Bai Fumei in the 70’s

Zhao Lanxiang touched the dried tears on her cheeks. A white handkerchief lay quietly on her palm.

The faint fragrance of the gardenia spreads out like the carnival in midsummer—the stronger the aroma, the stronger the sweetness. The fragrance is not greasy, reflecting the white light, and the corner has a very pale word, "Bai."

Zhao Lanxiang was stunned, and she hadn't recovered yet. She seemed to still have the strange man's warm words in her ears.

Such words seemed to bring strength, crawled into her ear, and gently knocked on the thick shackles wrapped around her heart. Zhao Lanxiang's eyes shed two lines of tears.

She held her body with her hand. Her sobbing cry turned into wailing, as if she released all the forbearance and grievances, squeezing out all the water from her body and draining all her tears.

...

When He Songbai saw Zhao Lanxiang again the next day, he found that the woman whose mood collapsed yesterday returned to her original appearance—orderly, busy, and engaged in work.

But He Songbai, who is familiar with the nature of the person he used to share a pillow with, knows that some things have quietly changed.

There was a trace of spirit in her eyes, and she smiled more and more. Although her whole person was still weak, she has tenacity as flexible as pampas grass. She can turn even if there is a rock in her way.

When He Songbai looked at the small restaurant opposite the shop, his lips bent subconsciously. As a treacherous businessman who is accustomed to schemes, he did not take advantage of her most tormented and fragile time, but it has exhausted his self-control.

Who knows what kind of thought she had when she went to the countryside to see him, but He Songbai knew that no matter what purpose she had, her feelings for him were innocent and warm, without any hint of calculation. He wanted to be like this.

But his smile lasted for only a moment, and then it flattened out.

In front of "Lanxiang" stood a tall figure. It was Jiang Jianjun.2

But Jiang Jianjun's head was sober this time. He went in for a few minutes without making a move. There was no dispute in the shop opposite.

He Songbai put down the cup of tea with patience and drank it. Over time, his tea was gradually undrinkable, and he could not sit on the stool for another moment.

He hurried down, walked into the shop, and looked around. He found that there was no figure in the empty place where Zhao Lanxiang often sat.

The chair was already cold, and He Songbai quickly asked, "What about your boss?"

The clerk at the shop said, "If she is not inside, then she is out."

He Songbai squeezed into the cluttered room and found another door behind the shop, his face suddenly sinking.

He Songbai hurried across the street and jumped into his car parked on the side of the road. The sound of a tumbling car engine starting sounded, and he drove to the military compound.

...

Zhao Lanxiang followed behind Jiang Jianjun and walked into their former love nest.

This place is when she lived for more than ten years. She could not say that she had no feelings for it. The house has been renovated twice before and after. When it was first built, it was the latest family building of the army, with white walls, new doors, and windows—symbolizing new marriages, new houses, and new loved ones.

The big house was little by little furnished and decorated by her. But after more than ten years, the marriage was broken, and the feelings were broken. She can't hold her nose anymore.

Jiang Jianjun didn't do anything. He just watched her holding a big cardboard box and put down her things one by one: her jewelry box, her handicrafts, her paintings, books, notes she had saved for many years... Everything was packed up and can almost empty half of the house.

The remaining half is bulky furniture that cannot be taken away. In fact, Jiang Jianjun's things are pitifully scarce. The house is full of traces of her. She has already taken deep roots. If they want to uproot it, this house will not look like home. Jiang Jianjun looked at it, and his chest seemed to be stuffed with cotton. It was so painful and stuffy that he couldn't breathe.

Love is like a weak current that makes timid people courageous. Love is like a razor blade, drawing blood and make a deep wound.

Jiang Jianjun sat in a dark place in the shadow, almost silent as if there was no such thing as pain. He looked at her for a long time before finally speaking, "Don't go, okay?"

"If you are gone, this home is not like home anymore."

Zhao Lanxiang acted very neatly. Within half an hour, she had packed three big boxes. She said calmly, "There is no regret medicine in the world."

"I have finished packing. If there is anything left, I don't want it. You can throw it for me. You can send me these boxes when you are free. I'm going..."

"But......" Jiang Jianjun glanced at the messy house. Before she turned it over, he didn't know that the small house could hide so many things that belonged to her. She unauthorizedly turned it over but wiped her hands away, leaving a mess for him to clean up. There will be no more accompany of Zhao Lanxiang. How difficult it will be in the future and no end in sight.

