Chapter 11

“I didn’t really put in much effort. I’d tried this braised food before, thought it was delicious, and wanted to bring some for you, Auntie,” Lin Huiru said a little embarrassedly.

But in truth, she had spent heavily. The braised food cost 1.6 yuan per jin, and she had bought five jin—that was eight yuan in total, nearly all of her savings.

If it weren’t to curry favor with Song Meijuan, she wouldn’t have spent so much. Lin Huiru had considered buying other gifts, but the prices would only have been higher.

She simply didn’t have that much money. After thinking it over, she decided that food would do—it still showed that she always had Song Meijuan in mind.

“You’re really thoughtful,” Song Meijuan said.

Although she said this, her attitude toward Lin Huiru wasn’t warm.

But this was simply her personality—reserved, not especially affectionate even toward her own children.

Lin Huiru couldn’t help cursing inwardly. Song Meijuan was truly hard to please. She had come to the Wen family’s old residence many times, but Song Meijuan’s attitude toward her was always lukewarm.

Not long after, Mu Wanwan excused herself, saying she still had things to do, and left early.

As soon as she left, Wen Xin couldn’t sit still. She ran over to sit beside Song Meijuan.

“Mom, hurry and open the gift Mu Wanwan gave you. Let’s see what it is!”

Song Meijuan felt helpless about her daughter’s nature, but she still opened the box Mu Wanwan had given her. Inside lay a turquoise qipao. She froze for a moment.

Taking it out for a closer look, she found that the size suited her perfectly. The style was unlike those sold in the department store—it was more form-fitting, the cut far better, and the fabric felt comfortable to the touch. The color suited her as well.

The more she looked, the more she liked it. She even went into her room to change into it.

When she came back out, both Wen Xin and Lin Huiru were stunned.

The turquoise color made Song Meijuan’s skin look fairer. The qipao’s tailoring fit her figure exactly. She already possessed a kind of classical beauty, and now she looked like a woman stepping out of the Republican era—graceful, refined.

No woman dislikes being beautiful, least of all Song Meijuan, who had always cared about her appearance. For the first time that day, a genuine smile appeared on her face.

If Mu Wanwan hadn’t carefully observed her, she wouldn’t have known her exact size. Judging from the workmanship, the qipao must have been made by a well-regarded master tailor. Such a piece would not be cheap.

The old master was right: Mu Wanwan truly was a good child.

Even Wen Xin, who disliked Mu Wanwan, had to admit that the qipao was stunning. It stirred a desire in her—she wanted to ask where Mu Wanwan had it made. Their school would be holding an event for National Day next month, and she wanted a custom qipao too.

But asking Mu Wanwan directly? She would never. To her, that would feel like lowering herself.

Lin Huiru noticed the admiration in Song Meijuan’s eyes. Her hands, resting on her lap, clenched unconsciously.

Mu Wanwan was certainly willing to spend money to please Song Meijuan. If this continued, Song Meijuan might grow increasingly fond of her.

The old master already favored Mu Wanwan. If Song Meijuan did as well, then even if Wen Lin disliked her, Mu Wanwan’s place in the Wen family would become unshakable.

No, this couldn’t go on. Lin Huiru had to find a way to make Mu Wanwan and Wen Lin divorce. If she delayed any longer, she feared she would truly lose her chance. She couldn’t wait.

A calculating look flashed quickly through her eyes as she lowered her head in thought…

—

In the following days, Mu Wanwan stayed busy. She spent her time either preparing braised food or visiting the old master at the hospital.

One evening, after returning from the hospital, she was about to take a shower and go to bed when she suddenly heard a rapid knocking at the door.

Puzzled, she wondered who could be visiting so late.

Opening the door, she saw a young man in military uniform, with a military vehicle parked behind him.

Before she could ask, he spoke first.

“Sister-in-law, you must be sister-in-law, right? Hello, I’m Wang Dazhu, a soldier under Commander Wen. The commander was injured during a mission, and we’ve brought him back to recuperate.”

Wen Lin was injured?

Mu Wanwan frowned. “Was it serious? Wouldn’t it be better to take him to the hospital? It would be safer.”

“Don’t worry, sister-in-law. The commander’s injuries aren’t too bad. The wounds have already been stitched. It was the commander’s own request to return home and recover, and we didn’t dare disobey.”

Wang Dazhu scratched his head, then, with another soldier, helped Wen Lin out of the car.

Seeing this, Mu Wanwan quickly stepped aside.

Wen Lin was supported into the bedroom. His face looked pale, with bandages wrapped around his waist and thigh—clearly, he was injured in more than one place.

After carefully settling him onto the bed, the two soldiers were about to leave.

But seeing that it was already dark outside, and that they looked weary from travel, Mu Wanwan stopped them, insisting they eat something before going.

She had to prepare food for Wen Lin anyway. Cooking a bit more was no trouble.

She had always respected soldiers who defended the nation. Without them bearing such responsibilities, there would be no peace and happiness.

Even if she wanted a divorce and thought poorly of Wen Lin as a husband, that was only about personal feelings. In the military, Wen Lin had always been an excellent officer.

Since he had been injured performing his duties, it was only right that she take good care of him.

After Mu Wanwan’s invitation, the two soldiers didn’t leave immediately. They went back into Wen Lin’s room.

Wang Dazhu, unable to hide his envy, said to Wen Lin, “Commander, sister-in-law is so beautiful! Tell us, how did you manage to marry such a stunning wife?

No wonder you never paid attention to those art troupe girls in the army, and then suddenly married out of nowhere. Turns out your standards were just too high!”

Wen Lin glanced at Wang Dazhu, as if he were talking too much.

But Wang Dazhu wasn’t wrong—Mu Wanwan really was beautiful. That much was undeniable.

Before long, the smell from the kitchen reached the room, and Wen Lin’s stomach growled.

Since being injured, he hadn’t had much appetite and had skipped several proper meals.

Mu Wanwan was cooking noodles—it was quick and convenient. At noon, she had simmered chicken soup for the old master, and some remained, perfect as a noodle broth.

Simple noodles, topped with shredded pork and vegetables, along with three fried eggs and some stir-fried peanuts, looked pleasing when served in the bowl.