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“Wife, do whatever you want to do. I don’t need you to hide in the background, sacrificing yourself as ‘support.’ We can walk side by side. My honor belongs to you, too, and I’m proud of you.”
“Mm.”
Momo’s chest warmed. To meet a partner who truly understood her—it felt so, so good.
That evening, they cooked together. A glance was all it took to know what the other was thinking. Words weren’t necessary. That was true harmony.
“This marinade is simple. As long as you prepare the spice pouch in advance, you can make a big batch.”
“It’s my secret recipe. Strictly speaking, it’s missing a few things, but it doesn’t really matter.”
Spices here weren’t as plentiful as in her previous life, but the essentials were there.
“Alright, let’s eat. Leave the meat to simmer while we eat. By the time we’re done, it’ll be just right. For the vegetables, just a short boil and then let them soak—it’ll be fine.”
They ate as they chatted. Xingchen used to think his cooking was hopeless—barely edible. But under his wife’s guidance, he realized it could actually taste good.
“Not bad at all. You’ve got talent. A few more tries and you’ll be great.”
Momo gave him a thumbs-up. The food wasn’t exactly amazing, but encouragement mattered. That was how enthusiasm grew.
“Then from now on, I can make breakfast for you too.”
**“A-Chen, tomorrow evening we’ll need two tables. We’ll borrow one from Sister Xu and a few chairs from Sister Meng. That should be enough.
Seven adults and nine kids—sixteen in total. You men are at one table, seven of you. We women plus the kids at the other end, nine in total. We’ll prepare equal portions for both tables.”**
Luckily, among the four battalion commanders, one was unmarried, one had just wed and had no children yet, and the other two had only one child each. If there were more, they’d run out of space.
Su Tinghao wouldn’t be able to come; new recruits weren’t allowed to leave base unless granted special permission, and the last time he only managed because of Xingchen and Su Tingjie.
“I’ve told them already. The other wives will come early to help. I’ll finish work and come back early too.”
“Good.”
Everyone in the regiment knew—the feared “King of Soldiers,” the cold-faced “Lord of Hell,” was at home a man who did all the chores. His reputation as a good husband was already famous.
After dinner, Xingchen ran a bath. His gaze was intense, full of urgency. Momo quickly grabbed her nightdress and scurried into the bathroom.
Nervous, expectant, she dawdled long enough that the water was nearly cool before she finally came out, only to find Xingchen waiting right at the door.
“Why are you here?”
“I was helping you with the bathwater. Go lie down in the bedroom. I’ll wash quickly and bring more water.”
He bathed using the leftover water, while she dried her hair until it was mostly done, then lay down.
After cleaning the bathroom, Xingchen hurried into the bedroom. It was pitch dark, but his eyes were long accustomed to the dark. He could see her clearly.
Both carried the same scent of soap. He held her tightly, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her lips—slowly, one by one, moving downward. His hands never stopped.
The moonlight was strong, and the room was filled only with instinct and breath. (The rest, dear reader, you can imagine. As the Buddha says: some things cannot be spoken.)
When Momo opened her eyes again, it was already past ten in the morning. She rubbed her sore waist.
Men were all the same; no honesty in bed. They promised with their mouths, but reality was another story.
At least Xingchen was considerate. He’d cleaned her up, she wasn’t hurt, and she’d been able to rest a while longer before eating brunch. Afterward, she settled under the shade of a tree in the courtyard with a book.
She thought everyone would only arrive in the afternoon. But suddenly there was a knock at the door.
“Sister Xu, why are you here so early?”
“We came to help. And it’s nice to chat a bit beforehand. It’s boring at home.”
“Please, come in. I’ll pour some water.”
She hadn’t prepared much, so she hurriedly brought out a bowl of hard candies. Not because she was stingy, but because she wanted to stay low-key. Apart from Sister Xu, she didn’t know the other wives well.
“Have some candy, some water. Cooking can wait.”
**“Let me introduce you. This is Vice Commander Lin’s wife, Su Momo—the youngest among us, only eighteen.
This is Battalion Commander Liu’s wife, Wang Yan. This is Battalion Commander Li’s wife, Wu Mei. And this is Battalion Commander Du’s wife, Cui Fangfang. Wang Yan and Wu Mei are from the northeast, and Fangfang is from the west.”**
With introductions made, conversation flowed more easily.
“Momo, may I call you that?”
“Of course, Sister Yan. How old is your little one? So adorable.”
Wang Yan carried a toddler, neatly dressed but shy, clinging tightly to his mother and only occasionally peeking around.
“He’s a little over two. His name’s Mumu. He’s very quiet—rarely cries. Sometimes I worry he’s mute, if not for the occasional sound.”
“So you’ve always cared for him yourself? He looks very attached to you.”
“Yes. Before we joined the regiment, my husband was injured once, so I left Mumu with my mother-in-law for a month. I thought he’d cry endlessly, but when I came back, he was as quiet as ever.”
She smiled as she said it, but Momo’s heart tightened. She didn’t comment, simply shifted the subject.
**“Tonight, I plan on making eight dishes: stir-fried pig’s head with peppers, spicy kidney stir-fry, sautéed pig heart, tomato scrambled eggs, shredded potatoes with vinegar, braised eggplant, cucumber and black fungus salad, plus a big harvest platter.
Main dishes will be cornbread and mixed-grain steamed buns.”**
“That’s so lavish! I’ve never had this many good dishes even at a wedding banquet.”
Cui Fangfang’s hometown custom was to serve noodles at weddings. Even when she and Commander Du married, the banquet had no meat. Here, too, meat was precious—no wife could conjure meat out of thin air.
“But aren’t those cheap cuts? Pig heart, pig kidney—are those even edible?”
Though Wu Mei didn’t raise her voice, everyone heard her clearly. The atmosphere soured. After all, eight dishes—meat and vegetables both—were already generous. Who could afford a table of nothing but prime meat?
“Last time everyone helped build the latrine, I cooked these same dishes. Everyone said they were delicious and asked me to make them again. So don’t worry—people will enjoy them.”
Wu Mei’s husband, Commander Li, was the oldest of the battalion leaders, just two years younger than Political Commissar Xu. If not for Lin Xingchen’s outstanding performance, he would have been the likeliest candidate for vice commander.