He was a disabled military officer who doted on his research work in the Northwest.

Shen Tang picked up a jujube blossom pastry and took a bite.

The flaky pastry crumbles in your mouth, and the jujube paste filling is sweet but not cloying, with a hint of osmanthus fragrance.

"Delicious!" Shen Tang's eyes curved into crescents as she picked up another piece of beef tongue pastry.

Mu Qinghan then turned her head to look at her—the way she was holding the box and eating the pastries, her cheeks were bulging, and there was a little crumb of pastry stuck to the corner of her mouth, like a little field mouse that had stolen some food.

His gaze lingered on her face for two seconds. "Eat slowly, you're getting food all over your face."

He actually saw it all just now at the school gate.

Shen Guoping and Li Juan. Shen Yao's coquettish act. The family of three walked away chatting and laughing.

Shen Tang stood in the shadow of the streetlights, watching their backs.

She seemed the same as usual, chatting and laughing as always, but he felt she shouldn't be like this. He thought it would be better if she cried right now than if she was pretending to be fine.

He felt a tightness in his chest and opened his mouth to say, "Just now..."

He wanted to say something—

He wanted to say, "They don't deserve to be your parents," "You don't need them," "I'm here for you..." but he didn't know if saying it would make her feel worse, or if he even had the right to say it.

So he stopped talking and silently handed her a handkerchief to wipe her face.

"Hmm... Shen Yao's parents have come to pick her up." Shen Tang had already finished her third piece of food and contentedly took the handkerchief to wipe the crumbs off her face.

In both her lifetimes, she had never experienced being picked up from school.

But now—

The military jeep was warm and cozy. Mu Qinghan's scarf was draped over her shoulders, carrying his faint scent of soap. A box of Daoxiangcun pastries, sent all the way from Beijing, sat on her lap. He was sitting in the front seat and had just handed her a handkerchief.

The empty space in my heart was quietly filled by something.

She tilted her head back, her eyes crinkling as she looked at the back of Mu Qinghan's head, and said:

"Having you here is much better than having those kinds of parents."

Mu Qinghan was drinking water.

I almost choked on water.

He abruptly put down the kettle and turned to look at Shen Tang in the back seat—she was wearing her scarf, holding the box of pastries he had given her, her face slightly tilted up, her eyes crinkling as she looked at him. Those eyes were filled with a bright, sparkling smile, without a trace of gloom, only gratitude and… dependence on him?

He wasn't sure if it was dependency. But that sentence—"With you here, it's much better than having those kinds of parents"—was unforgettable.

But it truly exists.

He didn't say anything, but quickly turned his head to face forward.

But the tips of his ears were so red they looked like they could drip blood, and he couldn't suppress the smile on his lips no matter how hard he tried—

Finally, he pretended to go get a drink of water to cover up his embarrassment.

Shen Tang, sitting in the back seat, found his bright red ear tips and his pretentious drinking gesture both novel and amusing.

She deliberately provoked, drawing out her words: "Huh? Why isn't cousin saying anything? I'm praising you, cousin! Didn't you hear me? Then I'll speak louder. Having a cousin is so great."

cousin.

Mu Qinghan's hand trembled.

The kettle was slammed back into the cup holder.

He reached out expressionlessly and snatched the box of osmanthus cakes back from Shen Tang's hand through the back of the chair.

"Don't eat it," he said.

Shen Tang: "???"

"You've already called me, why aren't you giving in?!"

"No."

"I was wrong—Brother Qinghan—give me back the cake—"

Mu Qinghan placed the box on her lap, held it down with one hand, and calmly picked up the water bottle with the other to continue drinking water.

His expression remained indifferent, but his ears turned even redder.

"Qinghan-ge! Qinghan-ge! Qinghan-ge! I promise I'll never call you cousin again! Give me back my cake!"

Sitting in the driver's seat, Xiao Li's ears were perked up, and he was desperately trying to suppress his laughter, his shoulders shaking with embarrassment. He stared at the road ahead, afraid to look back, afraid to glance in the rearview mirror, and even afraid to breathe too loudly.

