"I haven't washed my hair for three days." Zheng Wanqing shyly tried to push him away, her fingertips twisting the corner of her clothes unconsciously, with a hint of embarrassment in her tone. Unlike back home, where she could use jasmine dew to nourish her hair every day, in this simple camp in the southern suburbs, even hot water became a luxury.

Xie Yun chuckled, stroking his palm through her sweaty hair: "I think you are most attractive like this." As he spoke, he gently touched the tip of her nose with his fingertips, "It's cold and you've sweated a lot, it's easy to get sick. I'll ask someone to prepare hot water, so you can wash away this fatigue."

There was a sudden knock on the door, breaking the warm atmosphere.

Xie Yun reluctantly let go of her embrace, but still held her hand and kissed her on the lips, "Wait for me to come." His voice was low and gentle, as intoxicating as aged wine.

The sound of his military boots stepping on the wooden floor completely disappeared at the end of the corridor. Zheng Wanqing was still standing there, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the back of her hand that he had just kissed.

After a long while, she remembered the matter at hand. She moved to the old desk with peeling paint and sat down. A pile of documents and maps were neatly stacked on the table. She reached out to open the drawer, wanting to find a letter, and at this moment, a plain envelope suddenly caught her sight.

"Xie Yun's personal letter" The four beautiful small characters were eye-catching and instantly attracted her attention. Zheng Wanqing's hand was suspended in the air, and her heart skipped a beat. The handwriting was clear and graceful, and every stroke was full of the unique elegance of a woman.

Her fingertips stayed on the envelope for a moment, and for a moment, she could hardly control her inner impulse to open the envelope and take a look. But in the end, she took a deep breath, suppressed her curiosity, picked up the letter beside her, and then closed the drawer.

She took out her enamel fountain pen and unscrewed the cap. When she dipped the pen tip into ink, she scraped the bottle mouth twice. The "rustling" sound was particularly clear in the silent room where you could hear a pin drop.

"Ji Chen..." As the pen stroked the paper, the tip of the pen left lines of beautiful and graceful handwriting on the letter.

"The current situation is difficult, so I am writing to you without hesitation." Her pen tip paused, and a drop of ink unexpectedly fell on the "paper", leaving a small dark mark. She was startled and hurriedly stretched out her fingertips to wipe it, but it made the ink stain spread further. This accident reminded her of the beautifully written letter in the drawer, and her heart suddenly tightened.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her inner turmoil, raised her hand to gently tuck the hair that had fallen to her cheeks behind her ears. Then, she tightened her grip on the pen again and continued to write: "People are displaced, doctors are exhausted..." She wrote each word with great emphasis, as if she wanted to carve the groans of those in front of the sickbed into the paper.

After she finished writing the last "盼复", she gently blew away the ink. The crisp sound of the letter being folded startled the lamp wick from bursting.

The north wind, carrying snow particles, hit the window frames, making a crackling sound, like countless tiny claws scratching the glass.

The cold wind quietly came in through the cracks in the window. It was like a cold little snake, crawling up Zheng Wanqing's skin, and the chill spread instantly, making her shiver slightly. However, this chill also inadvertently wiped away some of the worries in her heart.

She thought to herself: between husband and wife, honesty is the most important thing. When Xie Yun comes back, she will find a suitable opportunity to ask him.

Zheng Wanqing sat alone on the edge of the bed, a kerosene lamp beside her emitting a lonely swaying halo. The dim light danced on her face, her eyes fell on the watch on her wrist, watching the hour hand and second hand turning tirelessly, time just slowly passed in silence.

Before I knew it, the night had deepened and everything was silent. Finally, the familiar sound of military boots was heard at the end of the corridor.

Zheng Wanqing stood up suddenly, walked quickly to the door, and the sleeves of her clothes almost extinguished the oil lamp.