As the boisterous crowd dispersed, the little Yang courtyard was swept clean by the helping villagers, leaving only the four elders behind.
Qiaoqiao’s father picked up his hoe, preparing to head down to the fields, but Grandma stopped him. “Don’t go. Take the day off.”
Without a word, Qiaoqiao’s father shouldered his hoe and walked out anyway.
Qiaoqiao’s mother sighed, “His heart is hurting. Let him go—exerting some physical effort will make him feel a little better.”
With that, she slipped into the kitchen. Even though it had already been meticulously tidied, she couldn’t help finding chores to keep herself busy.
The distance from Dashui Village to the urban district was fifty kilometers, and from the district to the military compound another dozen or so. The roads were riddled with bumps and potholes, and the journey was expected to take three hours.
Qiaoqiao had never set foot in the city, nor had she ever ridden in a jeep.
After jouncing and swaying for just over ten kilometers, Qiaoqiao’s stomach began to churn violently. She clenched her teeth and endured it—on her wedding day, throwing up in the car wouldn’t look good, would it?
Yang Zheng noticed something was wrong and asked, “Qiao-mei, are you carsick?”
Qiaoqiao waved her hand, signaling that she was fine. She didn’t dare open her mouth, terrified she would throw up right then and there.
“Driver, stop the car! My sister is carsick. Let her get out and clear her stomach,” Yang Zheng told the soldier driving without a second thought.
The vehicle pulled over. Yang Zheng hurried out and opened the door for his sister. Unable to hold it in a second longer, Qiaoqiao bolted to the roadside and vomited uncontrollably.
The vehicle behind them stopped as well. Luo Meiyun hurried over with a water canteen. “Are you carsick? It’s all my fault for not thinking it through—I should have prepared some motion-sickness medicine.”
No one uttered a word of blame; no one rushed her. Once Qiaoqiao finished vomiting, Luo Meiyun wiped her mouth for her and handed her water to drink.
The young soldier driving handed Qiaoqiao a plastic bag. “Sister-in-law, if you can’t hold it back next time, just throw up in the bag.”
Along the winding road, they stopped and started repeatedly, and Qiaoqiao threw up several more times. By the time they reached the military dependents’ compound, it was already seven o’clock in the evening.
Qiaoqiao felt terribly guilty, but Luo Meiyun waved it off dismissively. “It’s fine. Carsickness is worse than being sick in bed. After you ride in cars a few more times, you’ll stop getting sick.”
Zhou Zhonghai’s residence was a detached cadre courtyard—a row of houses with plenty of vacant, overgrown land right out front.
Qiaoqiao’s very first thought was: Such good land, completely wasted. Why aren’t they growing vegetables?
Several of Zhou Zhonghai’s comrades and friends were waiting in the compound. Seeing the bride arrive, they eagerly set off a string of firecrackers.
Zhou Zhonghai had drunk too much alcohol and slept through the entire ride.
Stumbling as he stepped out of the car, he waved his hand and slurred, “Thank you, everyone… The mess hall has prepared a banquet, drink up…”
Before he could finish, he looked like he was about to throw up.
“Division Commander Zhou, it’s a joyous day—we have to drink!”
“Drink! We won’t stop until we’re blind drunk!”
Qiaoqiao and Yang Zheng followed Luo Meiyun inside. Such a huge house! The living room alone was larger than both of the rooms in Qiaoqiao’s home combined.
Luo Meiyun led Qiaoqiao into the bridal chamber and said gently, “I’ll go pour you some water.”
Yang Zheng quickly interjected, “Auntie, there are guests outside. Let me do it.”
Luo Meiyun smiled. “They’re your uncle’s guests; he’s out there entertaining them. My only job is to keep Qiaoqiao company. There’s a banquet at the mess hall, but you and Qiaoqiao won’t be going. We’ll eat right here at home.”
“Yes, Auntie.”
Yang Zheng held a deep fondness for Zhou Zhonghai and Luo Meiyun. They were reasonable and understanding; his sister certainly wouldn’t have to suffer under her mother-in-law.
Yet… where was his new brother-in-law?
Outside the study at the western end of the house, Luo Meiyun knocked softly. “Wenhui, open the door.”
Absolute silence from within.
“Wenhui, Qiaoqiao is here. Open the door and go meet her.”
Still nothing.
“Wenhui, your father and I discussed this marriage with you beforehand, and you agreed. Now that the bride is here, refusing even to see her—what kind of behavior is that?” Luo Meiyun was caught in a dilemma, not daring to use harsh words.
After a long while, the door finally unlocked. An unsmiling, handsome young man sat in a wheelchair, his voice flat. “Is dinner ready? I’m hungry.”
Luo Meiyun brightened instantly. “It’ll be ready right away—Chef Li from the mess hall came over specially to cook for us. Wenhui, let’s go say hello to Qiaoqiao and her brother first.”
