CHAPTER 4 

At the top of the stairs, Su Yin heard the commotion below die down and knew she should return to her room. After all, no one liked a guest who lingered to watch family drama.

She left without hearing the rest of the conversation—never knowing Gu Cheng’an had looked up at that exact moment.

Back in her room, the image of him stuck in her mind: the sharp angles of his face, the clean lines of his features, the tall, commanding presence that filled the room even when he stood still.

She finally understood why, in the book she’d read, the aloof male lead’s powerful uncle had so many admirers. With that family background and those looks, how could he not?

Yet, despite the attention, he was never fickle—his heart was loyal to one person alone.

In the original plot, Old Master Gu had sent people to investigate her, only to give up the engagement after learning she’d married the son of a militia captain.

Gu Cheng’an’s heart had belonged to his childhood sweetheart from the military compound, Xin Mengqi. No matter how many women liked him, his devotion never wavered.

Su Yin, fully aware she was just a disposable side character, had no intention of meddling with the story beyond the one choice she’d already changed.

After a moment’s thought, she guessed things downstairs had calmed, and Aunt Wu came to fetch her.

Following Aunt Wu down, she immediately spotted the elegant middle-aged woman in the living room—Gu Cheng’an’s mother, Qian Jingfang.

Though past forty, her features were refined, her skin fair, her short hair framing her face perfectly. In her crisp white silk blouse and indigo cotton skirt, she exuded poise… and a touch of aloofness.

“This is Su Yin?”

“Hello, Auntie,” Su Yin greeted politely.

“Your grandfather raised you well,” Qian Jingfang said, genuinely surprised. She hadn’t expected the girl from the countryside to be so striking—calm and steady, without a hint of rustic awkwardness. A glimmer of admiration flickered in her eyes.

They all sat down. Old Master Gu looked around, realizing one person was missing, and his mood soured again. “Where’s Gu Cheng’an?”

Her cousin Gu Chenghui, deciding she might as well stay for dinner, answered, “Fourth Brother said he was going to Brother Qingwen’s place. Won’t be back for the meal.”

The truth? The moment Gu Cheng’an heard from Aunt Wu that his fiancée had arrived, he’d left without a word, slipping away like an eel.

“Nonsense!” Old Master Gu’s voice dropped cold. His grandson spent all day running around with no discipline! His betrothed had arrived, and he couldn’t even be bothered to show his face?

“Dad, Cheng’an had business to attend to,” Qian Jingfang interjected smoothly. “He’s starting work at the Housing Bureau next month—went to discuss things with Qingwen. Don’t worry, when he’s back, I’ll have him take Su Yin to the state-run restaurant for a meal.”

Gu Chenghui almost laughed out loud at her third aunt’s quick thinking. Everyone knew her Fourth Brother despised arranged marriages. She certainly wasn’t going to point that out.

“Auntie, it’s fine. Work comes first,” Su Yin said naturally, following Qian Jingfang’s lead. Old Master Gu’s face softened, and everyone finally relaxed.

By the end of the meal, the old man’s tone toward Su Yin was warm. He even told his daughter-in-law, “Jingfang, you know neither of those boys understands women’s matters. Su Yin’s here alone—look after her. And Huihui, show your cousin around.”

“Of course, Dad. I’ll take good care of her,” Qian Jingfang promised.

“Sure,” Gu Chenghui agreed readily—though she couldn’t help thinking her Fourth Brother’s fiancée was far too pretty.

That night, Su Yin lay in the spacious, neatly made upstairs room, the fresh sheets smelling faintly of sun. The house was beautiful, yet her feelings were complicated. She didn’t know if the year or more she’d be waiting for the college entrance exams to resume would pass peacefully. Somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, she dreamed of her late grandfather, and her chest ached.

….

The next morning, the smell of noodles made from fuqiang flour wafted from the kitchen.

Gu Kangcheng, who’d returned late from work the night before, finally met Su Yin. After a few kind words, he went to fetch his military cap. Seeing the slight frown on his wife’s face, he teased, “It’s just a young girl staying with us. Look at you, worrying so much.”

