I had barely sat down when Tần Nhược Lam pushed a glass toward me.

“Sister-in-law, since this is our first meeting, you have to drink with me.”

The glass was filled almost to the brim with strong liquor.

I stared at it for two seconds.

My stomach had been weak since childhood. Even ordinary food could make me ill if I wasn’t careful, let alone alcohol.

Before I could refuse, a hand reached across the table and took the glass away.

Tống Nghiêm.

“She doesn’t drink.”

His tone was flat, leaving no room for discussion.

For some reason, my heart still trembled.

Perhaps habits were frightening things.

Even after deciding to divorce him, one small gesture of protection was enough to make the foolish part of me wonder whether I had misunderstood everything.

But Tần Nhược Lam laughed.

“Brother Nghiêm, you’ve only been married one day and you’re already protecting your wife?”

Someone at the table immediately joined in.

“Of course! Captain Tống finally has a wife. If he doesn’t protect her, who will?”

Laughter erupted.

Tống Nghiêm said nothing.

He simply placed the glass beside his own bowl.

Tần Nhược Lam looked at it, and the smile in her eyes faded slightly.

Then, almost casually, she said:

“That’s strange. I remember Brother Nghiêm used to say he hated delicate women the most.”

The laughter stopped again.

My fingers tightened beneath the table.

She continued as though reminiscing about an ordinary memory.

“Back then, whenever I got injured during field interviews, he would tell me not to cry. He said people who chose this kind of life couldn’t afford to be fragile.”

Chen Kai coughed awkwardly.

“Ruolan, eat something.”

But she ignored him.

Instead, she turned toward me.

“Sister-in-law, don’t misunderstand. Brother Nghiêm has always been like this. Cold outside, warm inside.”

I smiled faintly.

“I know.”

Those two words seemed to surprise everyone.

Only I knew how much effort it took to say them calmly.

Of course I knew.

I knew Tống Nghiêm didn’t like women who were weak.

I knew he admired courage.

I knew he respected people who could stand beside him in dangerous places.

And I knew I was none of those things.

I had grown up taking medicine more often than sweets.

Cold weather made me sick.

A little exhaustion could leave me bedridden for days.

Before our marriage, whenever I imagined becoming Tống Nghiêm’s wife, I had foolishly believed differences didn’t matter.

I thought if I loved him carefully enough, perhaps one day he would love me too.

Now I finally understood.

Some distances could not be crossed by effort.

The dishes soon arrived.

Most were spicy.

I quietly picked some vegetables from the edge of the plate.

Tống Nghiêm noticed.

Without saying anything, he moved a bowl of steamed egg in front of me.

“Eat this.”

Tần Nhược Lam’s chopsticks paused.

Then she smiled.

“Brother Nghiêm, you still remember how to take care of people.”

Still.

That single word landed heavily.

Tống Nghiêm looked at her.

She lowered her eyes and picked up some food.

“When I first came to the unit, I couldn’t eat spicy food either. Brother Nghiêm used to ask the kitchen to make separate dishes for me.”

Someone laughed.

“That was years ago.”

“Yes.”

Tần Nhược Lam smiled.

“Years ago.”

I suddenly lost my appetite.

The steamed egg in front of me was soft and warm, but I couldn’t swallow another bite.

Under the table, I slowly pressed my hand against the document bag resting beside my leg.

Inside were two divorce agreements.

I had originally planned to give them to Tống Nghiêm before coming here.

Now I thought perhaps this was better.

At least I wouldn’t hesitate anymore.

Halfway through the meal, someone suggested a toast to celebrate Tần Nhược Lam staying.

Everyone stood.

Tống Nghiêm stood too.

I remained seated.

Tần Nhược Lam raised her glass, her eyes slightly red.

“I know everyone worried about me.”

She looked around the room.

Finally, her gaze stopped on Tống Nghiêm.

“I had already decided to leave.”

Her voice became softer.

“But yesterday, someone spent half the night persuading me not to make a decision I would regret.”

My heart seemed to stop.

Yesterday.

Our wedding night.

I slowly turned toward Tống Nghiêm.

He didn’t deny it.

