eating?” she asked, her voice regained a bit of its clarity and softness now that she was no longer famished.
Huo Xiangbei seemed to freeze for a moment before replying, “You eat first. I was worried you wouldn’t have enough, but there’s plenty left in my bowl.”
[My wife looks so beautiful when she eats, taking such tiny, delicate bites.] [Is she full already? She has such a small appetite, just like a kitten.] [She’s so easy to take care of!]
He said this with a flat, neutral tone, his gaze still fixed on her face.
Shen Qianqian felt a sudden, sharp ache in her chest. This man didn’t know how to whisper sweet nothings; all his goodness was clunkily, stubbornly translated into action. He was genuinely, down-to-earth kind to her, putting her needs above all else.
How had she been so blinded and foolish in her past life? Casting aside pearls for common stones, treating genuine devotion as garbage, while cradling the hypocritical calculations of someone who wished her harm?
“I’m full, really.”
She met his eyes, working hard to press down the stinging sensation at the bridge of her nose. “Hurry up and eat. If the noodles sit too long, they’ll turn into mush and won’t taste good.”
Huo Xiangbei let out a simple “Mn,” picked up his own bowl—which had gone slightly cold, the noodles starting to swell—and began to eat in large, hearty mouthfuls.
He didn’t eat in a crude, unrefined way, but he moved with extreme efficiency, possessing the sharp, decisive rhythm characteristic of a soldier. His cheeks puffed out slightly with every chew.
He was genuinely starving. He had spent two days and a night on a train without closing his eyes, and after getting home, he’d spent the better part of the day tangled up with her. Even a man made of iron couldn’t handle that kind of exhaustion. Yet just moments ago, he had held back the entire time, prioritizing her hunger over his own.
Shen Qianqian propped her chin in her hand, watching him quietly.
The remnants of the sunset dancing outside the window played across his chiseled face. His short hair was damp with sweat, and the shadows of his lowered lashes fell across the bridge of his nose.
If this were the old her, would she have secretly curled her lip, looking down on his “lack of table manners” or calling him “crude”?
But now, as she watched him, she felt as if something was filling up the softest part of her heart—leaving it full, aching, and wonderfully warm.
She gazed at him, tracing the clear lines of his brow, the high bridge of his nose, the sharp and resolute line of his jaw. As he ate with his eyes lowered, the thick fringe of his lashes stilled, hiding the sharp, piercing intensity that usually dwelt there.
It was a rugged, indomitable profile carved out by years of field training—hardened lines that weren’t rough, but rather like the edge of a blade after it had been tempered and cooled, leaving only a sense of quiet, stored power.
When he bowed his head to eat, a smooth curve of muscle tightened in his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every swallow. There was an unconscious, raw sensuality to it that made it impossible to look away.
This discovery made Shen Qianqian’s face heat up and her heart race. Was this what they meant by “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”? She pursed her lips to suppress a smile, a delicate, sweet warmth spreading through her chest.
Yet, being bathed in such focused attention made Huo Xiangbei far less calm:
[Did I eat too fast?] [Is my wife looking down on me again because my manners are ugly?] [Why does she keep staring at me? Is there something on my face?] [Or is the sound of me eating noodles too loud?] [Should I slow down? But the noodles are really about to clump together…]
His fingers tightened unconsciously around his chopsticks. The movement of his eating—which had originally flowed with the crisp, efficient rhythm of a marching soldier—suffered a brief, almost imperceptible pause.
Just as he was deep in his internal drama, struggling between maintaining efficiency and keeping up his “image,” Shen Qianqian suddenly reached out. She took the remaining half-bowl of noodles, including the half-finished soft-boiled egg, and gently pushed it toward him on the Kang table.
“I can’t finish this either. You eat it all—don’t let it go to waste.”
She spoke with complete naturalness, as if sharing food between husband and wife was the most mundane thing in the world. In her past life, she would never have given him her leftovers; she would have felt nothing but revulsion.
Huo Xiangbei’s chewing came to a sudden halt.
He looked up at her, his eyes looking exceptionally deep under the lamplight, like ink that could never be thinned. Complex emotions churned within them, though his expression remained that same cold, emotionless mask.
