Chapter 8

Not long after, the sound of a jeep came from outside. He Wenyan quickly went out to greet it. Through the window, she could be seen talking to the orderly who was driving. The other party, being perceptive, did not wish to disturb the commander’s family. After a polite salute, he left.

Unlike her usual stern demeanor, He Wenyan wore a slightly bashful smile, one that carried a trace of newlywed shyness, when facing Yan Weiguo, the male lead’s father. In the novel, she had been married into the family for less than a year. Since Yan Weiguo had been reinstated to his position, he had been busy with work, leaving them little time to spend together.

As she followed him inside, speaking attentively, Yan Weiguo remained composed, even somewhat distant.

Yan Weiguo had a righteous appearance and an air of steadiness and authority. While he wasn’t as stunningly handsome as his son, he had certainly been a striking man in his youth, with thick eyebrows and deep-set eyes. Given that the male lead’s sculpted features and distinguished demeanor seemed to come more from his mother, it suggested that Yan Weiguo’s first wife must have been an exceptional beauty.

When He Wenyan introduced Wen Xin, Yan Weiguo showed no displeasure toward her despite the past conflicts involving the Wen family. He displayed no negative expression whatsoever. Instead, he inquired gently about her studies and life, demonstrating the broad-minded grace befitting someone in his position.

As soon as he turned away, He Wenyan shot Wen Xin a look, signaling her to quickly serve the food, while she herself stepped forward to attentively help Yan Weiguo out of his military uniform.

Wen Xin plated the dishes she had prepared and carried them to the dining table in the main hall. At this time, people were still recovering from the turmoil. Having enough to eat, let alone something tasty, was already fortunate—presentation was hardly a concern.

But Wen Xin was from modern times, where food was expected to appeal in color, aroma, and taste. Naturally, she put effort into making the dishes look appetizing.

The expectations He Wenyan had for a nanny in the novel were indeed a bit excessive. After all, a nanny was not a professional chef.

However, to Wen Xin, these demands were manageable. In an era of information explosion, everyone was somewhat of a health expert. With her system, extracting high-quality food ingredients was effortless. Additionally, as a performing arts student, she was conscious of her figure and skincare, often preparing balanced meals. So, He Wenyan’s requirements weren’t too much for her to handle.

She placed the fish head soup in the center of the table, a small plate of sweet and sour pork ribs beside it, along with a hearty family-style stew. The cat-ear pastries were for Yan Miaomiao, and there were also two plates of fresh greens, which she had seasoned with the purest extracted sea salt. Each grain was as clear as a gemstone, making the soup exceptionally flavorful. Sometimes, she even used this sea salt in spring water to soak facial masks—far more effective than many hydrating masks.

She tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear. Just as she finished arranging the greens and was about to bring them out, loud voices from the living room caught her attention.

“Yan Zeyang, comrade! You must not misplace your tactics! You need to consider the bigger picture and stop prioritizing personal grudges above all else!”

Whatever had been said before, it was enough to make Yan Weiguo slam the table. The fact that he had called his own son “comrade” indicated how truly displeased he was.

At some point, Yan Zeyang had come downstairs and was now seated across from his father, back straight, his expression cold and aloof.

“You two can’t be arguing the moment you see each other. It’s rare for the family to gather—come, sit and eat. Wen Xin!” Seeing the tense atmosphere, He Wenyan attempted to smooth things over and called out toward the kitchen.

This was definitely not a good time for her to step out. Being used as a buffer in this situation? Wen Xin was reluctant but had no choice but to respond and, after some hesitation, carried the dishes out.

“…You may be able to make peace with our enemies, smile and move on—I can’t. If I don’t put a bullet in them, that’s already being civil.”

“Reckless! That mindset is extremely dangerous! I won’t force you to coexist with them, but you cannot act in the shadows. This is a serious ideological issue!” Yan Weiguo’s expression was grave as he addressed his only son.

“I’m merely repaying them tenfold for what they did to us back then. You may be able to remarry after losing your wife, but I will never forget how my mother died!”

“You—!”

Just then, Wen Xin walked in, causing Yan Weiguo to cut himself off mid-sentence. The atmosphere was chillingly tense, and even He Wenyan, standing beside them, didn’t dare to interject.

Had Yan Weiguo’s first wife still been alive, she might have been able to mediate between them. After all, she was both a deeply loved wife and a devoted mother—someone who could ease their conflict with just a few words.

But He Wenyan could never play that role. To Yan Weiguo, she was simply a necessary political partner, and to Yan Zeyang, she was nothing more than a woman who had taken advantage of his father’s vulnerability.

He Wenyan was well aware of her position. Wen Xin, having watched plenty of dramas in acting school, could also grasp the undercurrents at play.

Here was a proud and intense son, covertly retaliating against his enemies. And here was a father who, despite his personal feelings, prioritized the nation and long-term stability. Politics wasn’t a simple matter—every move had broader consequences.

One sought vengeance for his mother and resented his father for remarrying. He saw no fault in his actions.

The other feared his son would become too radical and lose himself.

Wen Xin thought about the novel’s eventual outcome. In the end, the male lead’s father would rise to a high position. As long as the male lead didn’t go too far, dealing with a few minor enemies wouldn’t be a problem.

Besides, she suspected that Yan Weiguo wasn’t without resentment. He simply suppressed it, unwilling to let emotions interfere with greater objectives. His son’s actions might even bring him some satisfaction, though he would inevitably have to step in and cover things up.

Carefully, Wen Xin set the plates down on the table.

