Chapter 17: Empty House, Learning to Be Independent

The roar of the engine completely disappeared in the distance, sweeping away not only the military green SUV, but also the last trace of human life in the house.

Su Wanqing stood alone in the entrance hall. The morning light filtered through the glass door, casting a cold, shimmering spot on the floor. A faint, cold scent, belonging to Huo Tingxiao, mingled with the fumes of an SUV, lingered in the air. But this scent was rapidly dissipating, swallowed up by the inherent, empty silence of the house.

She turned slowly.

As far as the eye can see, there is a spacious but cold living room, a cold and reflective kitchen countertop, a tightly closed study door, and a silent staircase leading to the second floor.

null.

An unprecedented sense of emptiness surged from all directions like a tide, wrapping her tightly.

This time, leaving without saying goodbye was more suffocating than her absence on the wedding day. At least there was a noisy scene and unfamiliar eyes to distract her, but now, she was alone, facing this huge, exquisite, yet cold empty house like a luxurious cage.

She subconsciously tightened her arms and hugged herself. Her fingertips touched the skin on her arms, which was cold.

She slowly walked to the living room sofa and sat down. The soft leather supported her weight, but offered no comfort. The room was eerily quiet; she could clearly hear the slow beat of her heart and the faint hum of blood coursing through her eardrums.

She recalled the scene of Huo Tingxiao leaving. The way he put on his combat boots was neat and decisive; the way he shouldered his bag was heavy but unwavering; the way he got into the car was without the slightest hesitation or lingering thought.

He didn't even look back at her.

It was as if her existence, her worries, and any of her emotions had nothing to do with the extremely important mission he was about to undertake, and were so insignificant that they were not worth mentioning.

"Take good care of yourself."

The words he'd left behind when he'd last departed pierced her heart like a cold needle. How could this be considered caring? It was clearly a procedural instruction, a disclaimer to avoid trouble.

She leaned back on the sofa, closed her eyes, and tried to dispel the sourness and powerlessness in her heart.

This can't go on any longer.

She couldn't be trapped in this gorgeous cage forever like an accessory waiting to be summoned but potentially forgotten at any time, relying on the occasional, meaningless "maintenance" bestowed by that indifferent man.

She had to do something.

For yourself.

She opened her eyes and slowly scanned the elegantly decorated yet lifeless living room. Everything here, from the placement of the furniture to the style of the decor, bore the profound imprint of Huo Tingxiao's personal taste—cold, simple, efficient, and repulsive.

But now, this was her home. At least in name only.

She stood up, walked to the window, and flung open the heavy curtains. Sunlight poured in, instantly dispelling the gloom in the room and illuminating the tiny particles of dust dancing in the air.

She needs light.

She needs to change.

She took action.

She started in the kitchen. She unloaded the brand-new yet never-used utensils one by one, wiped them clean, and arranged them conveniently. She opened the refrigerator, taking inventory of the scant supplies, mostly instant food and drinks. She pulled out a sheet of paper and began carefully writing down a list of ingredients she needed to buy. This was where she would cook, her favorite home-cooked meals with a Southern flair, letting the warmth of home dispel the cold.

Then, she walked into the nearly empty guest room, which she was temporarily using as storage. She found a few cardboard boxes she had brought with her, containing her own books, some decorative paintings and small ornaments, as well as an old vase and a hand-embroidered tablecloth left to her by her grandmother.

She wiped the books carefully and arranged them according to category on the empty corner shelf in the study, juxtaposing them with Huo Tingxiao's cold, hard military and political books. Although the styles were very different, they unexpectedly formed a delicate balance. She hung the elegant painting depicting the Jiangnan water town on a blank wall in the living room, spread the embroidery tablecloth on the cold glass coffee table, washed Grandma's vase, filled it with clean water, and picked a few unknown wild flowers from the yard to put in it.

After doing all this, she stood in the middle of the living room and looked around.

The house was still large and quiet, but something seemed different. Those little things that belonged to her, bearing traces of her past life and her personal touch, began to quietly cling to the cold soil like tiny vines, stubbornly announcing their presence.

She even found an old Bluetooth speaker, connected it to her phone, and played her favorite light music. The soothing melody flowed out, breaking the silence and bringing life.

At noon, she walked to the service center alone according to the list and carefully selected fresh vegetables and meat. After returning, she tied an apron and started busying herself in the kitchen.

The sounds of chopping vegetables, cooking, and bubbling soup pots... these most ordinary sounds of life rang out in this house for the first time, full of clumsy but real vitality.

The aroma of food gradually spread, dispelling the smell of disinfectant and coldness.

She sat alone at the dining table, quietly finishing the two dishes and a soup she had cooked. The taste might not be as good as that of a chef, but it was her own taste.

That afternoon, she didn't just read or daydream as usual. She pulled out her notebook and began searching online, browsing job sites and looking into various vocational training and adult education courses in Beijing. She needed a job, or at least a career that would give her a foothold and a sense of meaning. She couldn't remain a captive canary forever, even if that canary lived in the headquarters building of a military compound.

She also had to find a way to get the puppy hidden in the utility shed away as quickly as possible. Xia Xiaoran seemed to have some ideas and had contacted a reliable volunteer at the rescue station.

Each thing was listed in the notebook, clearly and concisely.

The sunlight outside the window gradually sets in the west, dyeing the room a warm orange.

Su Wanqing closed her notebook and walked to the window.

The yard was still quiet, but slogans could be faintly heard from the training ground in the distance, and further away, the outline of the city was gleaming with vitality in the setting sun.

The house was still empty, but the void in her heart seemed to be filling up little by little.

Dependence and waiting cannot bring respect and stability.

Only by being independent can you take root in this cold soil.

She took a deep breath, the air mixed with the lingering aroma of food, the faint scent of wildflowers in the vase, and... her own growing determination.

Huo Tingxiao's world is huge, with his battlefield and mission.

And her world should not be just this cold world and that distant, icy husband.

She has to learn to be independent.

Not only in life, but also psychologically.

Since this marriage started with a transaction and substitution, she must take more initiative in how to go in the future.

The afterglow of the setting sun fell on her quiet profile, outlining a soft yet firm light.

The empty home is quietly changing.

And she has already taken the first step towards independence.