Chapter 3: The Military District

“Auntie’s husband.” Lin Yiqiao greeted him with a smile, to which the man nodded indifferently.

She had expected this lukewarm reception. After all, back in her hometown, her behavior had been quite wild, and her uncle-in-law thought she was an idle good-for-nothing. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t start fresh in the capital.

Lin Yiqiao busied herself setting the table. Aunt Qianru quickly urged her to sit down and eat.

Just as they began eating, Zhang Guoqiang said, “There’s extra training at the military district in a few days, I won’t be home for meals.”

“How could that work? Your stomach’s sensitive. The mess hall food doesn’t sit well with you,” Qianru fretted.

Military district?!

Lin Yiqiao mentally rolled her eyes.

“Uncle, I can bring you food! You can try what I cook today, and if it suits your taste, I can bring lunch for you every day,” Lin Yiqiao offered sweetly.

Zhang Guoqiang took a bite of the braised black fish—rich, flavorful, with a hint of spice—just the way he liked it.

Thank goodness Lin Yiqiao hadn’t skimped on the seasoning.

“Yes, and it’s good for her to get out and about. Maybe a nice young man will take a liking to her,” Qianru joked with a knowing glance.

“Auntie, stop teasing me.” Lin Yiqiao acted shy.

“Then I’ll trouble you, Yiqiao,” Zhang Guoqiang said.

“It’s no trouble at all, Uncle. Don’t be so polite with me.”

When it came to charming people, Lin Yiqiao had a knack. By the end of the meal, Qianru was beaming, and even Zhang Guoqiang was starting to think maybe his niece had changed for the better.

Little did he know, he had just let a walking disaster into the capital.

---

Qianru arranged for Lin Yiqiao to stay in a small attic room on the second floor, right across from Zhang Xiao’s old room. Though not luxurious, it was clean and cozy, with sun-dried bedding.

After so many exhausting days, Lin Yiqiao finally collapsed onto a bed. She inhaled the faint scent of locust blossoms in the air.

The capital sure smells better.

Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.

—

The next morning, Lin Yiqiao got up early to make breakfast.

Golden crispy pancakes, a large pot of winter melon and egg soup—fresh and savory.

There were also marinated cucumbers she’d started the night before. Cool, crisp, and perfectly seasoned for summer.

She had worked hard to avoid another culinary disaster.

Zhang Guoqiang was up early. As he stepped out of his room, he spotted Lin Yiqiao busy in the kitchen.

“Yiqiao, thanks for the effort.”

Startled—she had been sneaking bites—Lin Yiqiao quickly hid the cucumber-wrapped pancake she was munching on.

“Uncle, you’re too polite. Oh, by the way, what would you like for lunch today? I can prepare something special.”

“Anything is fine. I’ll eat whatever’s there.”

His change in tone surprised her, but she guessed her aunt must’ve spoken in her favor the night before.

“All right then, I’ll make something I’m good at.” She smiled and brought all the dishes to the table.

Qianru had just finished washing up. Since she wasn’t much of a cook, breakfast was usually simple. This was a feast by their standards.

After breakfast, Zhang Guoqiang headed out.

Qianru went back to bed, but Lin Yiqiao didn’t dare waste time—she had to prep lunch.

Braised pork ribs with stir-fried mung bean sprouts should be fancy enough.

Steamed mantou buns came out of the pot piping hot. As a southerner, Lin Yiqiao wasn’t originally skilled at making these, but since she knew her uncle-in-law loved them, she had asked Qianru to teach her.

She packed Qianru’s meal and loaded Zhang Guoqiang’s into a metal lunchbox, tossing in a giant mantou and plenty of ribs for herself—after all, a girl needed energy.

Then she dashed upstairs, took a quick bath, and washed out the kitchen smell from her hair. Thank goodness her aunt had an old hair dryer—noisy, but it did the trick.

Lin Yiqiao dabbed on some jasmine-scented balm; northern air was dry, and it kept her skin smooth and fragrant like creamy jade.

She styled her hair in a loose side ponytail with a couple of cute hairpins. Compared to the common thick twin braids, her look was refreshingly unique.

No need for extra makeup—her skin was already porcelain-fair with a natural pink flush. Her lips were cherry red and plump: effortlessly seductive yet innocent.

She put on a well-fitted white V-neck blouse and the green military-style pants Qianru gave her, emphasizing her slim waist.

