Hand in hand: Turning hostility into peace.
The next day, Su Xiaoman and Xie Mingtu rode back together. The art troupe had stayed overnight at the unit, spreading out simple bedding and making do for the night—something everyone was used to since they often travelled for performances.
Early in the morning, Su Xiaoman parted ways with the troupe. The others still had to perform their large-scale model opera elsewhere, while she needed to return to the troupe compound to help make a batch of performance costumes.
Previously, one of the dancers had torn her skirt right before going on stage. Luckily, Su Xiaoman had been there—she used embroidery to stitch a rose over the tear, covering it perfectly. That was when the troupe discovered her skill.
For next month’s performance costumes, Director Zhang had asked Su Xiaoman to add embroidery details. She agreed, and the director even granted her a few extra days off to work on the clothes. She could handle the materials and procurement herself.
This gave her a bit of freedom—and truthfully, she had taken on the task on purpose, just to spend a few more days with her “dog.”
They sat together in a military truck, both dressed in green uniforms with matching red-star caps. Su Xiaoman sat in the corner while Xie Mingtu shielded her at his side, blocking the curious gazes of others.
Many people recognised her as the girl who performed the solo dance the night before—but as soon as they got on the truck, they realised she was already “taken.”
After entering the city, they got off the truck. Instead of heading straight back, Su Xiaoman pulled him to a photo studio. They took several photos together, and the photographer said they’d be ready in two or three days.
She nodded and told Xie Mingtu to remember to pick them up later. She planned to print ten copies—one for her parents, one for his grandparents, and several for themselves.
“If they turn out well, we can use one for our marriage certificate photo,” she said casually, linking her arm through his.
“Huh?!” Xie Mingtu froze. If this was going to be their official photo… had he not done well just now?
He had never taken proper photos at a studio before. When she told him how to pose, he’d been stiff and awkward, not knowing what to do. What if the pictures didn’t turn out good—how could they use them for a marriage certificate?
“What do you mean ‘huh’? You don’t like it?” she teased, standing on tiptoe to adjust his cap. The handsome face beneath it made her heart flutter—especially his side profile.
She’d still been a little annoyed with him last night, but the moment she saw his face this morning, all her anger disappeared.
Her dog really was too good-looking.
After three months, he’d completely transformed—his build, his aura, even the way he walked. His features had sharpened, and he carried a strong, masculine presence.
This was what a real man felt like.
“…What are you worried about?” she laughed, patting his cheek. With that face, he’d look good from any angle.
Xie Mingtu blinked. “Manman… shouldn’t our marriage photo be more… careful?”
“I’m worried I won’t look good enough… that I won’t match you.”
“What if our future grandchildren see it and think their grandpa doesn’t deserve their grandma?”
Su Xiaoman: “…”
He was thinking way too far ahead. They weren’t even officially married yet, and he was already worrying about grandchildren?
“…Grandpa not worthy of grandma?” she muttered, then added, “Better that than people thinking grandma isn’t worthy of grandpa…”
She had carefully looked at him earlier—there was nothing about him that didn’t look good. His clothes, hair, posture—everything was perfect.
But what about her?
She suddenly realised she hadn’t worn any makeup. Natural beauty was one thing—but a little lip colour, a bit of eyebrow definition… she could have looked even better.
“Did my hair look messy?”
“Are my eyebrows too light?”
“How was my complexion? Were my lips red enough? This is all your fault—I didn’t sleep well last night… how do my eyes look?”
Now she was the one getting anxious.
Xie Mingtu quickly reassured her, “Manman, you’re beautiful—really beautiful. Your eyebrows aren’t light, your complexion is good, your hair isn’t messy. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”
Though she wasn’t fully convinced, she still felt happy. Holding his hand, she nodded.
“Our marriage photos really should be taken more carefully.”
Next time, she’d prepare properly!
Maybe even mess up his hair a little and smudge his face—just to make herself stand out more.
Xie Mingtu had no idea what she was thinking. He was just happy.
