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

Shen Tang looked up at him.

The two looked at each other for a second.

Then Mu Qinghan looked away and cleared her throat.

"The porridge is cold. I'll go heat it up."

He picked up his cane and stood up.

"Hey—" Shen Tang called out to him. "I'll go with you."

Mu Qinghan glanced at her.

Her face was still a little pale; she had only recovered from her illness a few days ago and had just been upset by the Shen family. Logically, she should continue to lie in bed. But her eyes were bright.

It's because I just gave her the bracelet.

Thinking of this, he had a sudden thought; she really liked the bracelet, and she was very happy.

"Let's go." She had already walked out of the main room first.

Mu Qinghan picked up her cane and followed.

The two walked side by side along the corridor.

Mu Qinghan's cane tapped on the blue bricks, "tap, tap, tap." Her footsteps were very light, falling in the intervals of his rhythm.

The two sounds alternated, echoing in the quiet courtyard.

When we were halfway there—

Shen Tang touched the back of his hand with her fingers.

It was very light. As if it happened unintentionally.

Mu Qinghan paused for a moment, his fingers twitched slightly, gently, like a butterfly approaching to collect nectar, tentatively taking her hand.

Interlock your fingers.

His hands were large, with distinct knuckles and thin calluses on his fingertips.

Her hands were smaller, with slender fingers, and the jade bracelet on her wrist swayed slightly with her movements.

Shen Tang did not pull her hand away.

Neither of them spoke.

I walked past the main room, past the corridor, past the bare old locust tree, all the way to the kitchen door.

Mu Qinghan stopped and used one hand to push the door open, but her other hand remained firmly in place.

Shen Tang lowered her head, looking at the two people's intertwined fingers.

His knuckles tightened slightly, as if afraid she would run away.

She smiled slightly but didn't pull her hand away.

"If the door won't open," her voice was muffled, with a hint of barely concealed amusement, "you might have to use both hands."

Mu Qinghan ignored her, only feeling a burning sensation in his ears. He used the elbow of the hand he was using to push open the kitchen door, his movements a little clumsy, but he stubbornly refused to let go.

Shen Tang looked at his profile—his jaw was taut, his ears were red, and his expression was as serious as if he were carrying out some kind of military mission.

She finally couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Mu Qinghan turned her head stiffly to look at her, "What are you laughing at?"

"It's nothing." Shen Tang pursed her lips, her eyes curving into crescents. "Porridge. Go heat it up quickly."

Mu Qinghan snorted and pulled her into the kitchen.

……

The aftermath of that farce at the compound gate spread to the machinery factory's residential area that afternoon, carried by the women who were buying groceries.

"That girl from the Shen family took her parents to the military compound and made a scene!"

"She was squatting by the door crying, saying she was being bullied and had nowhere to go."

"They were driven away, and told to call the police if anything happened; the military region doesn't handle local security."

"Shen Yao is trying to curry favor with Commander Mu! She keeps talking about a marriage agreement with him, but it was clearly her and Zhao Jianhui who were dating, and his family dumped Shen Tang. Now she's going after him? How dare she?!"

"Tsk tsk, Zhao Jianhui just went in, and she's already eyeing someone else?"

When this news reached the ears of Zhao Jianhui's childhood friends, they were squatting at the entrance of the factory canteen smoking.

"Her? She went to the military compound?" The young man with the buzz cut flicked his cigarette ash, his face displaying an expression that was hard to decipher—a mixture of mockery and disgust. "Jianhui's only been in there a few days, and she's already making a scene?"

"I knew that woman was a scoundrel." The tall, thin man chewed on his cigarette. "The time Jianhui treated us to dinner, she sat at the head of the table and ordered—she acted like she owned the place, even more so than the factory director's wife. Now that something's happened, she turns around and sells him out? A despicable woman!"

"It's more than that," another person said in a low voice. "Think about it—she said she was followed and had dead rats thrown at her. But I know Uncle Zhao and Aunt Zhao went to the provincial capital because of Jianhui's matter; they're not home at all. With them gone, all the Zhao family relatives at the factory are keeping their distance, afraid of being implicated. They're not stupid; who would do something like this in such a dangerous situation? To get caught and punished?"

