Chapter 1

“Nancheng Station has arrived. Passengers, please gather your luggage and prepare to disembark.”

“The northbound train departs at 2:30. Passengers, please begin ticket checks.”

Sheng Huan followed the crowd off the train. The surrounding environment made her scalp tingle, and her delicate brows furrowed slightly.

The brick-and-tile station bathed in the twilight glow had a distinct vintage atmosphere. The walls were mottled, and the mechanical female voice over the broadcast was hoarse and unpleasant.

No automation, no electronic screens—even the ticket inspectors were using old metal punchers to clip the corners of tickets.

People on the platform dressed plainly: the men mostly wore Mao suits or work pants, while the women wore thick qipaos or cloth garments, carrying bamboo baskets and burlap sacks—some even had live poultry in hand.

Was this really a high-tech future experience, or had she time-traveled back to the 1970s or 80s?

She had signed up for a futuristic lunar experience—not some retro nostalgia trip! And she had spent $200,000 on this!

Zero stars!

Determined to end this “terrible” moon journey immediately, she raised her hand to reach for the hairclip on her head. Suddenly, a shadow loomed before her. Someone grabbed her wrist, pulled hard, and yanked her into a solid embrace.

Sweat, wind, leather… and sandalwood?
A soldier?

Narrowing her fox-like eyes, she leaned in slightly and took a subtle sniff. Her cute little nose twitched. Yep—faint smell of military uniform.

She caught sight of an olive green jacket, military rank on the shoulder, and a bright red insignia at the collar.

Her gaze drifted downward to a wide leather belt cinched at the waist—a surprisingly narrow waist packed with strength.

Further down—wow. His long legs, wrapped in crisp military pants, stood tall like spears. His black combat boots hit the ground with such power that even the dust didn’t dare to rise.

Her heart skipped a beat.

A soldier-boy?
She prayed his looks wouldn’t ruin the perfect image.

She blinked her long lashes, inhaled, and lifted her charming fox-like eyes—

Before her stood a cold, stern face. Sharp, clean features. Deep black eyes like ink. High nose bridge. A firm jawline.

He looked like a poster boy for justice: handsome, cool, mature, with a powerful aura of righteousness radiating from him.

The moment she saw his face, she froze.

It seemed… familiar somehow. But she couldn’t quite place where she’d seen him before.

Sheng Huan bit her red lips.
“Handsome, your pickup technique is ancient!”

Shen Beichuan narrowed his eyes slightly, ignoring her sarcasm. When he saw her dazed stare, his sword-like brows knitted together.

“With all these people coming and going, what are you spacing out for?” he snapped and began dragging her toward the exit.

“What are you doing?!” Sheng Huan protested. She disliked this so-called soldier’s rough and outdated flirting—his hands were too rough, his grip too strong, and it hurt.

Just then, the rumble of another train filled the air. A green train pulled in, puffing thick black smoke. The harsh smell of coal made her wrinkle her nose.

“Cough cough… Let go of me!” she shouted, trying to break free.

But the man in the military uniform didn’t flinch. With no expression, he kept dragging her along.

Panic rose in Sheng Huan’s heart. She screamed loudly:
“Help! Human trafficker! He’s kidnapping me!”

She thought she heard that “human trafficker” let out a faint snort of amusement.

Her cries drew a crowd. A ticket inspector rushed over.
“Comrade, please show your identification.”

The man calmly took out a large award certificate, a little booklet, and an old black-and-white ID photo and handed them over.

Sheng Huan craned her neck to look—and her delicate brows creased.

The award certificate was a marriage certificate with her name clearly written on it.
And the husband’s name? Her fiancé’s.

Beside it was a military officer’s ID, which boldly stated:
Shen Beichuan.

And the yellowing photo?
It looked like her middle school photo.

The inspector carefully checked everything, returned the documents to Shen Beichuan, and nodded for them to pass.

“……” Sheng Huan was stunned. Completely baffled.
She never signed up for any ‘experience married life in advance’ add-on service!

She and Shen Beichuan were only engaged through an arranged marriage, never even met in person! The marriage agreement he mailed her clearly stated they’d treat each other with respect, then divorce when the time was right.
So how were they already legally married?!

And where the hell was this place?