Shen Qianqian “heard” the tiny ripples instantly exploding in his heart:
[Wife gave her noodles to me…] [She must have been worried I wasn’t full, so she saved them specially for me!] [Does my wife… really have a place for me in her heart now?]
However, externally, only his jaw tightened slightly, and his Adam’s apple bobbed once. Then, he gave a light nod, squeezing out a low, curt syllable from his throat: “Mn.”
Without any extra words, he picked up her bowl and very naturally shoveled the remaining noodles and the half-egg into his own bowl, which was already nearly bottomless. He picked it up and kept eating in large bites, cleaning the bowl until not a single drop of broth remained.
It was as if she hadn’t just given him food, but some extraordinary, priceless prize that required his utmost respect.
Shen Qianqian: “…”
The overflowing感動 (emotion), bitterness, and heartache in her heart were all stifled by his “Mn” of a response. She was left feeling a mix of helpless laughter and a soft, limp feeling of frustration.
This man and that mouth of his…
If it weren’t for that handsome face, the imposing air added by his crisp military uniform, and his stubborn, pig-headed dedication, he’d likely have stayed a bachelor for life. Of course, after she had left him in her past life, that was exactly how he had spent the rest of his days.
Thinking of that, her sense of helplessness melted into a thick, syrupy sweetness.
Oh, and there was also that tireless, ox-like stamina of his…
As that thought inadvertently slipped into her mind, the heat that had just faded from her face suddenly came rushing back.
Huo Xiangbei finished quickly, efficiently clearing the two empty bowls and chopsticks, and dashed to the kitchen to rinse them clean.
When he returned, he saw Shen Qianqian still sitting on the Kang, her head slightly lowered, her fingers unconsciously plucking at the hem of her clothes. The light cast a fan-shaped shadow of her long lashes against her skin, and she sat so quietly she looked like a painting.
“If you’re tired, lie down and rest.”
He walked to the edge of the Kang. His voice was lower and softer than before, laced with a rasp and an imperceptible hint of nervousness. He stood before her, his tall, broad frame practically swallowing her up, bringing with it a powerful sense of presence, yet his eyes cautiously observed the expression on her face.
“This time, I won’t touch you!”
He added that final sentence with a slightly stiff tone, as if it were a guarantee—and a reminder to himself.
[Can’t touch her. Her body can’t take it; I have to hold back.] [Just being able to hold my wife while I sleep is enough!] [Will she let me hold her?]
Shen Qianqian looked up at him.
“Huo Xiangbei!”
She spoke suddenly, her voice light, yet carrying an unprecedented clarity and resolve. “Next time you return, I’m coming with you to the base…”
She said the words “coming with you” softly, but clearly enough.
Huo Xiangbei froze in place, his hand gripping the edge of the Kang tightening unconsciously. His voice dropped as he asked, “…Are you serious?”
“More serious than real gold.”
“Xiangbei, I was the one who treated you poorly in the past, but I promise you: there was never anything romantic or inappropriate between me and Xu Yanqing. It was completely innocent. I have… always been yours…”
She hadn’t finished speaking when she was met with a sudden, bone-crushing, near-suffocating embrace.
Huo Xiangbei pulled her tightly into his arms, resting his chin on the crown of her head, his breathing ragged, his chest rising and falling in violent swells.
After a long while, he finally loosened his hold slightly, though his arms remained wrapped around her. He bowed his head, looking into her moist eyes. “Qianqian, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I believe you. Let’s live a good life together from now on!”
He paused, his tone filled with uncontrollable joy. “I already applied for a spot in the dependent quarters. It’s a detached house; I know you like your quiet. I’ll tidy it up and buy the furniture the moment I go back. Next time I’m on leave, I’m coming straight back to pick you up!”
The moment the words left his lips, his heart was in complete turmoil:
[My wife is actually coming to live with me on base!] [Am I dreaming!!] [I have to let those boys in the unit see how beautiful my wife is…] [I need to plant more flowers in the yard; she’ll definitely like that.]
Shen Qianqian leaned into his chest, listening to the steady, powerful rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling this clumsy yet scorching warmth.
Her heart, which had been drifting for two lifetimes, finally felt a heavy, grounded sense of peace.