Chapter 58: Gu Tingxiao’s Letter
Sheng Wanyan returned to the office and immediately began tidying up her desk and drawers. She decided she would have to carry her knitting wool and personal projects home the very next day.
After all, the new head of the logistics department was scheduled to arrive the day after tomorrow. If anyone was caught slacking off or misusing office hours, the new boss would likely make a public example out of them. The clerks in the Propaganda Department were all incredibly sharp; they knew exactly when to keep a low profile to ensure they didn’t risk losing their stable state jobs.
Soon, the entire department was packed up. Even the stray roasted melon seeds and pastries hidden away in the back of their drawers were bundled into bags to be taken home. They made sure every desktop was entirely clear, leaving behind nothing but a water cup, official work materials, and basic stationery. If they inadvertently offended the new logistics director right out of the gate, it would become incredibly difficult to secure their seasonal benefits or even apply for standard office supplies down the line. Everyone simply wanted to preserve the comfortable, easygoing work environment they had enjoyed for so long.
As Sheng Wanyan was clocking out for the evening, she crossed paths with the outgoing director of logistics, who had returned to clear out his personal office. The high-spirited, confident aura he usually carried had completely vanished, replaced by a visible, heavy dejection. Yet, his eyes remained remarkably bright and clear; it was obvious he harbored neither regret nor shame in his heart.
In his mind, the student who had turned traitor and denounced his own professor was the one who should be consumed by shame. An old proverb dictated that a teacher was a father for life; how could anyone commit such a vile act? The director was simply a filial son looking after his flesh and blood—he had nothing to hang his head over.
Still, the reality was brutal. His parents were both well over sixty years old and were now forced to endure the harsh physical toll of a labor camp, and his children’s futures would inevitably be tainted by his political downfall. Although his wife had chosen to protect herself rather than share his heavy burden, he knew he had no right to demand that she ruin her own life to suffer alongside him. When disaster struck, it was human nature to flee for survival. As long as she didn’t add insult to injury by fabricating lies to the committee, he could accept the divorce.
He only worried for his children. If they didn’t formally sign the papers to sever ties with him, their future prospects in the city would be completely ruined. This was especially true for his daughters; with a politically compromised father, how could they ever hold their heads up high under a husband’s roof?
Fortunately, he was a pragmatic administrator who had carefully arranged his fallback options. The remote region where he and his parents were being exiled happened to be the ancestral hometown of a close wartime comrade. That old brother-in-arms currently served as the deputy director of the local Public Security Bureau, and since the director had once saved his life on the battlefield, the man owed him a debt of absolute loyalty.
Furthermore, the director had long since secretly funneled a substantial reserve of cash and provisions to his elderly parents. He would never allow them to face the wilderness hungry or cold. He had also distributed a fair inheritance to his children to keep them secure in the city. He refused to believe he couldn’t eventually turn his fortunes around, but even if he remained exiled forever, he had ensured his parents wouldn’t starve on the streets.
As he walked through the courtyard, the factory workers watched him with a complex mixture of deep sympathy and subtle mockery. The societal mindset of this era was tragically rigid: the moment a person was reported and politically compromised, no matter how respected or high-spirited they had been, the public would subconsciously distance themselves, treating them with a layer of performance-based disdain.
But when Sheng Wanyan caught the fierce, unyielding light in the director’s eyes, she knew with absolute certainty that this man would survive his four years of exile. He was an incredibly diligent and calculated strategist; a man doesn’t secure and hold the directorship of a massive state logistics department by being foolish. He had almost certainly pulled the necessary strings to insulate his family, patiently biding his time until the political tides turned.
The moment the director disappeared behind his office door to wrap up his files, the lingering crowd dissolved, and everyone hurried out of the gates.
Sheng Wanyan kept her head down, refusing to meddle in affairs that didn’t concern her, and pedaled her bicycle toward home. Before leaving her secluded alleyway, she reached into her spatial dimension and pulled out a three-kilogram cut of fresh pork to bring to her mother.
As she rode, her mind kept drifting back to Gu Tingxiao. More than half a month had passed since his deployment, yet his promised letter still hadn’t arrived at the post office. She wondered if she was falling into the trap of overthinking during the day only to chase shadows at night—perhaps even the heavens were getting tired of her impatience.
To her delight, her silent prayers were answered the very next morning. When she checked the postal counter, the clerk slid a substantial, heavy envelope toward her, stamped with a northern military postmark.
Sheng Wanyan eagerly tucked it into her bag and carried it straight home. After finishing a quick lunch, she locked her bedroom door and finally sat down to read the thick letter Gu Tingxiao had meticulously drafted for her.
The core message was simple and straightforward. He detailed his safe arrival at the regiment base, but every line vibrated with his intense longing and fierce concern for her welfare.
To Comrade Sheng Wanyan:
I have arrived safely at my unit, and everything here is fully in order. Please do not worry about my well-being.