“What do you know?” Qian Jingfang shot him a look. “With the family’s conditions, I’ve no objections if Dad buys her clothes or gives her the same pocket money as Cheng’an. But this marriage… Dad can’t really be thinking of letting Cheng’an marry her, right?”

Gu Kangcheng, his mind buried in work, didn’t care much. “If they marry, they marry. Dad personally arranged it—what’s there to say?”

“What do you mean, ‘if they marry, they marry’?” Qian Jingfang was displeased. Why wasn’t this man standing on her side? “This is exactly the kind of feudal tradition we were supposed to be done with. A few years back when they were smashing the Four Olds, it was all the rage—now we’re back to arranged marriages? I don’t agree!”

“Then go tell Dad yourself.” Gu Kangcheng straightened his military uniform, looking in the mirror. His upright posture and stern demeanor carried seven or eight parts of the authority his father, Gu Hongkai, possessed.

Qian Jingfang: “…”

If she dared say it directly, would she still be talking to her husband about it now?

“Anyway, let’s just wait and see. I just don’t know what that little girl is thinking. I’m worried she’s dead set on marrying in…”

“Don’t worry about it. Just listen to Dad on this one.” Gu Kangcheng was in a hurry to get to the military district to handle official business. “Otherwise, what? You planning to kick her out?”

“Am I that kind of person?” Qian Jingfang shot him another look. “It’s no big deal to have another young girl in the house, as long as my son’s marriage isn’t sacrificed.”

After whispering with her husband for a while, Qian Jingfang left the house with Su Yin. Her expression showed no trace of displeasure.

“Come on, let’s get you a few sets of clothes. Young girls like you can pull off anything—no matter what you wear, you’ll look lovely.”

Following Qian Jingfang, Su Yin arrived at the nearest supply and marketing cooperative by the military compound. The four-front store was filled with goods stacked high and crammed into every corner.

“Five feet of plain white floral fabric. Five feet of that black cotton. And the water-red twill on the wall—six feet…”

Qian Jingfang’s attitude toward Su Yin was subtle: on the one hand, she hoped the girl wouldn’t set her sights on her son; on the other, she couldn’t help but pity this orphan.

And once she’d brought the girl out to buy clothes, as the mother of an only son, she suddenly felt a little like she was dressing up a daughter.

Due to complications during childbirth, Qian Jingfang couldn’t conceive again after having Gu Cheng’an. Other families had several children; theirs was the only one with an only son.

She’d once thought how nice it would be to have a daughter to dress up in pretty clothes.

“Auntie, this is too much.” Su Yin couldn’t refuse the Gu family’s kindness, so she silently took note of the prices, planning to repay the favor someday.

“It’s not much. You’re young—it’s exactly the time to look your best.” Worried the girl was overthinking, Qian Jingfang added, “They don’t regulate clothing as strictly as a few years ago. Wear it without worry. Come on, let’s get you measured at the tailor’s.”

….

Two days later, the tailor delivered Su Yin’s new clothes—three sets of bright, soft-textured tops and pants. On her, they were even more stunning. Aunt Wu stared for a long time, thinking she looked even better than the well-bred girls of the compound.

By mid-July, the heat was unbearable, the scorching sun baking the earth. Su Yin finally found a chance—using the excuse of accompanying Aunt Wu to buy pastries—to leave the military compound.

The streets of the capital were clean and wide. Countless “28” bicycles wove through traffic with their cheerful bells; workers in blue overalls made up the majority. Political slogans were painted in bold colors on the walls.

Su Yin wanted to buy paper and pens from the supply store, so she arranged to meet Aunt Wu at the door of Fuhuazhai in twenty minutes and went off on her own.

Next year’s college entrance exam was her top priority—she had to start preparing now.

Her grades in high school had been good, and her teachers had all praised her. If the exams had been in place, she would’ve surely gotten into a good university—it was a shame they’d been suspended.

