Chapter 36.2

“Is that so?” Wen Xin couldn’t hide her disappointment, but she still smiled and handed the lunchbox bag to Political Commissar Ye. “Here, don’t mind the simplicity. I won’t take it back, consider it an extra meal.”

“This…” Political Commissar Ye hesitated as he saw her extending the bag. “Well, thank you, Comrade Wen Xin. As soon as Regiment Commander Yan returns, I’ll let him know you came to deliver lunch.”

Wen Xin nodded and turned to leave, glancing back repeatedly as she walked away.

Political Commissar Ye returned to the regiment commander’s office. Yan Zeyang was writing a report. Clearing his throat seriously, Ye placed the lunchbox on the desk with a thud. “Your lunch. You called me back just to make me send her away, didn’t you? She left, but she kept looking back the whole way, her eyes red.”

As he spoke, Yan Zeyang’s Adam’s apple moved slightly, but his expression remained unchanged, and his pen never stopped.

“Writing a self-criticism? Serves you right! Do you know what kind of state you left that guy in? That injury will take at least three months to heal!” Political Commissar Ye had only learned later that Yan had beaten someone up. Apparently, his father had called him into the office. No one knew exactly what was said, but the guards reported that they’d never seen the commander that furious before. He’d reprimanded Yan Zeyang for half an hour, questioning whether all the years of training from the Party and the people were meant for him to assault someone so severely that they ended up hospitalized for three months.

However, after some inquiries, Ye found out that the victim hadn’t dared to press charges—probably out of guilt. Still, a soldier attacking a civilian wasn’t a trivial matter. Yan Zeyang had been confined for a day and forced to write a self-criticism, and that was the end of it. In truth, even if his father hadn’t intervened, the military district always protected its own. A soldier hitting a civilian? That was rare. But if the target was a thug or a scoundrel…

Everyone would want a piece of them.

Still, hardly anyone knew the real reason behind the incident.

“Forget it. You don’t look like you’re going to eat this anyway. Wen Xin said I could have it as an extra meal, so I’m taking it.” Political Commissar Ye made a show of picking up the lunchbox and leaving. Yan didn’t react at all.

This made Ye Jianzhou even more puzzled. The marriage report had already been submitted—so what went wrong now? He had no clue. And if he didn’t even know the issue, how was he supposed to mediate? He shook his head and returned to his own office, ready to enjoy his meal. The food was rich in color, aroma, and flavor—delicious beyond words.

…

“Wen Xin, what’s wrong? Are you in a bad mood?” Even Yang Hemiao, the tailor shop assistant, noticed that Wen Xin seemed down. She hadn’t been her usual cheerful self these past few days. Though she still came by the shop daily, she no longer laughed and chatted as before, always looking a little unhappy.

“It’s nothing.” Wen Xin, frustrated, kicked the table leg. Ever since that day, Yan Zeyang hadn’t returned home for several days—something that had never happened before. Even He Wenyan had mentioned that he rarely stayed away for this long. He always made sure to come back for his sister, Yan Miaomiao, to prevent her from being bullied.

Could it really be that the military had assigned him a task? If so, he should have at least told her. Even if the mission was confidential, he could have said something about not being able to return.

Even Miaomiao missed her brother, constantly asking when he would come back.

Wen Xin had a strong feeling that his sudden disappearance had to do with the way he’d lost his temper that day. Did he think she was too casual? Or had someone told him something? If something was bothering him, why didn’t he just say it? Instead, he vanished for days, leaving her no way to even find him and ask.

Miaomiao cried for her brother last night.

And she missed him too.

She knew that this feeling meant she was in love. How could someone in love not think about their partner? Unable to resist, she packed another meal and headed to the military district again.

This time, the sentry reported her arrival, and Political Commissar Ye came out quickly.

“Comrade Wen Xin, here again?” He led her outside the gate before speaking. “Regiment Commander Yan, he…” He hesitated when he saw her expectant eyes shining at him. “He’s… still on a mission and hasn’t returned yet. You might have to wait a little longer.”

“Is he avoiding me?” she asked.

“No, no, why would he avoid you? You’re overthinking it. Just go back and don’t worry.”

“Alright then.” Disappointed, Wen Xin handed him the lunchbox, unable to say anything more.

Political Commissar Ye returned to the regiment commander’s office, where he found Yan Zeyang standing by the window, smoking. His gaze was distant, staring out through the glass at something unknown.

“If you’d just tell me what’s going on between you two, I could help mediate. Comrade Wen Xin has come again and again. If you have something to say, just tell her straight. This kind of avoidance… it’s really immature.”

Of course, no explanation came.

That evening, Political Commissar Ye mentioned the matter to his wife.