Comrade Sheng Wanyan, by the time this letter successfully navigates the postal routes and lands in your hands, at least half a month will have passed. I cannot help but wonder: have you been faring well during these days?
Is your work at the office going smoothly?
Is your daily life safe and stable?
Have any interesting or amusing incidents occurred in your neighborhood that you might be willing to share with me?
If you have encountered anything that causes you unhappiness or distress, please, you must tell me.
Reading the repetitive, probing questions, Sheng Wanyan couldn’t help but let out a soft, amused laugh. She realized Gu Tingxiao was acting incredibly transparent.
He didn’t actually care about general neighborhood gossip; he was using roundabout, disciplined language to ask if any new suitors had emerged in the city to try and steal his girl. For a man who normally carried himself with such an icy, unyielding demeanor, his attempt to fish for information was hilariously subtle.
Wanyan felt a mixture of affection and mild exasperation. She could perfectly picture his severe, stoic face as he sat rigid at his military desk, his brow heavily furrowed as he meticulously chose each solemn word to write to her.
She turned the page, eager to see what else the commander had laid out.
The rest of the text was packed with protective reminders. He repeatedly ordered her to look after her health, warned her not to act impulsively if she encountered trouble, and explicitly told her to put her own personal safety above all else. He added that if she ever faced an emergency she couldn’t resolve, she was to immediately call his unit’s secure line, providing the direct telephone number at the bottom of the stationery.
She had to admit, this rough, hardened soldier possessed an incredibly meticulous heart. Despite his massive, intimidating frame, his attention to personal detail was flawless. The text concluded cleanly with the formal sign-off: “Authored by Gu Tingxiao.”
Sheng Wanyan noticed the envelope still felt unusually heavy. She tipped the opening downward over her desk, and a thick stack of currency and paper coupons tumbled out onto the wood. She blinked in sheer astonishment, staring down at the wealth spread before her.
No wonder he had repeatedly told her not to endure any hardships or allow herself to fall into a difficult financial position. He had literally emptied his pockets and mailed her his entire personal reserve. There was an undeniable, profound difference between a woman having to demand financial support from a man and a man eagerly, voluntarily turning over everything he owned to secure her comfort.
Wanyan carefully counted the cash and tickets. The envelope contained a crisp two hundred yuan, accompanied by twelve national food coupons, five premium pastry tickets, a coveted watch coupon, and a luxury thermos coupon.
Gu Tingxiao had anticipated everything. Terrified that her hands and feet would grow painfully cold during the damp Chengdu winter, he had tracked down a rare thermos ticket specifically for her. The watch ticket was another incredible luxury—something the original owner had never dreamed of possessing, and an item Wanyan had avoided pulling from her space to escape neighborhood scrutiny. Yet, Gu Tingxiao had noted her empty wrist and quietly resolved the issue.
The two hundred yuan represented years of meticulous military savings. While it was true that his salary was technically tied to his family’s main estate, a decorated officer of his rank was still permitted to retain a small, ten-yuan monthly stipend for personal upkeep. Since the military provided his housing, uniforms, and daily rations entirely for free, he had virtually no personal expenses at the base. His only consistent monthly layout was quietly sponsoring a few yuan to aid his severely wounded or retired comrades.
Prior to his deployment to Chengdu, Gu Tingxiao had managed to accumulate a little over two hundred yuan. He had immediately taken eighty yuan of that fund to trade with fellow officers to secure the rare watch and thermos coupons. He had then packed every remaining copper cent into the envelope to send to Wanyan, completely depleting his personal cash reserve. He had even resolved to temporarily pause his monthly donations to his platoon mates.
After all, he had a more urgent mission now: he had to aggressively hoard funds to marry his wife!
From this moment on, Sheng Wanyan held absolute executive control over his finances, and she was free to spend his earnings exactly as she pleased. When a man was single, he could afford to live carelessly and ignore financial planning; but the moment he claimed a partner, providing for her comfort became his primary duty.
Sheng Wanyan neatly sorted the cash and tickets, transferring them securely into her spatial warehouse. Staring at the massive layout of wealth Gu Tingxiao had entrusted to her, she reasoned it was morally impossible to simply pocket his life savings and send a basic, empty letter back in return. Doing so would be entirely unprincipled—it simply wasn’t how a decent human being operated.
Wanyan slipped into her temporal dimension and marched straight to her storage warehouse. She searched through her inventory, pulling out premium batches of homemade dried meat jerky, savory spicy gluten strips, rich mushroom beef chili sauce, and an assortment of sun-dried mountain fruits she had processed earlier.
She carefully packaged ten heavy jars and bundles of each item. She calculated the volume, ensuring she had prepared an identical, matching crate of provisions to mail out to her older brother, Sheng Wanze, as well. Balancing her distributions perfectly was the best way to keep everyone well-nourished without causing a single drop of jealousy.