Tần Nhược Lam continued:

“So I changed my mind.”

She raised her glass toward him.

“Brother Nghiêm, thank you.”

Tống Nghiêm’s jaw tightened.

“Enough.”

But everyone had already understood.

So had I.

The emergency mission.

That was what he had told me.

That was what I had believed.

I suddenly found the entire situation absurd.

Last night, I had sat beneath the red wedding decorations until dawn, afraid something had happened to him.

Meanwhile, he had been persuading another woman to stay.

I lowered my eyes and laughed quietly.

Tống Nghiêm immediately looked at me.

“Vãn Thanh?”

“I’m fine.”

“You look pale.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Perhaps my voice was too calm.

His brows drew together.

He reached for my wrist, but before his fingers could touch me, I stood.

“I’m going home.”

“I’ll take you.”

“No.”

His expression darkened.

“I brought you here.”

“And I know the way back.”

I picked up my bag.

Tần Nhược Lam suddenly stood too.

“Sister-in-law, are you angry?”

Everyone looked at me.

I turned toward her.

She seemed genuinely concerned.

“If it’s because of what I just said, don’t misunderstand. Brother Nghiêm and I are already in the past.”

I smiled.

“Miss Tần, you don’t need to explain your past to me.”

She froze.

“Whether you stay or leave, whether he persuaded you or not, that’s between the two of you.”

I paused.

“It has nothing to do with me.”

This time, it was Tống Nghiêm whose expression changed.

He stood abruptly.

“Hạ Vãn Thanh.”

I didn’t answer.

I simply walked away.

Behind me, his footsteps followed almost immediately.

He caught my wrist at the staircase.

“What did you mean?”

I looked down at his hand.

“Let go.”

Instead, he tightened his grip.

“Finish what you were saying at home.”

So he remembered.

I thought he hadn’t even been listening.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then I quietly said:

“I wanted a divorce.”

His hand suddenly went still.

The noise from the dining room seemed very far away.

Tống Nghiêm stared at me.

“What?”

“I went to see a lawyer this morning.”

I opened my bag.

Before I could take out the papers, Chen Kai rushed down the stairs.

“Captain!”

He was breathless.

“There’s an urgent call from headquarters.”

Tống Nghiêm didn’t turn around.

Chen Kai hesitated.

“Captain, they need you immediately.”

I looked at Tống Nghiêm.

For the first time since marrying him, I didn’t feel disappointed.

Perhaps because I had finally stopped expecting him to choose me.

“Go.”

He stared at me for several seconds.

“We’ll talk tonight.”

“All right.”

His eyes remained fixed on my face.

“Wait for me.”

I nodded.

“Okay.”

Only then did he release my wrist and leave with Chen Kai.

I watched his back disappear through the courtyard.

Then I returned home alone.

The red wedding decorations were still everywhere.

The character for double happiness remained pasted crookedly above the bed.

I took it down.

Then I removed the red bedding and folded it carefully.

By midnight, the house no longer looked like a bridal room.

At one in the morning, Tống Nghiêm still hadn’t returned.

At two, rain began falling outside.

At three, I placed the divorce agreement on the table.

I had already signed my name.

Hạ Vãn Thanh.

Three neat characters.

Beside the papers, I placed the wedding ring he had given me.

Then I packed one small suitcase.

There wasn’t much to take.

This house had never truly become mine.

Before leaving, I looked around one final time.

Strangely, I didn’t cry.

I only felt tired.

Very, very tired.

I closed the door quietly behind me.

What I didn’t know was that less than twenty minutes later, a military jeep stopped violently outside.

Tống Nghiêm jumped out before the engine had even been turned off.

His uniform was soaked from the rain.

There was blood on his sleeve.

He pushed open the door.

“Vãn Thanh?”

No answer.

His gaze swept across the empty room.

Then he saw the papers on the table.

For several seconds, he didn’t move.

Slowly, he picked them up.

His eyes stopped on my signature.

Then on the ring beside it.

The man who had remained calm even under gunfire suddenly crushed the edge of the paper in his fist.

And beneath the divorce agreement was a second note.

Only one sentence was written on it.

This time, don’t come looking for me.