Marriage in the 1970s: The Political Commissar's Contract Wife

Fang Chu's jaw tightened as he reached for the crucial test report, carefully folded it, and placed it in the inside pocket of his uniform, close to his chest. His movements were decisive, without the slightest hesitation.

"I'll go now."

Seeing him turn to leave, Commander Shen suddenly stood up, walked around the table to the door, grabbed his shoulder, and spoke with unprecedented seriousness:

"Listen up, kid! Keep your distance! This is more sensitive than a powder keg right now. If this blows up and word gets out, no matter what the truth is, your futures will be affected! Especially the woman's; her reputation will be completely ruined! Understand?"

Fang Chu stopped and gave Commander Shen an unusually clear and determined look.

"Know."

He opened the door, but didn't immediately immerse himself in the outside light. Instead, he paused briefly at the doorway, as if taking a breath or gathering the courage to face the impending storm. Then, he pulled his hat down low, strode off, and his figure quickly disappeared at the end of the corridor.

Holding the seemingly light yet incredibly heavy lab report, Fang Chu found Zhi Lin at the edge of the training field.

Zhi Lin was leading his troops in drills, sweat beading on his forehead, each command still radiating anger. When he saw Fang Chu, his eyes instantly turned cold. He handed the training over to his deputy, strode over, and before Fang Chu could speak, snatched the paper from him.

His gaze swept quickly over the conclusion, his fingers crumpling the paper. After a few seconds of deathly silence, he abruptly looked up, his eyes blazing with a complex mix of anger—a clear hatred for Fang Chu, and a pent-up frustration with nowhere to vent. He grabbed Fang Chu's arm with such force that he almost crushed the bones, dragging him away from the training field without a word, pulling him to a quiet corner behind the equipment storage room.

As soon as he regained his footing, Zhilin's fist came crashing down with a whoosh!

"Fight back!" Zhi Lin roared, like a lion utterly enraged, his second punch landing immediately afterward. "Did you hear me! Or I'll fucking kill you today!"

Fang Chu took two blows, and blood immediately appeared at the corner of his mouth. He understood that this was not a simple act of venting; it was a trial, a ritual in which he had to endure physical pain to gain the right to speak. If he didn't fight back, Zhi Lin would think he was either guilty or pitying him, neither of which would truly end the matter.

"Okay." Fang Chu spat out the blood foam in his mouth, his eyes darkened, and he raised his fist.

What followed was a silent yet fierce struggle. There were no shouts, only heavy breathing, the dull thuds of fists hitting flesh, and the sounds of bodies slamming against the wall. Both men were once elite soldiers, but now they were like two primal beasts, venting everything in the most direct way. Fang Chu was ultimately in the wrong and was injured, so he mostly parried, but every counterattack was merciless.

After an unknown amount of time, the two finally separated due to exhaustion.

Fang Chu collapsed to the ground, his vision blurring, feeling excruciating pain in his ribs, and barely able to breathe—a truly severe injury.

Zhi Lin wasn't in much better shape; his cheekbones were bruised and swollen, and his lip was cracked, but he still managed to stand upright, though slightly hunched over and panting heavily. He walked to Fang Chu's side and nudged him with the tip of his mud- and blood-stained shoe, his voice hoarse but carrying an undeniable warning:

"From now on, stay away from my sister." He stared intently at the disheveled Fang Chu on the ground, enunciating each word clearly, "If even a single rumor gets out of your name, I'll still kill you."

After saying that, he spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, turned around, and limped away from the mess.

Fang Chu lay on the cold ground, gazing at the gray sky. His whole body ached, yet his mind became clear. He knew that Zhi Lin's brutal beating and final warning, in a sense, were a way of letting him go. His severe injuries had brought about a silent, unwilling, but undeniably real end.

This most primal dialogue between men has temporarily come to a bloody end.

Fang Chu practically dragged himself along, stumbling and shuffling all the way to the infirmary. The sound of him pushing open the door startled Li Yunxiao, who was tidying up the medicine cabinet with his back to the door.

When Li Yunxiao turned around and saw his miserable state, he was so shocked that he almost dropped the tweezers in his hand. He blurted out, "Holy crap! Young Master Fang? What happened to you... Who the hell has the guts to beat you up like this?" He and Fang Chu were childhood friends who grew up together in the same military compound, so he never held back when he spoke.

Fang Chu ignored him and walked straight to the examination bed. He tried to sit down, but the movement aggravated his wound, causing him to gasp in pain and freeze in mid-air.

"Stop talking nonsense," he gritted his teeth, his voice squeezed out from between his teeth, "Why do you care so much? Hurry up and apply the medicine for me."

李云霄绕着他走了一圈，像观察什幺稀有动物，嘴里啧啧有声：「不对啊？你小子当年在军校，格斗射击哪样不是拔尖的？这才下部队几天，就让人揍成这熊样了？阴沟里翻船了？」 他一边说着，一边手脚麻利地拿出碘伏和棉签。

Fang Chu closed her eyes, too lazy to look at his gloating face: "Li Yunxiao, if you don't speak, no one will think you're mute."

"Hey, getting cocky, huh?" Li Yunxiao raised an eyebrow and deliberately pressed a cotton swab covered in iodine onto the most obvious bruise on Fang Chu's ribs.

"Ugh—!" Fang Chu's body tensed abruptly, a suppressed groan escaping from deep in his throat, and a fine layer of cold sweat instantly beaded on his forehead. He abruptly opened his eyes and glared fiercely at Li Yunxiao.

Meeting his murderous gaze, Li Yunxiao was not afraid at all; on the contrary, he was amused. He didn't reduce the force of his blows and even mocked, "Oh, you're quite tolerant. Looks like the other party didn't really beat you to death. At least you didn't break any bones; it's just a little soreness."

Fang Chu fell silent, simply closing her eyes again, her lips pressed tightly together, letting her childhood friend "torture" her, swallowing all the pain and humiliation back down. The infirmary was filled with the pungent smell of disinfectant, mixed with a kind of concern and solemnity that only they understood, masked by banter.

After the medicine was applied, Fang Chu's forehead was covered in cold sweat from the pain. He slowly put his clothes back on, and every movement aggravated his wounds, causing him to frown.

While cleaning up the blood-stained cotton swabs and gauze, Li Yunxiao, without looking up, instructed, "Alright, go back and rest for two days. Don't go to training. I'll give you a sick leave certificate."

Fang Chu paused in buttoning her clothes, then looked up at Li Yunxiao with a calm gaze, her tone even but carrying an undeniable firmness: "Don't tell my family about this."

Li Yunxiao paused, finally raising his head to meet his old friend's gaze. He raised an eyebrow, a knowing yet slightly mocking expression on his face, and drawled:

"I understand—it's about saving face!"