Fortunately, they were about to be reinstated.

She entered the southern supply and marketing cooperative and scanned its eight counters, looking for stationery.

“Su Yin?”

“Song Yuan?”

They had met briefly on the train and still remembered each other.

“Didn’t think we’d actually run into each other again.”

After chatting for a while, Su Yin—mindful of the time—spent fifteen cents on a notebook and a fountain pen, made plans to meet Song Yuan again, and left.

Instead of heading straight to Fuhuazhai, she turned toward her next destination. Asking for directions along the way, she finally arrived at the southern post office.

She had thought it through carefully: her savings were limited. Living at the Gu house without contributing didn’t sit right with her—she had to find a way.

The only thing that would allow her to study while earning some money was submitting articles for the newspapers’ paid contributions.

“Comrade, are there any newspapers available right now?”

Without looking up, the post office worker replied impatiently, “Only the Provincial Daily. Last copy.”

“How much is it?”

“Eight cents.”

Su Yin inwardly winced. That was as much as a bowl of plain noodles at a state-owned restaurant. In her nineteen years, she’d only eaten at one once—on her eighteenth birthday, when her grandfather had taken her. “I’ll take it.”

Leaving the post office with the only remaining copy of the Provincial Daily, she unfolded it as she walked, scanning quickly. Sure enough, in the bottom right corner, she spotted the call for submissions, complete with the theme and mailing address.

Perfect!

Carrying the newspaper, she met Aunt Wu at Fuhuazhai. Seeing the two bags of pastries in Aunt Wu’s hands, she hurried to take them.

…

Not long after that last copy of the Provincial Daily was sold, two men came into the post office asking specifically for it.

“Comrade, this issue’s already sold out.” The clerk glanced at them—good grief. In this day and age, everyone idolized soldiers, and even if they hadn’t served, they’d try to get a uniform to wear. But these two… their uniforms were brand-new, and the way they carried themselves was clearly out of the ordinary.

“Already gone? How come neither of the other two post offices has it either…” Han Qingwen pressed for details.

“Yeah, a female comrade bought the last copy maybe ten minutes ago.”

Gu Cheng’an shot Han Qingwen a look, and the two left together. “Forget it. Let’s look elsewhere.”

“All right, I’ll go check the east side post office.” Han Qingwen was about to head out when he smirked. “You’d better hurry home—go meet your—”

He stopped short when Gu Cheng’an sent him a sharp, unamused look. Suppressing his laugh, he changed his words: “—before the old man chews you out.”

Gu Cheng’an had been staying at Han Qingwen’s place for three days. That morning, Liu Maoyuan had finally caught him and delivered the old man’s message: he was to come home tonight, no excuses.

Gu Cheng’an knew all too well his grandfather’s level of tolerance. Today, he really had no choice but to come home and show his face. Still, the thought of some so-called childhood betrothal waiting at home left him feeling thoroughly irritable.

Pedaling his trusty “28-bar” bicycle at full speed, he darted into the military compound. As he neared the small building where his family lived, he spotted a familiar figure ahead—Aunt Wu, the family’s housekeeper—carrying a cloth bag and heading straight through the front gate.

Following behind her was a slender figure he didn’t recognize. She carried a cloth bag in one hand and a folded newspaper in the other. The bold red characters “Provincial Capital” printed on the fold caught his eye.

Su Yin and Aunt Wu arrived at the Gu household one after the other. Su Yin had just been about to ask after Grandpa Gu’s health when the sharp ring-ring-ring of a bicycle bell suddenly cut through the air—reckless and loud.

She turned to see a tall “28-bar” bike glide to a stop right in front of her, the rider bringing with him a rush of wind. He was so close she could clearly see the cool detachment in his eyes and the sharp lines of his face.

Dark, glossy pupils fixed on her. Gu Cheng’an glanced once at the newspaper in her hand and jerked his chin toward it.

“Let me see that newspaper.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a statement.