Chapter 14

L City had grown colder. The kang was warm, though the fire wasn’t strong, yet the room remained cozy.

Wen Ning sat cross-legged on the kang for the first time, initially a bit stiff. After all, such a posture would have been absolutely forbidden in her former home.

It was unbecoming of a proper young lady—let alone a princess.

But now, surrounded by approachable military wives who sat freely in the same way, Wen Ning gradually relaxed.

Truth be told, this position was quite comfortable.

She wiggled her toes contentedly, then turned to find Lu Cheng standing in the doorway.

“Regimental Commander Lu!” Wen Ning waved, her eyes gleaming like the moon as she held a handful of sunflower seeds. “Want some sunflower seeds?”

“You can have them,” Lu Cheng replied, surprised to see Wen Ning getting along so well with the other wives.

He had heard Wen Ning’s reputation in the village wasn’t good—spoiled and quick-tempered. Had she truly changed?

As dinnertime approached, the other wives hurried home to prepare their meals, and Sister Luo bustled about, showing off her culinary skills in her own kitchen.

“Sister Luo, your knife work is amazing!”

“The shredded meat is all the same size too!”

“This oil smells so fragrant,” Wen Ning said.

Wen Ning couldn’t cook, but she knew a full stomach softened tongues. She showered Sister Luo with compliments, so much so that Sister Luo’s eyes narrowed into slits.

While serving the dishes, Sister Luo secretly whispered to her husband, “Xiao Lu’s wife is such a sweet girl. She’s nothing like Xiao Yang described—scheming and ruthless. It must all be lies!”

Huang nodded. “Whatever happened last year, there must be more to it. Let’s not dwell on the past. As long as they’re happy now, that’s all that matters.”

“Exactly!”

The setting sun cast a golden glow across the hillside, draping it like a shimmering brocade robe. Inside Political Commissar Huang’s living room, the atmosphere was lively and warm.

Brother Huang was thirty-eight, and Sister Luo thirty-seven. Their children were grown: their eighteen-year-old son was away in the army as a new recruit, and their twelve-year-old daughter was still in middle school.

Wen Ning and Lu Cheng sat with the Huang family, making it feel like a gathering of two families.

“Go ahead and try it. My cooking is nothing special, so don’t stand on ceremony,” Sister Luo urged.

“Sister Luo, what are you saying?” Wen Ning smiled, her radiance like moonlight on stardust. “It smells heavenly!”

Lu Cheng, who had been drinking with Huang, glanced at Wen Ning upon hearing this, then quietly set down his glass.

The dining table was laden with dishes. Knowing this was Wen Ning’s first proper meal here, Sister Luo had cooked a grass carp, stir-fried wild vegetables with meat, prepared two cold dishes, and steamed a basket of cornbread buns—a truly lavish spread.

Little Sister Huang ate her food, her eyes darting sideways to steal glances at Wen Ning. She’s not at all like Lu Kangyun described, she thought.

“Yuexia, look at your sister-in-law Wen Ning! Her table manners are impeccable. You should learn from her,” Sister Luo said. As a mother, she wished her daughter would emulate Wen Ning’s grace and poise.

Huang Yuexia looked up. Indeed, Wen Ning ate with an elegance that was, as the saying went, pleasing to the eye. “I understand,” she replied.

Wen Ning glanced at Sister Luo’s daughter, who was only thirteen—the same age as her own younger cousin. The realization brought a pang of sadness.

After the meal, Wen Ning, her stomach full, left with Lu Cheng to return home. The night was late, and in the dim darkness, only the rustling wind could be heard, shaking the fallen leaves back and forth.

“Commander Lu, should we go to the county town tomorrow? I heard from some of the women that there’s a department store there with all sorts of things.”

Lu Cheng realized for the first time just how troublesome his wife could be. It had only been one day, and she still hadn’t settled down even after dinner.

“Why do you want to go to the department store? We bought plenty of things at the supply and marketing cooperative today.”

“Commander Lu, I heard the department store has snow cream! It’s wonderful for women’s faces—so fragrant and moisturizing.” Wen Ning couldn’t help but complain to the Great General about the hardships she’d endured since transmigrating.

No one in this world has suffered more than me. “I need to buy a jar. Look how rough my skin is—it’s practically cracked from the wind!”

Worried Lu Cheng wouldn’t believe her, Wen Ning stood on tiptoe and thrust her right cheek toward him, her delicate hand gently stroking the smooth skin as if to emphasize its supposed deterioration.

The scolding Lu Cheng had been about to deliver died in his throat. His gaze followed Wen Ning’s slender fingers to her jade-like cheek—snow-white, soft, and delicate. There wasn’t a hint of roughness to be seen.

“See? My face even hurts a little. Isn’t it red from the wind?” Wen Ning pressed closer when he remained silent, only for Lu Cheng to abruptly step back.

Lu Cheng’s face hardened as he sternly rebuked her, “Enough! Stand properly. Buy that cream yourself.”