Old, dusty, and broken-down… it really looked like the 1980s.

No—maybe she was dreaming on the space shuttle. Her eyes rolled around, then she suddenly kicked at the man beside her.

“Ow—!”
But before he reacted, she yelped first, face twisted in pain.

The pain told her:
Not a dream.

Meanwhile, Shen Beichuan, the man she kicked, didn’t even flinch. He just kept dragging her forward.

Sheng Huan panicked. Her head was spinning.
“You from the Shen family, tell me—what year is it now?”

Before he could answer, a voice chimed in from the side:
“Boss, is this our sister-in-law?”

Another soldier appeared, grinning as he looked at her with teasing eyes.

Qin Chaoyang, who had once heard about Sheng Huan from Shen Beichuan’s sister Shen Xinxin, thought she was supposed to be gentle and soft-spoken.
So why was she kicking people?

Shen Beichuan nodded slightly.

Qin Chaoyang joked:
“Boss, her way of calling you is really… unique. Can I call you that too from now on?”

Shen Beichuan shot him a cold glance.
“Tired of living?”

Qin Chaoyang immediately backed off and went to start the car, tossing a final line:
“Sister-in-law, the year is 1980.”

1980?!

At that moment, Sheng Huan suddenly recalled—just before entering the launch pod, she’d seen her friend Jiang Dandan sneak into the control room.

That troublemaker must’ve pressed the wrong button and sent her into some parallel modern-historical world!

Sheng Huan’s eyes turned icy.
Jiang Dandan, I’m going to kill you!

She swore in her heart. Then she remembered—her only way back was the hairclip.

She shook off Shen Beichuan’s hand and frantically searched her hair.

She’d clearly felt it at the station earlier—how could it be gone now?!

She kept searching and searching, her fingers combing her hair until her once-elegant hairstyle turned into a tangled bird’s nest.

Shen Beichuan stood beside her, watching her act like a lunatic, wrecking her hair. His brows slowly furrowed into a deep crease.

He finally said quietly,
“You from the Sheng family.”

But Sheng Huan didn’t hear. Her whole world had collapsed into Operation: Find the Hairclip.

People all around were pointing and staring.

“Is she crazy?”
“She looks normal, why is she clawing at her head?”
“Such a shame, she’s so pretty but clearly mentally ill.”

Shen Beichuan’s expression darkened. Without a word, he moved to stand in front of her, using his tall figure to shield her from the stares.

He called out again, deeper this time:
“Sheng Huan.”

She finally heard him, looking up with a pouty, teary expression:
“It’s all your fault! I lost my hairclip!”

Her soft voice, tinged with sobs, touched him more than all her usual cold politeness.

Shen Beichuan’s brow remained tight. He asked seriously,
“Is it important?”

“Of course it is!” Sheng Huan was so upset her voice trembled.

His gaze darkened. After a pause, he asked quietly:
“A man gave it to you?”

Without thinking, she nodded.

Shen Beichuan’s face turned cold. A wave of suppressed emotion rose in him. He said nothing, just turned around and walked back toward the platform.

Sheng Huan, realizing he was going to help her search, followed.

They searched for half an hour. The pink bunny hairclip was nowhere to be found.

Sheng Huan slumped into a bench in the waiting area, deflated like a balloon.

Shen Beichuan stood beside her, frowned at her defeated posture, and finally said:
“Later, we’ll go to the state-owned store. I’ll buy you a new one.”

Tears welled up in Sheng Huan’s eyes.
“You don’t understand! It’s not the same!”

Her eyes were filled with despair—like losing that clip was the end of the world.

Shen Beichuan said nothing, his brows drawn tight. After a deep breath, he gave a quiet order:
“It’s late. Come back to the base with me.”

Then he turned and walked off, leaving Sheng Huan sitting alone on the bench.

She looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings and began fixing her hair while thinking:
What kind of era is this?

Reforms had just begun. The college entrance exams were back. Individual businesses were being encouraged…

Shen Beichuan had walked a few steps, noticed she hadn’t followed, and came back.
She didn’t even realize—legs crossed, arms folded, red lips curled up, completely abandoning her previously ladylike demeanor.

Old habits die hard.

Shen Beichuan scoffed inwardly.