By then, Yan Weiguo had regained his composure. Nodding at Wen Xin, he said in a calm voice, “The meal looks plentiful. Comrade Xiao Wen, thank you for your hard work. Sit down and eat with us.”

Just as Wen Xin was about to respond—

Across from her, Yan Zeyang suddenly stood up, his thin lips pressed into a tight line. His gaze, sharp as a blade, first fell upon He Wenyan, then swept briefly over Wen Xin. With icy disdain, he sneered,

“The Yan family’s dining table—so now even strays and mongrels can sit at it? I’d rather not eat at all.”

Wen Xin was startled—why had their argument suddenly turned on her? Sure, the parents of the supporting female character she was now playing had wronged the Yan family, but she herself was innocent!

At a time like this, she definitely didn’t want to be dragged into Yan Zeyang’s anger. She quickly spoke up, “No need, Uncle Yan. There are still things to clean up in the kitchen. I’ll go take care of them first.” Without waiting for a response, she swiftly walked away.

“Sit down! Finish your meal first, then come to my study.” Yan Weiguo’s commanding tone left no room for argument. He picked up his bowl, signaling that the conversation was over. No one brought up the matter again at the dinner table.

…

In the kitchen, Wen Xin tidied up absentmindedly, feeling frustrated. Why was she putting up with all this? She grumpily scooped half a bowl of rice, poured some broth over it, and sat down, absentmindedly poking at the bottom of her bowl with her spoon. Since coming to this world, she had no place to go, no money, no ration tickets, and no proof of identity. What was she supposed to do?

Storming off sounded appealing, but going back to the Wen family wasn’t an option either.

After mulling it over, she decided to endure the humiliation for now—at least until she figured out a way to get some money and ration tickets, and resolve the issue of her identity papers. Once that was settled, even if they begged her, she wouldn’t stick around!

Thinking this way made her feel a little better. She took a bite of food, savoring the warm, comforting taste, then poured herself a glass of water from the system, adding a couple of drops of natural fruit oil. The fragrant aroma filled her senses—it was much better than regular fruit juice, though not as sweet.

Earlier, perhaps sensing the tense atmosphere, He Wenyan hadn’t called Yan Miaomiao to dinner right away. It wasn’t until they were already eating that the little girl climbed onto her chair.

Although the mood was stiff, the meal itself was not wasted. When Wen Xin cleared the table, the dishes were wiped clean—especially by the very person who had just called her “strays and mongrels.” He had even eaten the last of Yan Miaomiao’s sweet pastries.

She rolled her eyes at the thought. Just then, she heard the sound of a door slamming from the study.

…

By the time she finished cleaning up and returned to her room to set up her bedding, it was already past nine. Yan Weiguo and He Wenyan had both washed up and gone to bed, so she took the chance to head to the bathroom.

At this time, having an indoor bathroom was already considered a luxury—most people had to use public facilities. However, there was no proper shower, so she had to heat water manually, mix it to the right temperature, and slowly pour it over herself using a scoop.

Completely manual.

After much effort, she finally managed to take a decent bath. She massaged essential oils into her skin for maintenance, paying extra attention to delicate areas like her face. Then she pulled out a nightgown from her suitcase, threw on an extra layer, and, with her damp hair draping over her shoulders, tiptoed out of the bathroom, heading back to her room.

Just as she was about to turn off the light, she heard someone coming downstairs.

Yan Zeyang had come down for a drink of water. As he looked up, he saw a figure standing in the dimly lit living room. She was wearing some kind of dress, her pale legs exposed beneath the hem. Her freshly washed hair cascaded over her shoulders, looking even darker and shinier due to the dampness. Her delicate features were illuminated in the soft glow, her skin appearing impossibly smooth, as if it had absorbed all the moisture from her bath. Even her lips had a natural rosy tint. Before she even got close, a light fragrance reached him, making his chest tighten inexplicably.

Irritated, he frowned.

Wen Xin thought, You’re impatient? Well, I don’t want to deal with you either. She decided to act as if she hadn’t seen him, turned her face away, and switched off the light, ready to leave without a word.

Sure, he looked like her type, but that didn’t make up for his perpetual hostility. His gaze always carried an air of disdain, as if she were beneath him. Even if she forced a smile, it wouldn’t change anything.

Since that was the case, there was no need for her to keep trying.

She had worked in the service industry before, had plenty of experience with difficult customers, and considered herself fairly tolerant. But she still had self-respect.

Just as she was about to walk past him, he suddenly blocked her way.

Feigning a polite smile, she looked up. “Do you need something?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Where’s my uniform?”

Wen Xin blinked. She hadn’t expected him to recognize her.

Right. The uniform she had taken off him when she saved his life—it was still at the Wen family home. She had forgotten to bring it.

But now that he mentioned it, she suddenly recalled that this man had actually saved her life. And she had never even thanked him for it. Feeling slightly guilty, her attitude softened as she hesitantly started, “About that…”

Before she could finish, he cut her off. “From now on, I’ll be waking up at four in the morning for training. I’ll train for half an hour, then come back for breakfast.”

“…What?” Wen Xin was momentarily confused.

“I expect breakfast to be ready by 4:30,” he said, arms crossed, looking down at her. His tone wasn’t as sharp as it had been at the dinner table, and in the quiet of the night, his voice had a deep, husky quality. But his words were still completely commanding.

Seeing her lips slightly parted in shock, he coldly added, “If you can’t do it, pack your things and leave. The Yan family has no use for an incompetent nanny.”

With that, he brushed past her, grabbed a glass of water, and went back upstairs without another word.

Wen Xin: “…”