The kang in the east room burned warmly as Wen Ning hunched over her desk, meticulously writing a letter to her mother to reassure her of her safety.

In her former life, she had been tutored by scholars from the Imperial Academy at Duke Zhenguo’s Manor, excelling in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Her brushwork was particularly refined.

But arriving here, she was bewildered. People rarely used traditional writing brushes, instead, they used pens she had never seen before, with stiff metal nibs unlike the soft bristles of her familiar brushes. They called them “steel pens.”

Fortunately, her decade of calligraphy practice allowed her to manage the steel pen, though the unfamiliar strokes displeased her. Wen Ning eyed the characters on the letter with disdain. In her own era, her tutor would have criticized them mercilessly.

“Your handwriting is quite good,” Lu Cheng said, placing a quilt and pillow on the kang in the east room. Turning to speak to Wen Ning, he noticed her writing first. It was better than that of many high school students in the city.

Wen Ning scrutinized her own handwriting, then turned to Lu Cheng with a wordless expression. His standards must be low, she thought. This is far below my actual skill, yet he praises it.

It seems Commander Lu’s own handwriting must be quite poor.

“It’s alright,” Wen Ning said, choosing not to call him out. After all, he was a soldier, and it was common for them to have poor handwriting.

Glancing at the cotton quilt and pillow on the kang, she asked curiously, “Why is there only one pillow?”

“It’s yours,” Lu Cheng replied, having just unpacked his bedding. “Mine’s in the west room. Call me if you need anything.”

Wen Ning stared in shock as Lu Cheng strode away. His last words, Call me if you need anything, sounded almost considerate.

That jerk is making us sleep in separate rooms!

Setting down her pen, Wen Ning recalled the plot of the novel. When the original Wen Ning had followed Lu Cheng to the military base, she’d made a fool of herself on the first day. Not only had Jiang Rong gossiped about her behind her back, but she’d also clashed with Lu Cheng’s younger siblings.

Later, she’d been rude to Sister Luo, who had tried to comfort her, and Political Commissar Huang, further alienating Lu Cheng.

As a result, burdened by both old grievances and new annoyances, Lu Cheng hadn’t even unpacked his luggage or offered any explanation before retreating to the west room to sleep. Afterward, he’d completely ignored her.

Wen Ning glared at the tightly shut door across the room and huffed softly. Fine, separate rooms it is! I don’t care! This kang is huge—all mine!

On her first night at the military family compound, Wen Ning slept soundly on the warm kang bed, waking up feeling cozy from head to toe.

The morning’s lingering warmth filled her with delight as she stroked the kang’s surface, murmuring, “Amazing! I never knew it could be like this.”

Lu Cheng had one more day of leave before reporting back to his unit, so Wen Ning was determined to make the most of it by having him take her into town.

After Lu Cheng returned from his morning run, he steamed buns and cooked porridge. Once they finished eating, Wen Ning tossed her beautiful braided pigtails and went back inside. “Hurry up and wash the dishes and tidy up,” she called out. “I’ll put on some clam oil, and we can leave early.”

L Province was known for its strong winds, and Wen Ning’s face already stung from the morning’s gusts. Fortunately, Mother Wen had bought her daughter clam oil, which Wen Ning applied sparingly to moisturize her skin.

As the sound of running water filled the courtyard, Lu Cheng washed the dishes and suddenly realized: What exactly does my wife do?

She always wanted the best, spent money lavishly, and now that they were home, she hadn’t even washed a single dish. Yet she seemed perfectly comfortable ordering him around.

After placing the clean dishes in the upper cabinet, Lu Cheng’s expression darkened further. What am I even doing right now?

“You…” Lu Cheng, determined to reassert his authority as head of the household, was about to lecture Wen Ning when she cut him off.

“Oh no,” Wen Ning’s voice drifted from the outhouse, tinged with distress. “Commander Lu, I forgot to buy something. Could you ask Sister Luo to come over?”

Lu Cheng couldn’t imagine what could be so urgent that it required fetching Sister Luo. “Sister Luo’s family left early this morning. What do you need? We can get it at the department store later.”

Wen Ning’s voice sounded muffled and listless. “No, I need it now.”

“Then I’ll go. What is it?” Lu Cheng sensed something was wrong; her usual energy was conspicuously absent.

“Menstrual pads,” Wen Ning whispered the words, biting her lip in embarrassment. She tried to reassure herself: He’s my husband, the Great General. It’s fine for him to buy them.

Lu Cheng: ?

Fifteen minutes later, Lu Cheng strode back inside. The usually composed regimental commander’s tanned face looked distinctly awkward. His crisp military uniform accentuated his upright posture, but his left hand, clutching the item, remained stiff as a board.

“Here.” Lu Cheng knocked on the door and slipped the hot potato through the crack into the delicate jade hand reaching out. Only then did he exhale in relief.