“He probably can’t bring himself to say it in person, but he also can’t bear to break up. What else could it be? It must be something about the girl.” His wife sighed. “Your Regiment Commander Yan is quite pitiful. He’s in his late twenties and never had a serious relationship before. Finally, he found someone, they were about to get married, and now it’s all stalled. He won’t even go home, just staying at the office every day. If I’d known it would end up like this, he should have married the girl I introduced to him instead. She’s already had a big, healthy baby boy in her first year of marriage, and now she’s pregnant again—”

“Enough, enough! The one you introduced? That broad face? Even I didn’t think she was good enough. You haven’t seen this one—she’s really beautiful. Delicate and charming.”

His wife scoffed, “Hmph! Beauty doesn’t put food on the table. What’s the use of being delicate? You military men always go after pretty faces. But do you think those girls will be content to stay at home? One day, she’ll run off, and you won’t even know it.”

“Run off? Stop talking nonsense!”

…

At around seven in the evening, Political Commissar Ye carried a meal his wife had prepared and headed back to the military district. The sentry, recognizing him, let him in. The regiment commander’s office was still lit.

When he pushed open the door, he saw Yan Zeyang sitting on the sofa. His uniform had been tossed aside, his shirt was partially unbuttoned, and he was drinking—one glass after another. On the table, there were already two bottles of white liquor. One was completely empty.

Political Commissar Ye rushed over and snatched the remaining bottle away. “What the hell are you doing? Do you still remember you’re a soldier? Two bottles of this stuff—do you have a death wish?”

He saw Yan Zeyang lift his head to look at him, his eyes red. In just a few days, the man had visibly lost weight—so much that his features looked almost gaunt.

Sighing, Political Commissar Ye set the lunchbox in front of him. “My wife made chicken stew. Eat something.”

Back when Yan Zeyang had trouble finding a partner, Ye Jianzhou had been so worried he nearly lost all his hair. He had even been exasperated, thinking, This kid is so picky, acting like it doesn’t matter if he has a woman or not. Fine, let’s see what kind of person he finally chooses. Just don’t end up falling head over heels for someone who doesn’t even want you.

But karma came fast. He hadn’t even married yet, and already, a strong man of 1.85 meters was being tormented into a complete wreck.

Political Commissar Ye stayed with him until midnight, only leaving after making sure he had fallen asleep. He was truly worried something might happen to him in this state. The Yan family had only this one son—no matter how harshly Commander Yan reprimanded him, how could he not feel distressed?

…

That night, Wen Xin brought in the freshly washed clothes, folding them neatly—especially Yan Zeyang’s. Since they had gotten together, sometimes he washed his own clothes, but other times, she did it for him. She carefully folded two of his shirts and placed them in the wardrobe.

Looking at his precisely folded military blanket, Wen Xin felt a pang of sadness. She just couldn’t understand—why had everything been so sweet before, yet now everything had changed? She hadn’t even seen him, let alone received an explanation. Was it just because she had hesitated when answering that question? Was she not even allowed to take a moment to think?

When He Wenyan came home that evening, she was holding a large envelope, its seal firmly closed. She handed it to Wen Xin. “This was sent by a guard on behalf of Weiguo. He said he doesn’t oppose your marriage to Zeyang, but he hopes to receive an explanation for something.”

Wen Xin’s heart sank. She reached out to take the envelope, a growing sense of unease filling her. What could be so serious that it required such a formal message? If it were about her family, the Yan family had known about them from the start—there was no need to bring it up now. If Yan Weiguo was asking in such a way, then this matter must be far from ordinary.

“Wen Xin, what exactly happened? Why does Weiguo need an explanation from you?” Even He Wenyan sensed something was wrong. That question carried weight. For a young girl like Wen Xin, Yan Weiguo normally wouldn’t speak so harshly. Yet now, he was demanding an explanation—this was no small matter.

Wen Xin forced a smile. “Auntie, I don’t know either. Let me take a look.” She tore open the envelope.

Being an intellectual, He Wenyan was curious, but she didn’t pry. Instead, she went to her room to put her purse away. Back when Wen Xin had first come to work as a housemaid, He Wenyan had locked up all her money and ration tickets to prevent theft. Even now, she maintained that habit.

Meanwhile, Wen Xin, eager to understand the situation, hurriedly unfolded the contents of the envelope. Inside were three pages, torn from some sort of notebook. At first glance, they seemed like a man’s private fantasies, written like a diary.

But as she read further, her unease grew. The woman in the diary was called “Wen Xin.” The man addressed as “A’Li.”

A bad feeling surged through her.

Flipping to the third page, she saw a date. This supposedly happened two years ago, when the original Wen Xin was sixteen.

Suddenly, it all became clear.

She had transmigrated into this novel. If Song Qian had written Wen Xin into the story purely out of spite, then naturally, she would have been portrayed in the worst possible way.