Satisfied with her appearance, she grabbed the lunchbox and left.

—

She walked a long way to reach the back entrance of the military district based on the address her uncle had given her.

The capital’s summer heat was no joke—she was glistening with sweat, cheeks flushed.

The guard at the gate blushed deeply and didn’t dare meet her eyes. After she registered her visit, a familiar face, Xiao Hu, Zhang Guoqiang’s orderly, came running out.

Clearly, he was surprised at how well she had dressed up.

Xiao Hu led her inside. Lin Yiqiao knew Zhang Guoqiang must’ve arranged this ahead of time—probably hoping she’d meet a nice young man.

The rear gate led quickly to a side entrance of a large office building.

“Comrade Lin, Director Zhang has an important meeting soon. I need to prep some materials, so please take the food to the fourth-floor logistics department director’s office,” Xiao Hu said.

Before she could ask questions, he ran off as if something urgent had come up.

How thoughtful. She was happy to wander around on her own anyway.

The first floor seemed to be archives, rows of bookshelves behind glass windows, with a scholarly air.

The staircase had smooth wooden banisters, and the whole building gave off a solemn, dignified atmosphere.

She could faintly hear men shouting in military drills, but couldn’t tell where the sound was coming from.

She peeked around on each floor, but the building was practically empty—probably lunchtime.

When she reached the fourth floor, she excitedly looked for the logistics director’s office.

Wait a second—none of the doors were labeled?!

She had assumed offices would have nameplates, but they were all plain doors. Now she was truly lost.

The hallway was deserted. She didn’t dare yell, so she softly called out, “Hello? Anyone here?”

She walked deeper into the corridor. “Hello—” she hadn’t finished her sentence when she heard the click of a door lock.

A dark red door opened.

Out stepped a man.

His long, strong legs were wrapped in crisp military slacks, his large hand gripping the door handle. A fine leather watch peeked from under his rolled shirt sleeve.

Their outfits… oddly matched, like a couple’s.

“What are you making a fuss for?” the man asked, frowning.

Despite his solid build, he looked refined. High-bridged nose, tanned skin, and an aura that was hard to define.

“I… I’m here to deliver lunch to Director Zhang of the logistics department,” Lin Yiqiao stammered, eyes fixed on his waistline.

He looked strong. Very strong.

“Deliver lunch? With urgent training going on, he’s still having people bring meals? Special treatment?” The man’s dark eyes bored into her.

Lin Yiqiao realized this could backfire. “No, no! Director Zhang has stomach issues. I was just worried he might not tolerate canteen food and it would delay training. He has a meeting now and asked me to bring it straight up. I was just leaving!”

She spoke while watching him closely, appearing meek and sincere, while still sizing him up mentally.

“What’s your relation to him?”

“He’s my aunt’s husband,” she replied, lowering her eyes.

The man stepped closer. Seeing she didn’t follow, he turned. “Come.”

She jogged after him. From the back—broad shoulders, narrow waist—absolutely top-tier.

Suddenly, she remembered that one glance back at the courtyard gate.

It was him.

He stopped at the first door by the stairs, knocked, and, getting no answer, opened it.

“This is Director Zhang’s office.”

“Thank you, Comrade.” Lin Yiqiao beamed, dimples deep, eyes shining.

“What’s your name?” she added sweetly. “You’re very kind.”

The man stared at her before replying, “Qi Jun. Commander of the 32nd Regiment.”

Sensing his stern air had softened, Lin Yiqiao said, “Nice to meet you. I’m Lin Yiqiao—‘Yi’ like ‘dependence,’ and ‘Qiao’ like ‘clever.’”

She extended her hand, blushing just right.

Qi Jun hesitated, then briefly touched her fingers with his callused hand.

She stepped inside and placed the lunchbox on Zhang Guoqiang’s desk. The aroma of food lingered in the room.

“I’ll be going now. Thank you again, Comrade Qi.”

She turned to leave.

“Wait.” Qi Jun stepped out first and said,

“Revolutionary comrades are equals—there is no ‘high or low.’”

Then he walked away without looking back.

Lin Yiqiao was puzzled.

…Was he upset about the word “honorable surname”?

She burst out laughing and hurried downstairs, her heart oddly racing.

The capital’s amazing. So grand.

And the men here… whew. Real fire.