Gu Doctor didn’t know what the young pregnant woman had been through and was too polite to ask but felt sympathy.
Chen Mianmian smiled, “The bruises are hard to fade but much lighter than before.”
Gu Doctor nodded, “Lift your shirt so I can take a look.”
Chen Mianmian rolled up her sweater, smiling, “I feel the belly’s growing.”
Doctors don’t rely on feelings. Gu Doctor measured with a tape and nodded, “It’s definitely growing fast.”
Chen Mianmian said, “I haven’t stopped eating meat recently, feeding the baby every day.”
Gu Doctor exclaimed, “The baby’s moving! That’s a little foot. This one’s quite strong, kicking me.”
It was early in the morning, and the hallway was empty, so Zhao Lingcheng peeked secretly.
His unborn child could kick already?
He didn’t believe it but was curious.
He glanced and saw his wife sitting on a bench, lifting her shirt, one hand cradling her belly.
It was his first time seeing a pregnant belly, and it was different from what he imagined.
Her belly rounded upward, super plump, like a full, round moon.
She was gazing down at her belly, lips curved in a full smile.
Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting warm, gentle light over her figure.
The words that popped into Zhao Lingcheng’s mind were: the brilliance of motherhood.
It was his first time seeing a pregnant belly, and surprisingly, it looked quite cute.
That’s the baby’s home—what position was the baby in?
Zhao Lingcheng had read books on childbirth and knew his child was breech, sitting in the womb.
But would it really be a girl?
Or would a girl even choose to be born into his family?
He stretched his neck and stood on tiptoe, but gradually felt something was off about his ex-wife’s belly.
After measuring her abdomen, Gu Doctor began recording notes and said, “You do need to supplement nutrition, but be careful. Near delivery, you shouldn’t eat too much, or the belly will stretch severely, causing stretch marks.”
Chen Mianmian immediately panicked, “Doctor, please look, do I have stretch marks now?”
She added, “Is there medicine to treat them? Please prescribe some.”
There is no particularly effective treatment for stretch marks, not now or in the future.
But Gu Doctor said, “We don’t have Apricot Kernel Balm here. You could use some; it’s the most moisturizing.”
Then she said, “Lie down; I need to do a cervical check.”
Chen Mianmian had never heard of Apricot Kernel Balm but definitely wanted to buy some—she was not going to get stretch marks.
She lay down and was about to ask where to buy it when she suddenly cried out, “It hurts! It hurts, hurts!”
Gu Doctor didn’t scold her for being delicate but soothed her, “Not painful, not painful. It’ll be over soon.”
Without ultrasound technology back then, cervical checks were the only way to examine the placenta—it was torture, painfully excruciating.
As Gu Doctor was examining, she suddenly turned, “Who’s there? Get out!”
This was the gynecology ward, with screens, but the footsteps were heavy and nearly barged in.
Chen Mianmian caught a glimpse of a half-shoulder belonging to a man, and fear made her forget the pain.
She snapped, “What are you looking at? Get out!”
But Gu Doctor turned and recognized him, “Zhao Gong, you’re anxious for your wife, but you can’t barge in like that.”
Zhao Lingcheng was still frozen in place.
Only after Gu Doctor said this did he come to his senses and leave the room.
Gu Doctor turned back, smiling knowingly, “Men are like this. First child, all nervous and panicky. But after a few kids, they get used to it. Some men, hmph, can’t be found when the kids are born; they hide and nap.”
She pulled off her gloves, “Placenta is fine. Let me listen to the fetal heartbeat.”
Chen Mianmian had thought the intruder was some lunatic, but it turned out to be Zhao Lingcheng.
He had probably come in when he heard her cry out but had manners, so hopefully didn’t stare.
After listening to the fetal heartbeat, she asked where she could buy Apricot Kernel Balm.
She heard only big cities like Shen Cheng had it and asked about the brand and price before leaving the clinic.
Zhao Lingcheng saw her leave and started walking ahead.