How could this female supporting character have had a happy childhood? That was never in the plan. Though the book hadn’t dwelled too much on her early years, there were hints of hardship throughout.

The original Wen Xin had not lived a good life. Unloved by her parents, she was raised under the strict discipline of an elderly palace maid who had once served in the imperial court. The love she received was extremely limited. According to the diary, at sixteen, she had supposedly had an affair with this “A’Li” person.

In this era, at that age, such a thing was scandalous.

No wonder.

No wonder there had been that scene in the novel where the supporting female character was forced into prostitution. Her first client had cursed her, calling her a wretch and demanding his money back, claiming she was not even a virgin.

So this was the hidden foreshadowing.

In the original book, the supporting female character had no connection to the male lead whatsoever. Forget marriage—she probably hadn’t even exchanged glances with him. So naturally, none of this drama had ever happened. But once Wen Xin transmigrated here, unknowingly stepping into a relationship with the male lead and preparing to marry him, his father had obviously done a background check on her.

What should have remained a buried subplot had now come to light—because “A’Li” had written about it in his diary. And now, these pages had ended up in Wen Xin’s hands.

She was furious.

Just because of these three pages, Yan Zeyang had believed it?

She had never been with this so-called A’Li. She had never whispered sweet words to him, never seduced him—she didn’t even know what he looked like!

These were merely the designs of the author. Song Qian had written her fate this way.

Her fingers clenched tightly around the papers.

Yan Weiguo had asked her for an explanation. If the situation had been one of coercion, then perhaps there was still hope for her and Yan Zeyang. The Yan family was upright; if she were a victim, they would not hold it against her. Maybe, from a man’s perspective, they would even feel sympathy for her.

But the diary’s contents described a willing relationship—mutual affection. The way this man had written about it was sickening.

She couldn’t bear to imagine how Yan Zeyang—so upright, so rigid in his principles—had reacted after reading these words.

Her heart ached with frustration, her eyes growing red.

She was the female supporting character. The supporting character was her.

But at the same time, she wasn’t.

She wasn’t that girl.

Yet how could she explain this?

That they were all characters in a novel? That she had transmigrated from the real world? That she and the supporting character were not the same person, just identical in appearance?

How was she supposed to make him believe her?

Even if she told someone from the real world, they would think she was insane, let alone people from this era.

She felt utterly wronged—so much so that she could explode. Never had she imagined that Song Qian had planted such a hidden plot twist. The female supporting character in this novel had suffered too much—an unfortunate childhood, being deceived into a life of prostitution, and a tragic ending. Now that she had transmigrated into this world, to everyone here, she was that female supporting character. They were one and the same.

And now, the past of this female supporting character had suddenly surfaced. A casual plot detail left by Song Qian had now created an unbridgeable chasm between her and the male lead.

Would a man as proud as Yan Zeyang accept a woman with such a past? The fact that he hadn’t returned in four or five days was already his answer.

When He Wenyan came out, she saw Wen Xin still standing by the door, eyes red. She asked what had happened.

Wen Xin shook her head. “It’s nothing, Auntie.” Then, she turned and walked into the kitchen, stuffing the papers into the stove, watching them burn to ashes.

—

The next morning, she went to the military district.

She didn’t bring a lunchbox, nor did she ask the sentry to report her arrival. She simply stood outside the gate, gazing into the military compound, where soldiers were training.

The sentry, who knew about her relationship with the regiment commander, saw her standing there looking again and again. He smiled and said warmly, “Comrade, you should come at noon. The regiment commander and the political commissar are in a meeting right now.”

Wen Xin replied, “It’s okay. There’s nothing important.”

As she turned to leave, her eyes were red. She looked back several times. She had only come to see him one last time.

Now she understood.

She had spent the whole night thinking. In the end, she decided to leave. Today, she had only come to say a silent farewell.

She knew she couldn’t explain this situation, nor did she have any reason to stay in the Yan household any longer. She had her pride. She could love someone passionately, but she would never beg, nor would she cling on foolishly.

As she walked back, the wind picked up, and rain began to fall, drop by drop, soaking her clothes and hair.

She returned to the Yan household and packed her clothes into her bags and suitcase. Only when there was no trace of her presence left in the room did she place a letter on the table.

At first, she wanted to take off the watch on her wrist, but she hesitated. She couldn’t bear to part with it. After much thought, she decided to keep it as a memento—proof that he had once loved her.

Perhaps, one day, when she had finally let go of this love and completely moved on, she would send it back to him.

But by then, he probably wouldn’t even want to see it anymore.

Through the misty rain, Wen Xin boarded a southbound train. Sitting by the green train window, she gazed at the endless sky, blurred by the falling rain.

Once again, she was wandering alone.

Tears of farewell streamed down her face.

Goodbye, Beijing.

Goodbye, the man I once loved.