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Lu Zhou tried to pull his arm away, but couldn’t, even after several attempts.
So he wrapped his arm around Shen Yihuan’s waist, his voice low and hoarse, with a heavy nasal tone: “Shen Yihuan, get up first.”
“No,” she nuzzled his neck again.
“Sit properly.”
Lu Zhou gripped her wrist, pressing her onto the adjacent seat. Shen Yihuan then clung to his arm, looking as if they were stuck together.
The military medical office was relatively warm. Shen Yihuan had been in the cold wind for a long time outside and was completely cold. As she pressed against Lu Zhou, her chill permeated him.
Lu Zhou shivered a few times, but didn’t move away.
“What’s wrong with you?”
This version of Shen Yihuan was, undoubtedly, unusual at present.
It was more like something she would do when she was in a good mood during high school.
“He Can told me some things just now.” She leaned on his shoulder, face down, her voice muffled, “So I decided, from now on, I’m going to treat you well.”
She spoke earnestly.
Lu Zhou knitted his brows: “What did she tell you?”
Shen Yihuan didn’t answer, rubbing her face against his arm, and said to herself: “I wasn’t good to you before, but from now on, I’ll be especially good to you.”
“Lu Zhou,” she called him softly.
“Hmm?”
“Have you ever experienced doting love?”
Shen Yihuan asked, and without waiting for his answer, she provided her own: “You definitely haven’t. In the future, I will make you experience it, doting love.”
“My doting love.”
Lu Zhou looked at her intently, but said nothing.
He disliked how slow the IV drip was, so he sped up the regulator. The cold liquid entered his veins, making his entire hand icy, and a large bruise appeared on the back of his hand.
Shen Yihuan noticed this and immediately released his arm, afraid her movements would dislodge the needle.
“Why are you so fast?” she glared at him. “Aren’t you cold?”
Lu Zhou was silent for a long moment, then spoke in a level tone: “It’s fine.”
Shen Yihuan hummed softly, her voice muffled in her nose, clearly displeased with what he said.
Without allowing any objection, she adjusted the regulator, slowing down the drip.
She leaned in, burying her head in his shoulder and neck. Her soft long hair brushed against his exposed neck, like a cat that had finally sheathed its claws and was cuddling its master’s arm.
She lowered her voice, murmuring vaguely: “You just hide all your discomfort, don’t tell me. Then how am I supposed to know? Hmph, I don’t care what you’ve been through, but now I’m going to be very good to you.”
He slowly lowered his gaze, opening his mouth amidst the chaos, but stumbling over his words, unable to utter a single sound.
He loved Shen Yihuan tremblingly, walking on thin ice, without hope.
He was like a wasteland, and Shen Yihuan was the only lighthouse on it.
Then he heard Shen Yihuan say—
“I will like you very much from now on.”
...
He didn’t know why he liked Shen Yihuan so much.
To be honest, Shen Yihuan had too many flaws: she was self-righteous, loved to lie, was delicate and willful, and irresponsible. Her greatest skill was taking advantage of being spoiled. He wasn’t blind to her shortcomings.
But he just loved her.
She was the only cup of wine he had brewed with his entire youth.
“Does it hurt? Let me rub it for you.”
Shen Yihuan rubbed her palms together until they were warm, then placed them over his cold hand, slowly entwining her fingers with his. Then she tentatively turned her head to look at him.
Lu Zhou looked down at their intertwined hands, not reacting.
The military medical office was very quiet; there was no one else.
He Can hadn’t returned either, perhaps intentionally leaving the space for them.
Shen Yihuan just lay on his shoulder, speaking to him in a soft, muffled voice.
“Does it hurt? Do you want to sleep for a bit? Then I’ll talk to you. What do you want to hear? Just close your eyes and listen to me.”
She prattled on and on, talking about the past and the present, recounting many small incidents that had happened between them, and even muttering a few curses when she reached unhappy parts.
She kept her voice very soft, her mouth close to his ear, like dreamlike ramblings, limited to what only the two of them could hear, as if sealing off these past few years within this small, enclosed space.
The IV drip fell one drop at a time, flowing into his body through the tube and needle.
On its way, it passed through Shen Yihuan’s warm palm, picking up a bit of her temperature.
This feeling was so good, even in dreams it hadn’t been this smooth. Lu Zhou even forgot about his high fever and cold, and whether he would transmit it to Shen Yihuan.
After she finished talking, she started playing with Lu Zhou’s fingers.
His index finger had a thin callus.
Shen Yihuan squeezed it between two fingers, then pinched it twice with her fingernail, muttering, “Other people’s calluses are on their middle finger. Why is yours on your index finger? Is it a scholar’s privilege?”
Lu Zhou: “Gun callus.”
“Hmm?” Shen Yihuan raised an eyebrow in surprise, leaning closer to look.
“Does it hurt?”