This feeling is terrible.

Zhao Lanxiang asked Jiang Jianjun to carry things down. Jiang Jianjun moved the carton downstairs with a heavy heart. When he went outside the house, Zhao Lanxiang sorted out a pile of discarded debris. She found a cowhide notepad, and her eyes stopped. After a few seconds, she tore some papers from it and then threw the waste paper into the trash can.

With a soft, muffled sound, the ragged book fell into the waste bin.

Zhao Lanxiang held a small wooden box and left the house.

Jiang Jianjun picked up the white papers from the trash can and read them one by one in the palm of his hand. The moment the words hit his eyes, Jiang Jianjun's eyes were almost red.

"It was sunny on March 12, 1976. I saw your heroic figure in the training field today. I hope that your ideal will be realized one day. You are a comrade worth learning and admiring."

"October 5, 1979. I remember the first sentence you said to me is, 'Where are you going?' Now I just want to go where you go. Where you are is where I am. I hope for your safety. I am at home, waiting for your triumph."

"On February 2, 1984, the winter in the north was cold. I don't know if you received the clothes I sent you. Today you have to eat more dumplings so your blessings will continue. I hope you will always be safe and healthy. And, Happy New Year. "

Jiang Jianjun saw the diary and felt choked in his throat. His tears almost fell.

He chased her and ran to the street outside until he held Zhao Lanxiang in his arms.

Zhao Lanxiang was frightened with a pale face, "What are you doing? Let me go."

Jiang Jianjun forced her arms around her and said, "I will go to the chief and request the remarriage report."

"You can't go."

He lowered his head, covered her lips, and kissed her violently and depressively.

When Jiang Jianjun kissed her, the soft and sweet taste poured into his heart, as if her lips were covered in honey juice. The heart that had been hardened for a long time seemed to bloom in an instant. All the snow and ice had melted.1

But before he had kissed for a long time, a big fist hit him head-on.

The fists were as dense as rain and storms, and they beat him vigorously. Jiang Jianjun and the man were entangled and fought.

The person coming was He Songbai, who was too late. Like an irritated Tibetan Mastiff, he wished to bite off the other person's flesh. He used all his fists and feet fighting in prison, and he specifically targeted Jiang Jianjun's old injury. Jiang Jiangjun's cotton underwear was soaked in blood, but He Songbai was still not a rival of Jiang Jiangjun, a general in the army.1

Jiang Jianjun beat He Songbai until he had blood on his mouth. He only felt a whirl of the sky, but the mercenaries who followed him hurriedly came and gave a helping hand.

Seven or eight big bodyguards surrounded Jiang Jianjun and took him to a remote alley, but Jiang Jianjun also had a fit of anger in his heart, eager to vent. A fight is going on fiercely and silently...

In the end, Jiang Jianjun, who was wounded, was defeated with difficulty. He Songbai stepped on his hand and crushed it hard. He lowered his face and said fiercely, "Your Jiang family's handle is all in my hands."

"If you harass her again, your Jiang's family... just forget it."

...

He Songbai wiped the blood from his face. He returned to his place and looked for Zhao Lanxiang. Finally, he found her in the deep alley.

The moment her dark eyes lifted up, the snow looked very bright.

He Songbai wiped the blood that had oozed from his face again and smiled gently, "Are you scared? Are you okay?"

Zhao Lanxiang shook her head, "It's okay."

Although she was shocked and disgusted at that moment, Jiang Jianjun was also punished and paid the price. Zhao Lanxiang was relieved, and the disgust in her chest was much lighter.

But the shock was far more than the relief. At that moment, Zhao Lanxiang really felt the disparity between men and women. Facing Jiang Jianjun's coercion, she had no resistance.

He Songbai pulled out his handkerchief, leaned over, and wiped her lips. Carefully and undeniably, he said, "You can no longer let others kiss casually here."

"Finally, you are divorced."

He seemed to be no longer the silent and gentleman. He was stained with blood, which removed his slick and elegant shell. He became extremely aggressive.

He kissed her a bit fiercely, but it was on her hand.

The full-bodied masculine voice said with a faint smile. It was mellow like wine. "Zhao Lanxiang, can I pursue you?"