They wandered around the city for a while, but no matter how much she tried to delay, they eventually returned to his grandparents’ house around noon.
The old couple was overjoyed to see them. Su Xiaoman helped prepare a full meal with Grandma Jiang, while Grandpa Jiang pulled Xie Mingtu aside for drinks.
She eagerly poured wine for them, hoping they’d drink a lot—maybe even enough to knock him out.
“Xiaotu, you’ve changed a lot these past three months,” Grandpa Jiang said, holding his cup.
Compared to his youthful look before, Xie Mingtu now wore a light spring shirt that perfectly outlined his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His expression was calm, mature, and striking.
Beside him, Su Xiaoman had also changed—months of dancing had refined her figure and given her movements a natural grace.
They looked like a perfect match.
“Come, have a couple of drinks with Grandpa.”
“Alright.”
But after just two cups, Xie Mingtu stopped. He wasn’t the same obedient guy who used to down drink after drink.
After finishing, he cast a knowing glance at Su Xiaoman.
She really wanted to kick him.
That kick from last night clearly hadn’t been hard enough.
After lunch, the grandfather and grandson continued drinking while Su Xiaoman went to wash up. She even washed her hair, then sat by the window, drying it in the soft afternoon sunlight.
As she grew drowsy and considered taking a nap, she was suddenly pulled into a warm, slightly alcohol-scented embrace.
Her sleepiness vanished.
*Why couldn’t Grandpa knock him out?* she thought.
Since Grandpa couldn’t, he was clearly planning to “deal with” her instead.
Xie Mingtu had just bathed—he smelled faintly of soap, with a hint of wine still on his breath. Despite drinking all morning, his eyes were bright and sharp.
The way he looked at her made her uneasy—like a wolf watching its prey, patient and calculating.
Not impatient at all—
…or maybe very much so.
The soft rustle of clothing followed, along with faint, uneven sounds of her muffled protests.
…
That night, only Xie Mingtu came out to eat. Grandma Jiang called him over and scolded him for quite a while.
“Look at you…”
“You need to be gentle with your wife—not so rough and reckless…”
Grandpa Jiang shook his head from the side. “A short separation makes a reunion feel like a honeymoon.”
After being scolded, Xie Mingtu carried his food back into the room. Su Xiaoman ate a few bites, then fell back into a deep sleep.
The next morning, she woke up early. After such exhaustion, sleeping so comfortably for so long had refreshed both her body and mind.
Like rain after a long drought.
Xie Mingtu hovered attentively by her side. The moment she opened her eyes and saw him, she stretched her leg out from under the thin blanket and kicked at him—but as soon as she used force, she sucked in a breath.
“Hiss—”
She’d pulled something.
Smiling, he caught her ankle and kissed the top of her foot. “Manman, where do you want to hit me? I’ll help you.”
She just wanted to smash his head.
Pulling her leg back, she thought resentfully about everything he’d done the day before—he’d practically kissed every inch of her, leaving no corner untouched, like a domineering little wolf marking its territory.
Even in her half-asleep state, she’d felt how “hardworking” he’d been.
She snorted inwardly. That guy was better suited to being a miner—black coal mines needed workers like him.
She ordered him to fetch her clothes. He eagerly offered to help her dress and got kicked away for it, yet still insisted he was worried he might have hurt her and asked if she felt uncomfortable.
She thought, *Shouldn’t the person who knows best whether I’m hurt be you, you idiot?*
She got dressed while he hovered around again, impossible to chase off. She was almost a little afraid of being alone with him now.
Just a few months ago, he’d been that silly guy asking, “Manman, can I kiss you?” Now he’d turned into this shameless creature?
Had she raised him wrong—turning a docile puppy into a possessive little wolf?
Or had he always been a wolf in disguise?
After breakfast, she still couldn’t resist curling up with him, hugging him as she listened to him talk about the past three months—his training, his friends, funny stories.
When he finished, he took her hand and placed it on his chest, asking what she thought.