But he didn’t go fast, and soon Chen Mianmian caught up.
Handing him the medical record, she smiled, “Dr. Gu said our Niuniu has grown a lot.”
Zhao Lingcheng took the file and flipped through but didn’t study it carefully.
His mind was full of that round, moon-like belly and its color.
If he were alone, he’d have just walked home, but since his wife was pregnant, they had to wait for the bus.
At the bus stop, he suddenly asked, “Those injuries—were they all caused by Chen Jinhui?”
Chen Mianmian was stunned, then nearly jumped, “You saw me without pants and still looked?”
She thought he hadn’t seen it and didn’t want to mention that awkward scene.
But since he commented on her belly, it meant he not only saw but stared.
Chen Mianmian got angry, “Big brother, please don’t look at a woman’s private parts, okay?”
Zhao Lingcheng wasn’t crazy to look at a woman without pants.
He had been curious after hearing the doctor say their baby was kicking, so he sneaked a peek.
He knew Chen Jinhui had beaten her, but hadn’t realized how bad.
Bruises first turn deep green, then slowly fade to a waxy yellow.
Her round belly was covered in large patches of waxy yellow bruises—the marks of fists.
When she groaned in pain, he thought something had happened and rushed in.
But tired of explaining, once on the bus, he said, “The Public Security Bureau is requesting to release Chen Jinhui.”
He paused, then asked tentatively, “Can he be held a few more days?”
Chen Jinhui had been detained for half a month already.
It was just theft, the amount small, so the police wanted to release him.
But since he beat his sister that badly, Zhao Lingcheng wanted to keep him locked up longer.
However, he had to consider his ex-wife’s stance since to her, Chen Jinhui was just a big baby weighing two hundred jin.
Surprisingly, she agreed without hesitation, “Okay!”
Zhao Lingcheng choked on his words, wondering how she had changed.
Her precious little brother would remain detained, and she said yes?
The bus circled the base, next stop the administrative area.
Barbed wire surrounded the entire area; there were sentry posts every three steps, watchtowers every five steps, manned 24/7.
At the door, his ex-wife suddenly leaned in and smiled, “You work inside here?”
Zhao Lingcheng just nodded silently.
Besides them, five other familiar faces on the bus were watching them closely.
At the stop, he instinctively stepped off quickly, but stopped and said, “Driver, there’s a pregnant woman.”
Life in a small town was pretty nice—few people but well-equipped and friendly.
Hearing there was a pregnant woman, the bus driver stopped for a long time.
But when they reached home, Zhao Lingcheng felt things were odd.
Under the window was a group of family members chatting idly.
They seemed to share some secret understanding because the moment they saw him, they all covered their mouths and giggled.
He went inside, and their laughter grew louder.
Zhao Lingcheng suspected the news about Wei Cuiyun might have spread to the base, and these women were here to mock his ex-wife.
But that didn’t seem right since they acted like they were close to Chen Mianmian.
Before this, Zhao Lingcheng had never seen this kind of situation.
Actually, it was because Chen Mianmian wanted to exchange oats for ‘Xiaxia,’ and the families had come to give her oat tickets to exchange.
Chen Mianmian pointed at Zhao Lingcheng’s back, “Another day. Today’s not convenient.”
Ticket scalping was a capitalist trick and had to be done quietly.
The families said, “Okay, okay, we’ll come another day.”
Chen Mianmian had to be polite, “Since you’re here, come in and rest a while.”
But the families scattered like birds and beasts, saying, “No thanks, we have to go cook dinner.”
Zhao Lingcheng was in the living room, pouring water from the thermos.
He remembered his ex-wife wasn’t good at socializing, but today she was very adept, which made things stranger.
Then he recalled how she had even managed to calm down Wei Cuiyun’s explosive temper.
Maybe she wasn’t bad at socializing; she just didn’t want to with him.
Chen Mianmian wanted to elaborate on how she saved three acres of vegetable fields with just a pesticide bottle.
