Chapter 28

Wen Xin wasn’t from this era. She wasn’t like the local girls who buttoned their collars all the way up to their necks. She had traveled here from the modern world.

Back in her time, whether at school or out and about, summer meant tank tops, shorts, and flip-flops—the standard for a fair-skinned beauty with long legs.

Since arriving in this world, she had already toned things down considerably. But the social norms here were stifling. Even knee-length skirts were frowned upon. It was as if showing a bit of skin meant losing one’s virtue. A little less fabric, and people thought you were indecent.

Wen Xin was frustrated. Ever since coming here, everything had felt suffocating. Shopping wasn’t free—everything required ration tickets. Even with the tickets, there were limits on how much she could buy. Travel needed approval letters, and even those had expiration dates—miss it by an hour, and it was nothing but a worthless piece of paper.

Buying a house? That required a household registration transfer. No transfer, no house. She felt like a bird trapped in a cage, unable to move.

And then there was this strict, uniform-clad Yan Zeyang, the ever-serious regiment commander.

Wen Xin was beyond exasperated.

She just wanted to date him, but he wouldn’t even let her hold his hand. The one time she kissed him, she got thrown out.

Yet, she didn’t believe for a second that he wasn’t interested.

In the original novel, the villainess never even got close to him. But Wen Xin? She had lost count of how many times she had already touched him. And when she kissed him, it wasn’t like he was made of stone. She could feel his reaction. If she couldn’t tell that much, she might as well throw away all her past dating experience.

The way his hands had burned against her waist, how his grip had made her weak in the knees—when their lips and tongues tangled, he had almost instinctively pulled her into his arms.

So why did he push her away in the end?

Probably just sheer willpower. A man with strong self-control.

In this era, people were too afraid to talk about relationships. They treated interactions between men and women like something scandalous. A guy couldn’t even glance at a woman too long without being called a pervert.

It wasn’t until the early 1980s, after the reform and opening-up, that things started to change. Society became more open-minded, and women’s lives improved. They could wear shorter skirts, brighter clothes, and freely dress up without feeling the need to hide their femininity. Fashion and beauty became part of their daily lives—wearing bold red lipstick, looking fresh and stylish.

But this was still 1979.

Although things were shifting, the atmosphere remained dull. Walking down the street, all she saw was gray, gray, and more gray.

Women looked tired and lifeless, dressed in nothing but black, gray, or dark blue. It was slightly better now—occasionally, she’d spot someone in a skirt or a lighter-colored outfit.

But for the most part, everything felt like an old black-and-white photograph. No vibrancy, no color.

It was no wonder that in old pictures, people either wore bright red or vivid green, with no concern for whether it actually suited them.

She used to think it was just poor fashion sense from that era.

But now, she understood.

If she had spent years being restricted in what she could wear, seeing only dull colors every single day, she, too, would crave bright red, vibrant green, and striking yellow. The moment she had the freedom to choose, she’d pick the most colorful things possible, amazed by how beautiful they looked.

It wasn’t bad taste—it was a reaction to years of suppression.

Sure, since she was here, she should blend in and follow the customs. But Wen Xin still had the soul of a modern woman.

She loved beauty. She loved fashion. She loved all things elegant and stylish. And this era was suffocating that part of her.

Not just her—but all women.

How could she not feel trapped?

On top of that, she—a modern woman with an open view on love—was actively pursuing a man who, in this era, had likely never even dated before.

And yet, she had been met with rejection after rejection.

The first time, he pushed her to the ground.

The second time, he chased her downstairs.

The third time, she just wanted to bring him lunch, and now he wouldn’t even acknowledge her existence.

So far, her pursuit had been a series of crushing defeats.

She was unconvinced. She couldn’t figure out where she had gone wrong. Could it really be that she couldn’t pluck this untouched, high-and-mighty flower?

Warmth simmered in Wen Xin’s heart.

Wasn’t he supposed to be upright, pure, and indifferent to women? Fine! That worked out just right for her. She had carried his lunchbox all the way here under the scorching sun, sweating from the heat. She had long wanted to take off this sticky, stifling shirt clinging to her skin!