Seeing that Wenhui didn’t refuse, Luo Meiyun hurried forward to push the wheelchair.
Walking down the corridor and entering the bridal chamber, Qiaoqiao and Yang Zheng both stood up.
This was Zhou Wenhui. He was a shade darker and looked more melancholy than in his photograph, yet he still retained the unyielding toughness and stern edge of a soldier.
He wore a white shirt, with a military-issue wool blanket draped over his legs.
Luo Meiyun hurriedly made the introductions. “Wenhui, this is Qiaoqiao.”
Zhou Wenhui swept a fleeting glance over her. Luo Meiyun added, “And this is Qiaoqiao’s brother, Yang Zheng.”
Qiaoqiao stood frozen and at a loss, but Yang Zheng stepped forward, extended his right hand, and said openly, “Zhou Wenhui, hello.”
Zhou Wenhui ignored the outstretched hand, his tone indifferent. “Let’s eat.”
Without a word of acknowledgment, he swiveled his hands on the wheels and headed straight for the dining room.
Luo Meiyun offered an embarrassed, awkward laugh. “Sorry… once you get used to him, he’s fine.”
Qiaoqiao buried her head deep into her chest, while a bitter ache stabbed at Yang Zheng’s heart. Zhou Wenhui was proving far harder to deal with than his parents—how was his sister supposed to survive life here?
“Come on, let’s go eat! You’ve both been working hard all day, and with Qiaoqiao carsick the whole way, she must have been starving for hours,” Luo Meiyun coaxed with a warm smile.
Yang Zheng grabbed Qiaoqiao’s hand, squeezing it tightly to give her courage.
Chef Li from the mess hall had prepared a table full of dishes before heading back.
Zhou Zhonghai was dining with his comrades at the mess hall, leaving only the four of them in the house.
“Sit down, Qiaoqiao, Yang Zheng. No outsiders here, make yourselves at home.”
Luo Meiyun acted as the social glue of the household; without her, the three of them could have carved a three-bedroom apartment out of the awkward silence in the kitchen.
Without any excessive courtesy, Zhou Wenhui picked up his bowl and started eating.
Luo Meiyun kept piling food into Yang Zheng and Qiaoqiao’s bowls, but neither of them had any appetite.
“Yang Zheng, tomorrow your uncle will send a car to take you to the machinery plant. Quilt rolls and toiletries are provided by the factory, but if you find yourself lacking anything, just tell your uncle.”
Luo Meiyun skillfully steered the conversation elsewhere. Yang Zheng forced a smile. “Thank you, Auntie.”
He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay and keep his sister company for a few more days, but staying seemed only to add to the awkwardness without actually helping her.
“When you have time off work, take the Route 51 bus—it goes straight to the military dependents’ residential area. Come visit Qiaoqiao.”
“Okay.”
Before they had exchanged a few sentences, Zhou Wenhui put down his bowl and chopsticks. “You guys take your time eating.”
Luo Meiyun froze for a second. Qiaoqiao quickly dropped her own bowl, stood up, and said, “I’ll push you back to your room.”
Zhou Wenhui didn’t refuse, and Qiaoqiao wheeled him out of the room.
Luo Meiyun beamed with delight. I wasn’t wrong about her—I wasn’t wrong at all. Qiaoqiao is such a sensible, perceptive child.
Yang Zheng shoveled rice into his mouth mechanically, fighting back the tears stinging his eyes.
The Zhou family’s home was a single straight row of rooms, and Qiaoqiao had no idea where she was going. She asked softly, “Which room is yours?”
“Third door down the corridor.”
Passing through the living room and entering the hallway, they reached the third door.
Pushing Zhou Wenhui inside, she saw that the room was lined floor-to-ceiling with books.
“You—why do you have so many books?” Qiaoqiao asked in astonishment.
“What else is there for me to do besides read?” Zhou Wenhui replied coldly.
Qiaoqiao pulled back her gaze and asked, “Do you need to use the restroom?”
“No.”
“Do you want to lie down on the bed?”
“No.”
“Do you have any books on machinery? My brother likes reading them,” Qiaoqiao continued.
Zhou Wenhui paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, before pointing to the top of the bookshelf. “The machinery books are up there. If you like them, you can take them.”
“No, I’ll just take one or two.”
Without standing on ceremony, Qiaoqiao dragged over a stool, opened the bookshelf, scanned the titles carefully, and pulled out two volumes: Fundamentals of Mechanical Design and Principles of Metal Cutting and Tool Design.
She had no idea if these matched her brother’s exact specialization, but she figured she’d start with these two.
Closing the bookshelf securely and putting the stool back in its place, Qiaoqiao said, “My brother will return these to you later.”
Zhou Wenhui didn’t say a word.
“Then I’ll head out first.”
Again, Zhou Wenhui said nothing. Qiaoqiao clutched the books tightly, stepped out of the room, and gently pulled the door shut behind her.