But Zhao Lingcheng had a clear purpose; he took out the contract as she entered and said, “I heard you’re a top student in the Red Specialist program.”
Chen Mianmian had already told him, “I told you already.”
Zhao Lingcheng didn’t believe his wife could be bilingual in English and Russian but gave up arguing.
After all, foreign languages were like math and chemistry; you couldn’t fake it when you really needed it.
Even if she got a foreign language job because of her education, if she couldn’t handle it, she’d just be laughed at and sent home.
Back to the contract, he said, “I’ve revised some clauses.”
Chen Mianmian gestured for him to wait and turned into the kitchen.
She scooped a small bowl of processed oats and brought it to him with a smile.
“Look what this is.”
Zhao Lingcheng saw the bowl filled with tiny black grains and guessed, “Buckwheat husks? Bran?”
He wasn’t interested in grains, then pointed back to the contract, “Our marriage will have no fixed term.”
He suddenly changed the agreement, so Chen Mianmian asked, “Why?”
Zhao Lingcheng handed over a pen, “No reason. Simply put, whoever files for divorce first loses custody automatically.”
Chen Mianmian, a lawyer skilled at reading people’s hearts, was momentarily baffled.
Actually, if she could stay on the military industrial base, in this era’s background, it would be best.
Because both food and social environment were better there.
But Chen Mianmian was a career woman, one who had already accumulated her foundation.
She knew how the world worked and didn’t want to be stuck in a small neighboring town.
She could pursue a career, wasn’t afraid of danger or difficulty, and besides, with her professional caution, she wouldn’t sign without understanding the logic.
Pushing back the contract, she said, “I need to know the reason.”
Zhao Lingcheng had a strange aura.
He wasn’t noble or righteous, nor did he fit this era.
How to describe it?
He had a faint sense of death about him.
His features were handsome and elegant, but he had no vitality, no flowing emotion.
Expressionless, he said, “You’ll need a cesarean and a first postpartum recovery period. You’ll become very weak and must depend on someone to care for you. But your mother can’t, your sister can’t. Xiao Chen, only I can help you and take care of you. And you love the child, right? What I can give the child will be the best you can find.”
Chen Mianmian had never given birth but had seen many pregnant women and knew the importance of postpartum care.
She really had no choice but to rely on Zhao Lingcheng during recovery.
As for the future, who would file for divorce first was uncertain, especially since in the original story, Zhao Lingcheng had another romantic line.
Thinking this through, she took the pen and signed, tapping it on the table, “Pleasure doing business.”
Zhao Lingcheng took the pen, signing flamboyantly, then stressed, “For the child’s sake, let’s keep ourselves clean.”
Did he suspect she would have an affair with Wei Cuiyun?
He was overthinking.
With two copies of the contract, Chen Mianmian took one and asked, “By the way, what should Jiang Yao call you?”
Jiang Yao, the younger sister of Jiang Xia, was the female lead and a good person with a bitter fate.
The original story was a high official literature, about a rotten cadet son cleverly seizing wealth and women.
It was a cruel story—tormenting the female lead, who didn’t love the male lead, truly loving only Zhao Lingcheng.
The Great Northwest was harsh; the novel described it like bitter melon pulp.
Zhao Lingcheng said, “You mean Jiang Yao, same as Jiang Xia? She’s my great-aunt’s generation. What about it?”
Chen Mianmian slapped the contract, “For the child, let’s keep ourselves clean.”
Zhao Lingcheng probably didn’t yet know Jiang Yao secretly liked him.
His expression was normal, even confident, “Of course I will.”
With the contract signed, Chen Mianmian was ready to discuss his poor uncle Lin Yan.
But because his attitude was bad and he arbitrarily changed terms, she decided not to be sincere anymore.
She planned to hold back and make him anxious.
But Zhao Lingcheng, whether truly busy or pretending, didn’t take the bait.