And as it turned out, this move caught him off guard. Just as she placed her shirt on the sofa and stretched her arms with a satisfied, refreshed feeling, she turned back—only to see Yan Zeyang’s face darkened, his expression taut as he glared at her and bellowed, “Nonsense! Put your clothes back on immediately!”

Then, as if in a hurry, he strode over and quickly shut the door.

Would Wen Xin listen to him? He ignored her earlier, and now he wanted her to obey? No way!

When Yan Zeyang turned around, he saw Wen Xin, standing in the middle of the room with her two small braids, dressed in a snug white tank top and blue trousers. Her bare, snow-white arms and shoulders were exposed. She let out a huff, twisted her waist, and skipped over to the office window. Leaning forward to look down at the training grounds, she muttered, “Oh, so there is wind. It’s quite cool.”

Yan Zeyang’s face remained cold as he took a few strides toward her, grabbed her by her delicate arm, and yanked her away from the window.

He must have been angry because his grip was firm, his fingers pressing into her fair, smooth skin.

The soldiers of the 146th Military District were all top-tier in physical strength, and among them, Yan the devil was feared for his prowess. So perhaps he didn’t control his strength well enough, and Wen Xin cried out in pain.

When he let go, there were five glaring red finger marks imprinted on her soft, white skin.

Wen Xin felt a sharp pain shoot through her arm, as if it had been caught in a vise. She yelped.

The moment she cried out, Yan Zeyang immediately released her, only to see the vivid red marks on her arm—marks that, by tomorrow, would likely turn into five distinct bruises. They looked shocking.

Wen Xin felt utterly wronged. Staring at the marks in disbelief, her eyes turned red with grievance.

She had always had delicate skin. Even though she had grown up under someone else’s roof, she had always been well-behaved and had never been treated so roughly. The pain from his grip had nearly brought her to tears.

All she did was wear a tank top—a completely normal one at that—and he treated her with such violence? Just how much strength did he use? Was he trying to break her arm?

Fine. Now she understood.

He never wanted her here in the first place. She had been deluding herself.

“I’m leaving. I won’t come back again,” Wen Xin said, her voice choked, eyes rimmed red. She turned and ran to the sofa, grabbed her shirt, threw it on, and prepared to leave.

She wouldn’t come back. Not ever.

Everything about this era seemed to have a natural hostility toward her. In the modern world, the essential oils she crafted were always in high demand. Every time she released a limited batch, they would sell out instantly. But here? These people didn’t even know what essential oils were, let alone how to profit from them.

Even pursuing a man here was filled with rejection and hostility. Not only had she faced setback after setback, but now he had even used force on her—squeezing her so hard, as if he intended to snap her bones.

She was done.

She gave up.

…

Meanwhile, Ye Jianzhou had just finished his lunch, completely satisfied. The braised pork melted in his mouth, the sweet and sour ribs were divine, and the minced meat with green beans and chili was perfect over rice. Every bite was irresistible. He only wished his stomach were bottomless so he could keep eating. The food was simply too delicious.

Even after finishing his meal, he sat there reminiscing about the taste for a while.

Then, a new thought popped into his head—what excuse could he use to drop by the Yan household for dinner tonight?

Seriously, there was nothing more to say. Wen Xin, that little girl, despite her young age, was incredible when it came to home cooking. He still remembered how Director He had mentioned that she was raised by her great-aunt, who had once worked in the imperial palace, learning traditional royal cuisine.

Now, Ye Jianzhou was fully convinced. No wonder her cooking was so refined! The old palace chefs paid great attention to color, aroma, and taste. Nowadays, there weren’t many people left with such skills. If he hadn’t married so early—if he had been born twenty years later—just for the sake of this food, he would have fought to marry her himself.

After all, for a man, what could be more blissful than eating meals cooked by his own wife?

It was just a pity that his wife wasn’t trained in imperial cuisine!

He chuckled to himself.

After washing the lunchbox, he carried it to the regiment commander’s office. But when he reached the door, he found it closed.

Strange.

He didn’t think much of it. As the political commissar, he had access to the office and came and went throughout the day. There was no need to knock every single time.

