Chapter 5

After completing the hiring formalities, Song Nian learned from nearby workers why Xu Jin had appeared at the Red Flag Garment Factory.

The factory had been assigned the task of redesigning military uniforms. Because it involved military supplies, the army had stationed a representative there—and Xu Jin happened to be that very representative.

She hadn’t known beforehand, and never expected to end up in the same place as him.

When she returned to the Xu residence, she saw that Xu Jin—who had come home late the past two nights—was already there. Remembering how he had pretended not to know her at the factory earlier, she worried he might oppose her working at Red Flag.

During dinner, her mother-in-law Xue Suwan asked about the interview. Song Nian sneaked a glance at Xu Jin before softly replying that she had been hired.

“In the sewing workshop at Red Flag Garment Factory.”

Xue Suwan frowned. “A seamstress?”

Song Nian’s heart tightened even more.

She knew that given the Xu family’s status, working as a factory seamstress might sound unbecoming. Her worry grew heavier.

After a moment’s hesitation, she explained, “I was privately tutored before and don’t have a diploma. I couldn’t find a more suitable job on short notice.”

Thinking of the Xu family’s values, she cautiously added, “We’re all contributing to socialism. There’s no distinction between high and low in work.”

The truth was, she simply needed to earn money quickly to send to her parents. Nothing else mattered.

Compared to having Xu Jin arrange something for her, she much preferred to earn her keep with her own hands.

Xue Suwan chuckled. “Even a little capitalist like you knows how to contribute to socialism?”

Setting her chopsticks down, she said, “Your grandfather-in-law also came from hardship. Why would we think factory work beneath you? Just… don’t lose sight of the bigger picture. Don’t get so busy with work that you forget the other important matters.”

Her words were layered with meaning. Song Nian immediately understood: she was reminding her not to forget about producing an heir.

“I—I won’t,” Song Nian stammered, her cheeks burning.

“That’s good.”

Xue Suwan dabbed her lips with a napkin and rose. “It’s late. You two newlyweds should spend time together. I’ll go rest.”

Aunt Zhou came to clear the dishes. Xu Jin stood. “I have some things to handle upstairs. If you need me, come to the study.”

Song Nian murmured assent, watching him go. He hadn’t objected to her working at Red Flag—but since she was living under his roof, having entered the Xu family by insistence, she felt she needed clear assurance.

That night, when Xu Jin returned to their room after finishing his work, Song Nian immediately put her book down and looked up at him. He paused, holding his pajamas. “Something on your mind?”

She nodded, straightforward. “I wanted to ask—about me working at Red Flag. What do you think?”

Xu Jin set down his clothes and walked closer, puzzled. “What do you mean, what do I think?”

“I mean, will you oppose it?”

“Why would I oppose it?”

She bit her lip. “In the day you acted as though you didn’t know me. I thought… maybe you weren’t happy about me working there.”

Only then did Xu Jin recall their encounter at the factory.

Looking at the delicate young woman before him, her long hair tumbling around her face as she gazed up with anxious eyes, he surprised himself with the patience to explain: “I don’t like mixing public and private. At home, you’re my wife. At the factory, I’m the military representative. We shouldn’t have contact there.”

So that was it!

Song Nian’s tension eased instantly, her lips curving faintly. “I thought you disdained me for being a factory worker, that it wasn’t dignified enough.”

Xu Jin frowned. “The working class is the backbone of socialist construction. What’s undignified about that? That’s capitalist nonsense.”

Song Nian: …

She coughed lightly. “Right… I was overthinking.”

Xu Jin picked up his pajamas and headed to the bathroom. “I won’t be long.”

Song Nian: …

What was that supposed to mean?

He meant it literally—he was quick. After a brisk soldier’s shower, he came back, damp with the scent of pine and cold air, while Song Nian was already in bed with the lamp left on.

When he got in, the mattress dipped on his side. She caught the familiar chill of his presence.

Then, suddenly, a hand reached over and turned her toward him—

His body pressed over hers, solid and burning. Song Nian bit her lip, unable to hold back. “Could you… not be so direct every time…?”

Her eyes darted away. “It’s… uncomfortable.”

It was mainly painful.

Xu Jin hadn’t expected such blunt words.

Uncomfortable?!

For some reason, his throat tightened.

His voice was low. “Our sharing a bed is for the sake of continuing the family line. Don’t fill your head with those decadent, bourgeois notions!”

Song Nian: …

She turned her head away and fell silent.

But her words lingered in his ears. His breathing grew heavy, uneven… He told himself it was anger.

He had been clear from the start: this marriage was an arrangement. He gave her protection; she bore heirs for the Xu family. Yet she dared to make such requests, utterly lacking restraint.

Anger made his movements rougher. He gripped her thigh with calloused fingers—accustomed to holding a gun, his touch grew almost harsh.

Still, he restrained himself, making no unnecessary detours, going straight to the point as he had the night before.

Song Nian shut her eyes, tense, nearly shadowed by last night’s pain.

But as the heat surged, a tremor coursed through her—then she remembered her monthly time was near. Her body always grew more sensitive then. Looking up at Xu Jin’s austere face, shadowed with restrained desire, she felt herself dissolve beneath just his touch. Tonight was different; it wasn’t the same torment as before.

Xu Jin sensed it too, the difference from the night before. Yet he refused to dwell on it, telling himself only that tonight he wouldn’t be so quick.

A man seasoned by war, Xu Jin had mastery over himself. And indeed, he didn’t fall apart as instantly as their first time.

But the onslaught of desire, like decadent corruption, pressed in with unrelenting force. His jaw clenched, his breath ragged—then he heard her let out a faint whimper.

Just one sound—and immediately his hand at her waist tightened, his motions halting. Meeting his deep, forbidding gaze, Song Nian quickly bit her lip and swallowed the sound.

He seemed to dislike her making noise…

So she endured in silence, telling herself thankfully it would be over soon. But clearly, last night was no reference point.

Her vision whitened, her mind blurred, until finally it was over.

Xu Jin released her and withdrew to his side of the bed, his breath still uneven.

Song Nian lay unmoving, utterly spent. Then his voice came: “Go wash up.”

She had thought he would go first.

But remembering his brisk, soldierly ways, she could only sigh and drag herself up.

Thankfully, she was still in her nightdress. Tugging it down, she hastily grabbed her undergarment, then, feeling the dampness below, she crept awkwardly off the bed from the foot and all but fled into the bathroom.

Once the door shut, Xu Jin opened his eyes. Slowly, he sat up.

His face was taut as he glanced down at himself.

Never one for indulgence or excess, never one to repeat like some lecher, he nonetheless refused to let her see the unsightly state of his body. That was why he had sent her away.

Song Nian washed quickly, straightened herself, and returned to find the bedsheet already changed.

Meeting her gaze, Xu Jin stiffened faintly, then covered it by saying, “The sheet was wet, so I replaced it.”

In an instant, Song Nian’s face flamed scarlet. Mortified, she shot him a glare, then climbed wordlessly back into bed, turning her back to him, still and silent.