“No.”
She maintained her leaning posture, turning to look at Lu Zhou: “How did you get it?”
“Pulling the trigger, rubbing.”
She pursed her lips, lost in thought.
After a while, she asked, “Do you often carry a gun? Kill people?”
Lu Zhou skirted the issue: “This was left over from training. Our training volume is high.”
Shen Yihuan nodded, half-understanding.
After playing with Lu Zhou’s hand for a while, her phone rang.
Shen Yihuan didn’t move. Lu Zhou supported her shoulder: “It’s yours.”
She took out her phone. The screen showed “Gu Minghui” as the caller.
“...”
She immediately turned her head to look at Lu Zhou. He obviously saw it too; his expression was normal, but his gaze darkened.
“...I’ll take this.”
Shen Yihuan thought for a moment, put the military blanket back on Lu Zhou, stood up, and sat on the chair opposite him. Anyway, Lu Zhou still had the needle in his hand, restricting his movement.
She answered and put it on speakerphone: “Hello?”
Gu Minghui’s location was unknown; the wind roared in her ears, even his voice was carried by the wind.
“Did you call me during the day?” Gu Minghui asked.
“...I just wanted to ask if the injury on your face was better.”
Lu Zhou’s eyes deepened.
Gu Minghui: “It’s fine, it wasn’t that serious to begin with.”
Hearing that his injury wasn’t serious, Shen Yihuan felt relieved. Just as she was about to hang up, she heard Gu Minghui say: “I’ll be busy with contract matters these next few days. Take care of yourself. Qiu Ruru will be here in a few days, then we can all get together.”
“Mm,” Shen Yihuan responded.
She looked up, and Lu Zhou’s face was already tinged with vexation.
In addition, his brows were tightly furrowed, as if he was deep in thought.
Gu Minghui was probably outside and still walking; the wind howled past, and he cursed from the cold.
Shen Yihuan exchanged a few casual remarks and hung up.
She walked back to Lu Zhou: “It was Gu Minghui.”
“Mm.”
“Don’t be angry...”
Lu Zhou asked: “Where is he now?”
“I don’t know, he didn’t tell me.”
Lu Zhou’s lips were pressed into a tight, straight line.
Hearing the howling wind and Gu Minghui’s reaction, it sounded like he was in a plateau.
“Stay away from him,” Lu Zhou said.
He wasn’t sure if the faint smell of gunpowder on Gu Minghui was just his imagination or something else, but he was indeed currently a suspect. Lu Zhou had no good feelings towards him, but it was hard for him to accept that Gu Minghui would be involved in such a thing.
Shen Yihuan thought he was just unhappy that she called Gu Minghui.
She sighed, placed her palm on his shoulder, and softly said: “My liking for you is different from how I feel about anyone else.”
She saw Lu Zhou’s pupils contract slightly.
She instinctively held her breath.
After the IV drip was finished, He Can still hadn’t returned.
“Maybe I should go find her,” Shen Yihuan said.
“No need.”
Lu Zhou lifted the military blanket from his body and placed it on a nearby chair. He raised his hand, moving quickly, and directly pulled out the needle from his hand.
“Hey!”
Shen Yihuan gasped softly, quickly pressing on the back of his hand.
It was a large bruise, and blood seeped through the tape and cotton. Shen Yihuan glanced at it, then quickly pressed down firmly.
The wind outside was very cold.
Shen Yihuan held his hand, not letting go. Her hands were red from the cold. She freed one hand, pulled at her sleeve, and pulled Lu Zhou’s hand into her sleeve as well.
Lu Zhou let her press it, not pulling it back.
But he also didn’t hold her hand in return.
________________________________________
The two walked in silence back to Lu Zhou’s dorm.
Shen Yihuan entered the bathroom, soaked a towel in hot water, took Lu Zhou’s hand, and applied it to the bruise.
His skin was fair, and it hadn’t tanned despite the wind and sun here. The IV drip was also so fast, leaving a large, obvious bruise on the back of his hand.
Shen Yihuan held his hand with both of hers, pressing the hot towel firmly on it. Her eyes were downcast, her dark eyelashes thick, looking completely focused.
Lu Zhou watched her intently.
When the towel cooled, Shen Yihuan took it off, frowning: “Why hasn’t it faded at all?”
She said, about to go and reheat the towel, when Lu Zhou grabbed her by the back of her collar after only two steps.
He pulled her back.
Like carrying a chick.
Shen Yihuan stepped back two paces, stopping in front of him.
Lu Zhou frowned and asked her, “What’s wrong with you today, exactly?”
Shen Yihuan blinked.
Lu Zhou rephrased the question: “What did He Can tell you?”
Shen Yihuan didn’t really want to say.
She remembered what He Can told her, about post-war psychological counseling, about captured soldiers. She didn’t even understand what it truly meant, only feeling waves of terror and heartache.