The unspoken meaning: *Are you satisfied with what you experienced last night?*
Through the thin fabric, she could feel the strength beneath—especially when he took off his coat and was left in a black vest. It was… very impressive.
Her mind went blank.
Satisfied? Yes, quite satisfied.
But asking so bluntly felt a bit… smug.
“Not bad,” she replied casually. Three stars—room for improvement.
He looked a little disappointed, but being the type to persevere, he immediately resolved to do better.
She sensed danger instantly and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Doggy, this is already very good. Manman is very satisfied.”
To make it convincing, she rubbed against his chest. “You really don’t need to improve.”
He was already getting too creative—any more and she wouldn’t be able to handle it.
Painful… but enjoyable.
He laughed and pulled her onto his lap, face to face, their foreheads touching. Now and then, he nudged her nose with his.
Even without words, little gestures like this made them happy.
“You joined the art troupe?”
She nodded and told him about everything—how she got in, her daily training, and how she’d ended up performing at that morale boosting show.
She insisted it was just a coincidence—not done to surprise him.
Whether he believed her or not, he simply whispered, “I hope there are more coincidences like that in the future.”
She poked his stomach. “You’re too greedy.”
He rubbed his cheek against hers and said with certainty, “Manman loves me very, very much.”
Flustered, she retorted, “I never said that!”
This shameless guy never followed the usual rules—shouldn’t *she* be the one confessing first?
He smiled, eyes full of warmth. “Then I’ll say it—I love Manman very, very much.”
Her cheeks flushed. She tried to stand, but sitting like this kept reminding her of last night.
Her improved flexibility from dancing… had clearly benefited him.
He carried her into the room and showed her all the letters he’d written. She read them one by one, then hugged them tightly, asking him to make her a small wooden box to store them along with their marriage certificate.
…
The result was that she got so moved, she ended up “spoiling” him again.
Their time together was limited, so they cherished every moment, sticking together whenever they could. He even introduced her to a few comrades he’d met during training.
There was the excitable Shen Mingle, who, like him, had excellent physical ability and had been selected as a trainee pilot. Of course, that didn’t guarantee they’d become actual pilots.
Pilot training was long and demanding—after initial selection, there were years of study, and many would drop out. Those who made it through were rare.
Su Xiaoman was happy for him. She knew he loved this kind of thing—after driving tractors, he now wanted to fly planes. Given the chance, he’d definitely seize it—maybe even build planes or work in aerospace someday.
She smiled, imagining it, then thought about how she wished she had a camera back then to capture him driving a tractor.
If only she could record those moments…
If there were no records, she’d make them.
She secretly planned to save up for a camera. Next time they visited her parents, she’d make him drive tractors and trucks so she could take photos.
Those photos would become family treasures.
One day, she’d tell their children: “Your grandpa (your dad) back then…”—with photos as proof.
Standing beside her, Xie Mingtu had no idea what she was plotting.
“Old Xie, sister-in-law, want to grab a meal together?” Shen Mingle invited.
He truly hadn’t expected Xie Mingtu’s countryside wife to be this beautiful—and now part of the art troupe. That one dance had already made her countless young men’s dream girl.
Along with Shen Mingle were Zhang Yong and Zhu Zhifei, comrades he’d met during training. Zhu Zhifei had once nearly gotten into a fight with Zhang Yong over a nickname, only for Xie Mingtu—then like a ticking bomb—to step in…
…
The past wasn’t worth revisiting. In the end, they became friends.
“When Old Xie stepped in, everyone was shocked…” Zhang Yong and Zhu Zhifei were both big, strong men, while Xie Mingtu had looked like a tall, lean figure beside them.
At the time, they were ready to fight anyone who intervened—but somehow, he subdued them both.
…
They were completely convinced by him.
Later, when the two were punished, Xie Mingtu stayed with them. While they were exhausted, he still seemed full of energy, his wolf-like eyes dark and intense, as if venting something.
They suddenly felt he was terrifying.
What was he trying to do?
Was he mocking them?
In the end, the two of them made peace—hand in hand.
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