Hearing this, Zhou Mingzhu felt her head buzzing slightly.
She looked at the diverse group of people around her, her ears filled with the various dialects drifting in from every direction. A question nagged at her: why was no one expressing any dissatisfaction?
The older man sitting across the aisle from Zhou Mingzhu stood up, dusted off his clothes, and said to his wife, "I'm going to take a stroll."
The old woman shot him a glare. "You just can't sit still, can you?"
The old man put on a look of profound mystery. "Tsk—you woman! You don't understand! We need to let the passengers in the other carriages know that we are cooperating with the comrades to catch the bad elements!"
The old woman rolled her eyes at him again but said nothing more.
Soon after, several young, able-bodied men stood up and began making their way to the other carriages.
It was only then that Zhou Mingzhu deeply grasped the unique romance of this era: unity and simplicity.
As night fell, the lights in the carriage were dimmed, but few people truly fell into a deep sleep. The train continued its tireless journey, a rhythmic *clack-clack-clack* echoing through the darkness. The air in the carriage, long stagnant, had settled into a complex scent of mustiness mixed with the lingering odor of scallion pancakes and other snacks.
Qitong had fallen asleep, but Lujun, with his stubborn nature, seemed unable to rest. Every time he closed his eyes, he snapped alert immediately.
Zhou Mingzhu reached out and patted Lujun’s head. "Go to sleep. We’ll be at the station by five in the morning. Don’t worry, if anything happens, I’ll wake you up."
Despite being urged several times, Lujun kept nodding in agreement, yet his anxiety kept him on edge, unable to slip into slumber.
Zhou Mingzhu drifted in and out of consciousness. In this era, when a train traveled through the night, there were no sprawling city lights outside the window—only an endless, boundless darkness. She didn't dare to truly fall asleep; she feared that if one of those criminals from the day before had slipped through the net, they might silently return for revenge. Whenever there was a stir from someone sitting nearby, or from those who had bought standing tickets and were sitting or lying on the floor under the seats, Zhou Mingzhu would snap awake and scan the darkness vigilantly.
It wasn't until the horizon began to pale—a strip of visible white emerging where the sky met the earth—that the sky turned a grayish blue. The sun slowly crawled upward, bathing the world in a golden halo.
Zhou Mingzhu was still anxious. If the train staff kept her behind to assist with the investigation, what should she say? But as it turned out, carrying her parcel and holding Qitong and Lujun’s hands, she walked out of the station platform without a single hitch.
Zhou Mingzhu was puzzled. Was she not important? She was the one who had first exposed the criminal gang’s activities! Didn't a single official come to ask her a word? She didn't know whether to feel frustrated by their lack of rigor or relieved to have avoided the trouble of being questioned.
Holding the two children’s hands tightly, Zhou Mingzhu exited the train station and headed straight for the bus stop. Carrying a small bag of local specialties, an enamel mug for drinking and eating, and an aluminum lunchbox, she finally arrived at the Military Region General Hospital.
Her palms were slick with a thin layer of sweat from holding Qitong’s hand. When she presented her introduction letter, the soldier at the entrance glanced at it and gave her a standard military salute. Zhou Mingzhu hurriedly removed her cotton hat and returned the salute.
After asking around, she finally found out where the seriously injured Gu Yan was staying. She brought the children to his room and finally saw him. The anxiety that had been hanging over her heart finally settled.
There were three beds in the room. Gu Yan was in the bed nearest the window, swaddled in so much gauze he looked almost like a mummy. Zhou Mingzhu walked to his bedside and finally saw his face.
The "handsome bandit" she had sat across from on the train was not Gu Yan. Gu Yan’s head was also wrapped in bandages, but his thick, sword-like brows, his slightly prominent aquiline nose, and his well-defined lips gave him a very upright appearance.
Just then, a nurse walked in. She had an oval face, willow-leaf eyebrows, and bright, clear apricot-shaped eyes, with a delicate nose and rosy lips. It was the kind of stately, elegant beauty that was prized in the seventies and eighties—what people in the 21st century would call a "face that brings peace to the country."
The nurse looked at Zhou Mingzhu with curiosity. "Hello, who might you be?"
"I am Zhou Mingzhu, Gu Yan’s fiancée," she hurriedly introduced herself.
The nurse nodded and reached out her hand. "Hello, I am Zhao Xiulan, the nurse in charge of wards 11 through 15."
After shaking hands, Zhou Mingzhu observed the nurse’s micro-expressions even more carefully. After all, this was the heroine of the story!
Zhao Xiulan glanced at the two children. She didn't ask any questions; there was only curiosity in her eyes, nothing else. She checked Gu Yan’s IV drip, then checked the status of the drips for the soldiers in the other beds. Seeing that the drip for the young soldier closest to the wall was about to finish, she nodded at Zhou Mingzhu and stepped out.
Zhou Mingzhu thought for a moment, then turned to Qitong and Lujun. "Wait for me here at the hospital. I’m going to buy some porridge. When your father wakes up, he’ll have something to eat, and he’ll recover faster."
Lujun and Qitong nodded. Zhou Mingzhu tucked their bags into the small cabinet by the bed and left with the aluminum lunchbox.
Only then did Gu Yan open his eyes.
In truth, he had woken up while Zhou Mingzhu was talking to Zhao Xiulan, but he hadn't opened his eyes immediately. He was perfectly aware of his current condition. Furthermore, he remembered that his fiancée’s name was Zhou Mingyue, and that she had a twin sister named Zhou Mingzhu.
Gu Yan had been wondering how to greet her. If the Zhou family didn't want the marriage to proceed, he was prepared to agree. He had a bayonet wound through his left collarbone, shrapnel embedded in his left arm bone, a bayonet slash across his abdomen, and a gunshot wound through his thigh. Most importantly, the bayonet had pierced his lower external oblique—the area where the "V-line" is. The doctor had told him that it might have damaged the spermatic cord, the vas deferens, or the testicular artery. Plainly put, Gu Yan might never have children of his own.
He didn't know how to tell this to Zhou Mingzhu, whom he was meeting for the first time. That was why he had instinctively kept his eyes closed.
Once Zhou Mingzhu had left, he finally opened his eyes and looked at Lujun and Qitong.
When Lujun had been brought home, he was five years old. Now, he was even tanner and wearing a navy blue cotton coat covered in patches. But his face was clean; Zhou Mingzhu had wiped away his runny nose. Ever since she taught him to blow his nose himself, he had been obedient about not looking grimy. As for Qitong, her fair skin was chapped red from the cold and slightly peeling. Zhou Mingzhu had applied some ointment to her face, but it hadn't fully healed yet.
Lujun, with his sword-like brows and apricot-shaped eyes, stared at Gu Yan with gaze as dark as grapes. After a moment of silence, he spoke: "Dad, are you awake?"