Mu Qinghan was silent for three seconds, then handed the box back.

Shen Tang happily accepted it and took a big bite. She mumbled, "Qinghan-ge is the best."

It needs cleaning up.

Mu Qinghan stared blankly at the road ahead, silently thinking to herself, but the smile on her lips was completely uncontrollable.

……

It was completely dark when the military jeep drove into the compound.

The car headlights illuminated the stone path at the courtyard gate. Shen Tang jumped out of the car, about to return the scarf to Mu Qinghan—

"Commander Mu! Is Commander Mu here?"

A middle-aged man's voice came from the other end of the alley. It was Zhou, the clerk in charge of logistics in the compound, who was running over with a small notebook in his hand.

"Commander Mu, someone's looking for you!" Officer Zhou ran up, panting, and said, "Staff Officer Wu from the Third Battalion—the one who delivered the documents last time—he asked me to tell you something."

Mu Qinghan sat in her wheelchair and gave a faint "hmm".

Zhou scratched his head, looked at Shen Tang with a somewhat troubled expression, and then leaned closer to Mu Qinghan and lowered his voice—but in the quiet alley, Shen Tang still heard him.

"Staff Officer Wu said he has a comrade-in-arms stationed in the city, 28 years old, a battalion-level officer, and from a well-off family. He heard you have a… uh… cousin here, and he'd like me to play matchmaker. What do you think?"

Mu Qinghan's face darkened instantly. "I won't consider it," she said, her words coming out as quickly as a reflex.

Shen Tang was folding the scarf when she paused for a moment.

A marriage proposal? ...To give her?

For a moment, she didn't know what expression to make. Was she laughing or crying? Or simply bewildered?

She's only been in this era for a few months, and Mu Qinghan's leg hasn't even been healed yet, and someone's already come to propose marriage?

Officer Zhou was clearly taken aback by Mu Qinghan's decisive rejection and paused for a moment: "Huh? Commander, please let me finish—he's really quite a catch, a 28-year-old battalion-level officer, 1.8 meters tall, and both his parents are employed—"

"She's still in school," Mu Qinghan interrupted him, her tone as cold as the November wind in Northwest China. "Not considering it."

There was no room for negotiation. No room for compromise. Not even a second of hesitation. "I'll handle her affairs; don't bring this up again."

Zhou opened his mouth, then glanced at Shen Tang standing beside him. Shen Tang was holding a folded scarf, her expression a little stiff—not out of embarrassment, but because she felt uncomfortable being stared at.

"Well... alright then. I'll tell Lao Wu." Zhou left sheepishly.

The alleyway quieted down.

The dim light of the streetlamp illuminated two people—one sitting in a wheelchair, and the other standing beside him.

Shen Tang looked down at the military overcoat in her arms and remained silent.

Her heart was beating a little fast.

It wasn't because someone came to propose marriage—what did that 28-year-old battalion-level officer have to do with her? She didn't even know what he looked like.

It was because of the way Mu Qinghan refused.

That kind of unthinking, decisive, and possessive rejection.

"Not considering it."

"I will take care of her affairs."

It was as if she were someone to him.

It seemed there was no need to ask for her opinion at all, because the answer was already self-evident to him.

Shen Tang's earlobe burned slightly.

She secretly raised her eyes and glanced at Mu Qinghan.

In the moonlight, his profile was sharp and angular, his expression indifferent, revealing no emotion. But his gaze wasn't fixed elsewhere—it was fixed on her.

Eyes facing each other.

Shen Tang's heart skipped a beat.

Mu Qinghan's gaze was deep, like a deep pool or the night sky—unfathomable, yet capable of drawing one in completely.

There was something in those dark eyes that she had never seen before; it was neither the indifference she showed when tutoring her children nor the awkwardness she displayed when jealous.

Rather, it is something deeper, more intense, something that has been suppressed for a very, very long time.

Only the white smoke from the coal stoves drifted silently in the night wind through the alley.

The streetlight flickered on and off.

Shen Tang gripped the military overcoat tightly in her hand.

The air was so thick it felt like it was frozen.