The group exchanged glances.

The young man with the buzz cut stubbed out his cigarette and stood up.

"I need to talk to Uncle Zhao and Aunt Zhao about this when they get back."

"Yes." The tall, thin man also stood up. "Stalking, dead rats—she might have orchestrated all of that herself. What wouldn't someone like her do?"

"The investigation team has already left, so why did she do this? Who is she putting on an act for?"

"She's putting on a show for everyone, making herself seem so innocent. Didn't she go to the military region? I heard that their family's biological daughter, Shen Tang, who they kicked out, is there, forced by them to marry a disabled soldier. It seems she's trying to use this to climb the social ladder again."

"Tsk—" someone clicked their tongue. "Jianhui is unlucky to have found her, but if she really did it herself—that's slander." The buzz-cut young man's eyes turned cold. "If you don't want people to know, don't do it in the first place. I refuse to believe she did it without leaving a trace."

"right,"

The group stubbed out their cigarettes and dispersed.

The third day after giving the bracelet.

The winter sun was unusually bright, and the wind had subsided somewhat.

In the Mu family's backyard, the new seedlings in the vegetable garden had already sprouted tender green tips. Lu Yanzhi squatted by the edge of the field, carefully examining the root system of a small bok choy with a magnifying glass.

"The growth rate is faster than expected," he muttered to himself, quickly jotting down notes in his notebook. "The surface flora recovery rate... I estimate around forty percent... Hmm, a week faster than I predicted."

Shen Tang stood to the side, holding two cups of hot water.

Half of her attention was on the vegetable patch, and the other half—on her wrist.

The jade bracelet rested quietly on my wrist, its warm white color shimmering slightly in the sunlight.

Three days have passed. The binding progress has increased from 5% to 17%. The spiritual spring water reserves are slowly recovering, and the little seedling in the corner of the space has already sprouted its third leaf.

Everything is moving in a positive direction.

"Here you go." She handed one of the cups to Lu Yanzhi.

Lu Yanzhi took the container and gulped down a mouthful without looking up: "Your soil substrate formula is really something—the recovery rate of halophilic bacteria exceeds conventional theoretical values. If this process could be quantified…"

As he spoke, his eyes grew brighter and brighter, and he looked up at Shen Tang:

"I plan to write a letter to Teacher Zhou."

"Teacher Zhou?"

"My mentor. In Beijing." Lu Yanzhi stood up, brushing the dust off his knees. "The data from the past six months—the improvement of saline-alkali soil microorganisms and the speed of microbial community reconstruction—are all worth including. And—"

He paused, his gaze towards Shen Tang carrying an unusual seriousness:

I wanted to mention you in the letter.

Shen Tang's fingers paused slightly.

Teacher Zhou, Zhou Henian.

Her advisor.

In her past life, when she was pursuing her doctorate under Lu Yanzhi, Zhou Henian was already a leading figure in academia. But at that time, the old man was bedridden for many years, and she only saw him from afar at a few important academic conferences—his hair was completely white, he was in a wheelchair, and although he was in good spirits, his health was already very poor.

Every time Lu Yanzhi mentioned her mentor, her tone was filled with deep respect and heartache. She could sense that their relationship was not just that of teacher and student, but also a deep understanding that had spanned many years and involved a great deal of tacit agreement.

But she didn't know exactly what she had experienced.

Lu Yanzhi never mentioned it, and she never asked.

All she knew was that her mentor deeply respected this mentor, a respect that contained gratitude, a sense of indebtedness, and things she couldn't easily delve into.

"Okay." She nodded. "You write it down, and let me know if you need any additional data."

Lu Yanzhi smiled, the kind of unreserved smile unique to researchers when they meet someone like them:

Actually, I have another idea—

He lowered his voice, as if sharing a huge secret:

"Would you like to conduct your experiments in a larger location?"

Shen Tang's heart skipped a beat.

"Beijing." Lu Yanzhi's eyes shone like two stars. "Professor Zhou is at the Beijing Academy of Agricultural Sciences. His laboratory equipment is the best in the country. If our data can withstand verification—"

He spread his arms wide, making an exaggerated arc:

"The sky's the limit, Shen Tang! You're wasting your talents staying in this small place! Come with me!"