He came and went quickly, pocketed the contract, glanced at his watch, and said, “Since you’re healthy, leave for Quancheng early tomorrow.”
Opening the door, he said, “If you feel unwell, find Sun Bingyu. If anything dangerous happens, Ma Ji will come looking for me.”
Zhao Lingcheng had to work overtime that night.
Because after the Americans installed a new system on their reconnaissance plane, their weapons also needed corresponding adjustments.
Today, he had to stay up all night with everyone.
Tomorrow, he would send the blueprints to the downstream armaments factory.
Once they finished the adjustments and sent it back, they would carry out the aerospace strike mission.
Commissar Qi hoped he would rest a few days and recuperate because everyone was exhausted.
But Zhao Lingcheng needed to squeeze out time not only for the wedding.
Lin Yan’s death was these days, and he also needed to find a good burial site for him.
Though any dirt could bury a person, the poor Northwest had no clear hills or water for eternal rest.
As a defector and enemy agent, Lin Yan’s remains could never return home.
He often said he missed dying on the battlefield; the best fate left was to be exposed in the wilderness.
Still, Zhao Lingcheng wanted to find a slightly better place for him to rest.
He hurried to leave, but his ex-wife slammed the door shut behind him.
He got angry, thinking she wanted to argue as before.
Her arguments always aimed for money, so to avoid trouble, he had already reached into his pocket.
She started, “Xu Xiaomei’s brother, Xu Dagang, the militia vice captain, is the most brutal and greedy, but I know where he hides his loot. I can send him to jail.”
She added, “I have a way not only to feed your uncle well but to make him plump.”
Besides the militia, Lin Yan’s biggest problem was hunger.
As one of the worst rightists and enemy agents, his food was often stolen.
Even without targeted harassment, constant starvation pushed him to collapse.
Chen Mianmian said she could make him full and fat—how?
Zhao Lingcheng wasn’t naturally cold-hearted; a light flickered in his eyes, flowing life returning to him.
But Chen Mianmian opened the door again, saying, “Go work overtime, but don’t overdo it.”
Zhao Lingcheng lightly knocked the door, eyes returning to the table, asking, “That’s buckwheat husks, bran, right?”
Chen Mianmian’s expression mirrored his just now, arms crossed, cold and proud, “I don’t want to talk right now.”
Whether she spoke or not, she whispered, “It can make your uncle plump and fat.”
Buckwheat husks were used in the Northwest to stuff pillows.
Zhao Lingcheng had smelled and examined it earlier, confirming it was buckwheat husks—the filling in his pillow.
That stuff could even be burned to ash to fill the stomach, but it didn’t satisfy hunger.
Zhao Lingcheng’s intuition sensed something was wrong and asked again, “Then what exactly is it?”
Chen Mianmian had changed so much on this trip.
She smiled and pushed him out the door, “See you tomorrow, bye!”
Zhao Lingcheng, of course, came back and grabbed a handful of husks.
Walking out, he observed carefully but couldn’t find anything special.
Until he crushed one near the unit’s gate and was shocked to discover it was oats.
Oats were the most nutritionally similar coarse grain to wheat in the Northwest.
Zhao Lingcheng realized that if used to stuff pillows, the cadres and prisoners wouldn’t notice.
If he sent Lin Yan a bag of oats regularly, Lin Yan could eat enough.
This was the wisdom of the working people, disguising oats perfectly as buckwheat husks using Guanyin Soil.
But then Zhao Lingcheng looked back toward the family quarters.
Chen Mianmian said she knew where Xu Dagang hid his stolen goods—that was the most important.
Because Xu Cigang was evil enough to kill, his brother couldn’t be much better.
But Xu Dagang was the vice captain of the Quancheng militia team and had harmed more than just Lin Yan.
Zhao Lingcheng didn’t doubt Chen Mianmian’s ability; she was a human ‘Xiaxia’—expert at hiding and finding things.
So what exactly had Xu Dagang hidden, and where?
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