Besides, he knew young master Yan’s personality all too well. That guy was impossible when it came to relationships. Ye Jianzhou had introduced countless women to him, but Yan Zeyang had never been interested.

Him, coaxing a woman? Pfft. That would be the day pigs started flying.

If he ever treated a woman nicely, those female comrades would surely swarm him in an instant. Who wouldn’t want to marry a man like him? The girls from the literary troupe all had their eyes on him, constantly chirping, “Commander Yan, Commander Yan, Commander Yan…” But did Yan Zeyang ever give them the time of day? Did anyone dare get close?

So, Ye Jianzhou truly wasn’t expecting anything unusual as he casually pushed the door open.

And then—

He froze.

Ye Jianzhou doubted his own eyes. He wasn’t that old yet. Surely, he wasn’t already seeing things?

…

Sunlight streamed through the office window, illuminating the room with bright, natural light.

And in that light, the feared and formidable regiment commander—the same man who sent shivers down the spines of young soldiers—was now standing tensely, holding a petite girl in his arms.

He was turned slightly toward the door, his head bowed, speaking to her in a soft, coaxing tone.

…

Incredulously, Ye Jianzhou watched as Yan the devil carefully held the girl’s fair-skinned arm, gently massaging it as he asked, “Does it hurt?”

“It hurts! You squeezed me so hard, I thought I was going to die!”

“You deserved it.” He reprimanded her in a low voice. But despite his words, his grip loosened ever so slightly.

Ye Jianzhou blinked. He must be hallucinating.

“Then I don’t need you to rub it!” The girl pouted and struggled in his embrace.

“Stay still.” A vein throbbed at Yan Zeyang’s temple, as if he were barely holding back his temper. “Has no one ever taught you that you shouldn’t casually take off your clothes in front of others?”

“I’m feeling hot, can’t I cool down? Besides, I’m still wearing clothes!”

“That’s still not acceptable. Do you know how many people have questionable thoughts?”

“What kind of questionable thoughts?”

“You tell me what kind.”

“Then why don’t you have those thoughts?”

Yan Zeyang: “…”

Ye Jianzhou almost couldn’t hold back his laughter. Even Yan Weiguo’s son had a day like this? A day when he was left speechless?

“You have to compensate me! Look at how you bruised me. Do you know how much it hurt? You squeezed me so hard I almost cried!”

“I’ll give you money and ration tickets when we get back. You can have them all.”

“Who wants those?” The girl’s voice was sweet and sultry, yet firm. “I want to kiss you.”

“Absolutely not! Do you know where we are? Is this a place for your nonsense? Show some respect!” Yan Zeyang immediately put on a stern face.

But the little girl didn’t care at all. She wrapped her arms around his waist and stood on tiptoe, aiming for a kiss.

Yan Zeyang staggered back, but she followed step by step, pushing him until he was backed against the bookshelf. Only then did he steady her in his arms.

Ye Jianzhou still wanted to save face, so he quietly closed the door.

He really was too old for this kind of shock. The girls in the cultural troupe were already bold, chasing after men without the slightest embarrassment. But now, there was a girl who dared to forcefully kiss Yan the Devil without even blushing.

Her courage could pierce the sky! Was she not afraid that the Yan family’s demon would throw her out the window?

Yan Weiguo’s son had always been career-focused. His priorities had been on work for years, and he never took marriage seriously. It really would take someone bold enough to break through his defenses and take the high ground.

When Ye Jianzhou had tried introducing him to women, he knew there was no point in expecting Yan Zeyang to take the initiative. Instead, he focused on subtly influencing the women. After all, in this new era, women should bravely pursue their happiness!

But Ye Jianzhou had never expected that Comrade Xiao Yan would be forced into such a situation. A man standing at 1.86 meters, actually pushed all the way to the bookshelf by a girl. He could have easily pushed her away, but he didn’t dare to.

Turns out, even the fiercest wolf can’t resist a persistent girl.

However, Ye Jianzhou had already investigated Comrade Xiao Wen’s background. Her family situation was a headache. He wasn’t sure if the chief would approve. So, while he left with a satisfied grin, there was also a hint of worry in his heart.