Captured, psychological counseling, then connecting it to the large and small scars on Lu Zhou’s back.
She wanted to know what had happened, but she was also afraid of touching the scars in Lu Zhou’s heart.
“It’s nothing, I just don’t want you to be sad.”
Lu Zhou raised an eyebrow, not understanding the meaning.
He stared at her for a moment, then reached out, rubbing his thumb over her chin: “Don’t overthink things and imagine a bunch of stuff yourself.”
“...”
Was she being criticized...?
So Shen Yihuan spoke.
“He Can just told me that when you first came to this military camp, you went on a very dangerous mission, and after you came back... you even had psychological counseling?”
“Mm,” he admitted.
Shen Yihuan felt an invisible hand gripping her throat.
So, were the scars on his body... really from being tortured?
“The scars on your back, how did you get them?”
“Hmm?” Lu Zhou said, “I was hit with a stick last time. It’s already healed.”
He thought she was asking about the most recent injury.
“What about the others?” Shen Yihuan involuntarily swallowed, her throat moving, “All those scars, where did they come from?”
“Most of them are from the mission He Can told you about. There are also some from the last two years, some are knife wounds, some are bullet wounds. The two types of scars are different.”
Perhaps Lu Zhou’s scholarly aura was too strong.
Even when narrating the story of his scars, he was meticulously precise, speaking as if giving some “Special Academic Report on Various Scar Types.”
His tone was also flat, completely indifferent.
Shen Yihuan quietly widened her eyes, then blinked.
Damn it...
What did he mean, “the two types of scars are different”?
How many injuries had he sustained?
Had he even found a pattern to them?!
She felt heartache.
That was her!
...ex-boyfriend.
Feeling quite insecure.
She pulled at the corner of Lu Zhou’s shirt, tugging it upward: “Take off your shirt, let me see again.”
Lu Zhou gripped her mischievous hand, paused for two seconds, then took off his shirt and turned around, showing Shen Yihuan his back.
Knowing more of the hidden stories behind it, Shen Yihuan’s heart ached with each glance at those scars. She saw two intersecting “cross-shaped” scars, small ones, like those pinched out from mosquito bites.
She pointed with her finger: “This one, how did you get it?”
“What?” Lu Zhou tilted his head, speaking indifferently, “I can’t see it.”
“A cross-shaped scar.”
“It should be a gunshot wound. They cut twice to remove the bullet.”
Shen Yihuan’s mind went blank for a few seconds. A chill spread up her spine.
“Is your job... this dangerous?”
Lu Zhou: “Occasionally.”
She suddenly thought.
On their first day in Xinjiang, their car had stalled on an empty, desolate road.
Lu Zhou had driven over, military boots, camouflage pants, and the words he spoke when shaking hands with Qin Zheng.
—”Hello, I’m Lu Zhou, Captain of the Xinjiang Military Region Border Defense Team.”
As the captain of the border defense team, he wasn’t only responsible for leading charges and combating various illegal activities in the surrounding areas, pursuing, handling border smuggling, trafficking, and transportation of drugs, firearms, and other contraband. Even when nearby areas faced disaster, they were required to conduct tireless rescue efforts.
All sorts of burdens rested on his shoulders.
He had never said a word about it.
Even when talking about his injuries, he spoke indifferently.
As if that blood wasn’t shed from his body, and that pain wasn’t endured by him.
He silently, tirelessly, guarded this land.
Lu Zhou wasn’t good at making friends, but in this largely unknown land, he knew many people: the hotel owner, the supply station owner, and had deep friendships with them.
Shen Yihuan knew nothing of the stories that had transpired behind that.
But she knew they must have been deeply moving.
Lu Zhou had risked his life here, lived isolated and cold in bustling Beijing, and tirelessly guarded the deserted border, passionately and vibrantly.
His obsession with her, and his unspeakable desires, had transformed into blood and sweat here.
Some people, under pressure, would become disheartened, close themselves off, dull their edges, and turn themselves into a ball, making it easier to navigate a bumpy road.
But there are also those who will never admit defeat, and never bow their heads. Even if bullets pierce them, and clubs strike them, they will carve a bloody path forward.
Only then did Shen Yihuan truly feel her own superficiality.
Lu Zhou carried much more than she had ever imagined.
The world was vast and boundless.
The four corners of the nation’s borders.
There are always desolate lands that need people to protect them with their flesh and blood.
Shen Yihuan hugged him from behind, her arms wrapped around his bare waist, her cheek pressed against his back, directly over a gunshot scar.
She closed her eyes, feeling a strange sensation sweep through her heart.
It felt like she was cleansed from head to toe.
She opened her mouth, speaking piously.
“Captain Lu, is it too late for me to regret it now?”
________________________________________
“In the bustling lens, you only need to look straight ahead and down; but for the solitary clouds, you must look up.”
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