His voice was deep and steady, betraying no emotional fluctuations.
Shen Niantang noticed that the collar of Gu Tingchuan’s military uniform was slightly unbuttoned, revealing a corner of the white shirt beneath. His Adam’s apple bobbed gently as he spoke, his jawline taut, and he exuded an undeniable sense of authority. Subconsciously, she stood up straighter, slowly steadying her composure.
"Comrade Shen is adapting quite quickly."
He Qian said with a smile, completely oblivious to the subtle shift in the air.
Gu Tingchuan nodded, his gaze landing on Shen Niantang once more.
"That's good."
He paused, as if weighing his words. "He Qian has always been responsible for the literacy classes in the unit. Now that you are here, I’d like to know if you are capable of teaching. Military instructors are in short supply at the Military Region, and I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter."
Shen Niantang blinked, her long lashes casting tiny shadows on her cheeks. She was surprised, never having expected Gu Tingchuan to make such a suggestion.
"I... I have no problem with that. When are the classes usually held? I’d like to take a look at the textbooks."
Her caution sparked a flash of admiration in Gu Tingchuan’s eyes, along with a faint, stirring sense of attraction. Although Shen Niantang was only nineteen, she possessed an innate poise that was always present.
"No problem. Come to my office; I have the new textbooks there."
Shen Niantang looked up, meeting Gu Tingchuan’s profound gaze. For a fleeting second, she felt as if she had glimpsed a complex emotion in his eyes, but it vanished so quickly she wondered if it had been her imagination.
Watching the tips of Shen Niantang’s ears turn slightly red, Gu Tingchuan’s Adam’s apple bobbed involuntarily. He forced himself to look away and said to He Qian, "What are you staring at? Get back to work."
He Qian, standing to the side, was already mentally criticizing Gu Tingchuan’s double standards. How could a man who was usually so stern and humorless be so fickle these past two days?
Shen Niantang followed Gu Tingchuan down the hallway, their footsteps echoing softly in the empty corridor. Gu Tingchuan’s back was straight, his military uniform highlighting his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His sleeves were rolled up slightly, revealing the prominent bones of his wrists. He deliberately slowed his pace, yet couldn’t help but glance back at her—Shen Niantang followed with her head bowed, stray hairs tucked behind her ears, swaying gently with her steps like a soft feather brushing against his heart.
Pushing open the office door, the scent of wooden furniture mixed with a faint, clean fragrance greeted them. Gu Tingchuan’s desk was impeccably tidy, his pens lined up neatly in a holder, and a few training schedules held down by a glass paperweight. He walked quickly to the desk, tapped his fingers twice unconsciously on the surface, and pulled a light red textbook from a stack of files.
"This is the newly compiled teaching material."
He handed the book to Shen Niantang, his voice lower than usual, as if afraid to disturb the quiet. The edges of the pages were slightly frayed—it had clearly just been unpacked—and the front cover was stamped with a bright red "Internal Use Only" mark.
Shen Niantang took it with both hands, her fingertips accidentally brushing his palm. At that touch, Gu Tingchuan pulled his hand back abruptly, his throat moved, and he nearly bumped into his chair as he turned. He coughed to cover his reaction and pointed toward the small sofa by the window.
"Sit there and look it over."
Gu Tingchuan took a fountain pen from his drawer, the metal cap feeling cool against his palm. He hesitated for a moment, not daring to hand it directly to her, and instead placed it gently on the coffee table.
"Use this to write your lesson plan."
The pen rolled across the wooden desk and stopped by Shen Niantang’s hand, the sun catching the gold-plated clip.
"Class is every Wednesday afternoon, two hours each time."
Gu Tingchuan stood in front of the bookcase pretending to organize files, his back to her. The glass cabinet door reflected her silhouette as she bowed her head to leaf through the book, her lashes casting delicate shadows on her cheeks. His voice softened involuntarily. "You’ll need to prepare in-class quizzes. The passing rate must be over eighty percent."
"I understand."
Shen Niantang nodded, her fingertips tracing the table of contents. She said it so casually that Gu Tingchuan felt his heart tremble. He suddenly remembered the file stating she was only nineteen—how could someone so young possess such a calm temperament? She was like an orchid growing on the edge of a cliff, blooming with grace even amidst the storm.
Outside the window, the sycamore leaves rustled, and a leaf drifted in, landing on the textbook.
Just as Shen Niantang reached to brush it away, Gu Tingchuan strode over. As he leaned in, he brought with him a breeze scented with soap and gun oil. His fingers froze just before touching her hair, and he ended up only plucking the leaf away.
"My apologies."
He spoke with a raspy voice, his ears burning bright red, and he retreated behind his desk as if fleeing.
Shen Niantang’s lips curled into a faint smile as she bowed her head to continue writing. The pen nib moved across the paper with a soft scratching sound, like a silkworm eating a mulberry leaf.
She was in the habit of leaning forward slightly as she wrote, exposing a patch of pale skin at the nape of her neck. Sunlight flowed along her spine, making her white shirt look almost translucent. Gu Tingchuan’s fountain pen hovered over his report for a long time, a drop of ink bleeding into a cloud-like stain.
"Shall I cover the ideals and beliefs in the first chapter?" Shen Niantang looked up suddenly.
Gu Tingchuan hurriedly shifted his gaze, pretending to study the military map on the wall, though his Adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably.
"Yes," his voice was tight, yet inexplicably melodic. "The soldiers have a weak academic foundation; keep the case studies simple and accessible."
She tapped her lips thoughtfully with the end of the pen and wrote "The Story of the Long March" on the paper. The gesture caused Gu Tingchuan’s breath to catch, like a petal falling on snow. He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the floor.
"I’m going to pour some tea."
He grabbed an enamel mug and rushed out the door, nearly colliding with a young soldier coming to deliver files.
In the hot water room at the end of the hall, Gu Tingchuan splashed cold water on his flushed face. His eyes were red at the corners; there was no trace of the "Iron-Blooded Commander" left. He gripped the enamel mug, his knuckles turning white, and cursed under his breath. It was just a few glances—why did he feel like a green recruit touching a rifle for the first time, hands shaking and heart racing?
When he returned, Shen Niantang was folding the corner of the lesson plan paper. Sunlight passed through her thin earlobe, revealing delicate blue veins. Gu Tingchuan placed the mug on the corner of the desk furthest from her. The tea sloshed out, scalding his thumb, but he didn't even notice.
"Finished?" he asked, his voice betraying an anticipation he didn't realize he possessed.
"Please take a look."
She handed the lesson plan to him with both hands, the movement of her sleeves revealing a small mole on her inner wrist. Gu Tingchuan held his breath as he took it; the paper still held the warmth of her palms. The handwriting was elegant, key points marked in red, and she had even drawn a simple mind map at the bottom. He imagined her frowning in thought, and his chest suddenly tightened with a sharp, sweet ache.
"Very good."
He deliberately used a professional tone to critique it, though his fingers caressed the spots where she had written. Gu Tingchuan froze. When he looked up, he met Shen Niantang’s mischievous gaze, the dimples at the corners of her mouth appearing vivid and bright.
The assembly whistle blew outside. Gu Tingchuan stood up as if granted a reprieve.
"I’m going to the training ground."
He grabbed his hat and pulled it down over his flushed forehead, only to be stopped at the door.
"Commander Gu."
Shen Niantang twirled the fountain pen. "I’m returning this to you."
He stood frozen as she gently twisted the cap back onto the pen. A secret, lingering trace of her remained upon it.
"Very well."
Gu Tingchuan took the pen and tucked it into his breast pocket.