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While they were eating, An Huan suddenly said, “I want to find a job.”
Xiao Zheng paused mid-bite and asked, “What’s wrong? Are we short on money?”
An Huan shook her head. “Of course not—we have enough.”
As a deputy division commander, Xiao Zheng earned a cadre salary of 200 yuan per month, with an additional 20%—40 yuan—as a longevity allowance for his 16 years of service. That made a total of 240 yuan.
Every month, he consistently sent 30 yuan to support a fellow soldier, 20 yuan back to his hometown, and 100 yuan to the original host’s parents in the provincial capital. What remained, after covering food and occasional cigarettes and fireworks, he deposited into a savings account.
The passbook he handed over to An Huan had over 3,000 yuan in it—a significant sum.
The original host was notoriously bad at saving. She had nothing set aside. Before her death, Qiu Shushen had left An Huan 1,000 yuan as a cushion. Once An Huan arrived in this world, Xiao Zheng handed over his passbook and from then on, An Huan managed all his earnings. There was no shortage of money.
“Even if we’re not short on money, I still want to do something for myself. Sitting around at home all day is boring,” she said.
There weren’t many entertainment options during this era.
The women in the military family Courtyard would chat and gossip once their household chores were done.
Xiao Zheng nodded. She had a point.
“You’re a university graduate. It’ll be easy for you to get a job. Teaching music at the county high school would be a breeze. I’ll make arrangements for you.”
To his surprise, An Huan refused. “I don’t want to be a teacher. Are there any other jobs?”
Xiao Zheng was taken aback. “Why not?” Teaching was a highly respected profession.
An Huan certainly wasn’t going to explain it was because, in two years, the coming political movement would brand teachers as one of the “Stinking Old People.”
She simply said, “I don’t think I’m suited for education. I’m open to anything else. It doesn’t have to be related to my major.”
An Huan wasn’t like the original host. Though she had also studied violin, it wasn’t out of passion—it was because her parents had forced her into it.
Her middle-class parents, obsessed with cultivating “refined” tastes, had pushed her into the arts from a young age, hoping she’d bring prestige to the family. But she had little talent and struggled in her studies, which left her parents not just cold but disappointed.
Now that she’d transmigrated, she had even less interest in pursuing music.
Xiao Zheng gave her a long, thoughtful look.
“There aren’t many job openings in the county,” he said finally. “There’s a long queue of military spouses waiting.”
An Huan nodded. “That’s okay. I can wait—I’m not in a rush. If I do find a job, I’ll send Dongdong to kindergarten.”
Dongdong perked up at the sound of his name and looked at his mother.
An Huan asked him, “Do you want to go to kindergarten?”
Dongdong shook his head without hesitation. “No.”
“Why not? There are lots of kids to play with at kindergarten,” she coaxed.
Dongdong answered in a sweet, soft voice, “I like playing with Mommy.”
An Huan laughed and teased him, “You’re a little Mommy’s boy.”
Xiao Zheng asked, “What’s a Mommy’s boy?”
“It means a boy who’s always clinging to his mother—can’t go anywhere without her,” An Huan explained.
Dongdong giggled. “I am a Mommy’s boy~ I’ll never leave Mommy~”
An Huan felt her heart melt. Her son was too adorable.
But Xiao Zheng’s face grew serious.
He always thought Dongdong was too pampered—more like a girl than a boy.
“You’re a man. Don’t go around saying ‘Mommy this, Mommy that’ all the time, understood?” After a pause, he added, “When I have time, I’ll take you horseback riding and shooting.”
An Huan suddenly remembered when Xiao Zheng took their three-year-old son shooting. She quickly said, “Absolutely not. He’s too young to be handling high-powered weapons. He’s not allowed near a gun until he’s grown.”
“High-powered weapons?” Xiao Zheng scratched his nose. It was just a gun—why use such technical terms? And it wasn’t like he’d let the kid handle it alone. Last time, when he brought Dongdong shooting, the little guy had been thrilled.
Xiao Zheng was convinced it was An Huan’s pampering that made their son soft.
With that thought, he was ready to assert his role as a father and correct Dongdong’s behavior his own way.
So he put on a stern face, hoping to scare An Huan into backing down and listening to him.
But An Huan wasn’t scared at all. Her clear eyes met his as she spoke gently, “Just listen to me, okay?”
Xiao Zheng opened and closed his mouth twice and, as if under a spell, nodded. “Okay, I’ll listen to you.”
Even after walking into the office, Xiao Zheng was still in a daze.
Damn it.
How did I end up listening to her?
The office door knocked.
Ling Hansong walked in. “Deputy Division Commander Xiao, this is next month’s training plan. Please take a look and see if anything needs to be revised.”
Xiao Zheng took the document and studied it seriously.
He looked at it for quite a while.
Ling Hansong glanced at his tightly furrowed brows and expressionless face, and his heart thudded.
Was something wrong?
Even though Ling Hansong and Xiao Zheng were old friends who joked around often, when it came to work, Xiao Zheng never let personal feelings get in the way.
Including Ling Hansong, no one in the entire division dared relax in front of Xiao Zheng.
After a long silence, Xiao Zheng finally nodded. “Looks good.”
Ling Hansong let out a sigh of relief and carefully closed the door behind him.
Xiao Zheng remained puzzled.
He wasn’t sick, and he was still scary enough that even Ling Hansong was nervous around him.
So why was An Huan the only one who wasn’t afraid of him?
In fact, he was the one afraid of upsetting her.
She was just a soft and dainty little wife—he could beat two of her with a single finger!