Mingzhao received an affirmative answer, and his tense nerves finally relaxed.
As she watched Howard turn away to clear the dishes, that familiar sense of composure and reliability that belonged to a soldier enveloped her once again.
Deep down, a sense of relief welled up inside her. Luckily, she had met Howard, who was a good superior.
Within the Alliance, under the ironclad rule of the Supreme Constitution, "presumption of guilt," any slightest suspicion is enough to send her to the highest level of consciousness censorship prison.
The technology there can precisely scan every memory of hers, analyze every fluctuation of her brainwaves, and forcibly dig into the deepest secrets of her mind, no matter how much pain and damage it may cause her.
Once suspected, there is no such thing as innocence until technology proves you "guilty" or "completely exonerated," but this often ends with the prisoner's mental breakdown.
But here, in the seemingly backward 1970s, with a far from perfect legal system, in front of this soldier named Howard... although he had doubts and even questioned him, he ultimately chose "presumption of innocence."
He did not immediately take her to the authorities for investigation, nor did he use any coercive means to extract a confession. Instead, he suppressed his doubts and gave her books, giving her a chance to catch her breath and learn.
This clumsy, suspicious protection, in the clear understanding of interstellar space, is a luxurious form of "benevolence".
She met a good superior. A superior who was willing to give her a way out within the rules.
When Howard returned after washing the dishes, he saw Mingzhao sitting quietly at her desk, her fingers unconsciously drawing something on the table, her eyes focused, as if the turbulent waves just now were just a dream.
Sunlight streamed through the dusty glass window, casting a soft glow on her pale profile. Her focused expression momentarily captivated him.
He shook his head, suppressing the strange feeling in his heart, and said in a deep voice, "I'm going out for a bit to take care of something, and I'll find you a book while I'm at it. The door... I'll lock it. You..."
He paused, then said, "Don't run around, and don't open the door for anyone."
Mingzhao raised her head and looked at him, her eyes clear and without any dissatisfaction, she simply nodded slightly.
Lock the door? She understood; it was part of the regulatory process.
Howard gave her a deep look, then turned and strode out of the house, locking the door behind him. The metal latch clicked softly, isolating the inside from the outside.
He stood in the courtyard, not leaving immediately, but his sharp gaze swept across the low courtyard wall like a searchlight.
The apartment next door, number 16, was quiet, with the windows tightly shut. But he could sense that there were definitely eyes watching from behind that window.
Howard's eyes were icy. Wang Xiufen...it seems I need to find an opportunity to give this well-meaning neighbor a proper "reminder".
He didn't linger any longer and quickly pushed his bicycle away.
He needed to go to the regimental headquarters, to the military region library, and also... to talk to Jiang Feng again.
The suspicions surrounding Mingzhao were like a thorn in his heart; he had to find out the truth!
But before that, he had to keep his promise and bring the book back to her.
He got on his bicycle and quickly disappeared into the alleyway.
Inside the cabin, Mingzhao listened to the distant sound of the bicycle bell and slowly withdrew his gaze.
She walked to the window, looked at the blurry reflection on the dusty glass, and went to the kitchen to fetch a bowl of water.
With the water stains on the table dried, he began to sketch out an extremely complex, interstellar-style miniature energy conversion formula on the dusty windowsill.
Her eyes regained their calm yet burning light. Books were the key. She needed to unlock the "locks" of this era as soon as possible.
Behind the low wall outside the window, Wang Xiufen cautiously peeked out half her face, watching Huo Hua walk away, then glanced at the tightly locked door of room number 17, a cold, calculating look on her face.
She tiptoed back to her yard and grabbed a dusty old notebook and a broken pencil stub from the corner.
"That mute new bride in Commander Huo's family... is very strange! She's drawing strange symbols in the house... could it be... some kind of superstitious ritual? Or... some kind of shady communication diagram?"
She licked her lips excitedly as she wrote in her crooked handwriting.
This is a huge weakness! She needs to write an anonymous tip-off right away!
...
Shortly after Howard left, two young soldiers arrived with some of Howard's belongings, including the books he usually read.
After greeting Mingzhao, as if aware of her situation and unconcerned by her merely nodding, he and another person began laying electrical wires in the courtyard and even installing lights in several rooms. After briefly explaining to Mingzhao how to turn the lights on and off, he kindly added that it was fine to turn them off when not in use or when there was sufficient natural light.
Mingzhao nodded and watched the person leave.
Wang Xiufen, who lived next door, was watching her daughter-in-law do laundry when she saw this and spat, "They don't even know to offer a bowl of water when someone comes over. They have no manners at all."
Then, looking at her daughter-in-law who was still washing clothes, she said, "What are you looking at? Hurry up and wash them. What will my son wear tomorrow if they're not clean? He can't even lay an egg all day, and he doesn't know how to do any work. He's going to be a plague!"
The daughter-in-law bit her lower lip and continued washing clothes without saying a word.
...
Howard rode his bicycle with simple luggage he had brought from his dormitory strapped to the back: a roll of bedding, a net bag containing a washbasin and toiletries, and a brand-new radio box with the "Red Light" logo hanging on the handlebars.
He first went to the military region's security department.
Jiang Feng's office was filled with smoke. Huo Hua reported Mingzhao's situation without any concealment, especially the fact that she had drawn the core structural diagram of the fighter jet with water. His tone was heavy, and his eyes were complicated.
"Captain Jiang, that's the situation. She drew it out, and it's more refined than the drawings I received the other day."
Howard's fingers tapped unconsciously on the table, revealing his inner turmoil. "I asked her, but she couldn't explain. She could only remain silent."
Jiang Feng stubbed out his cigarette, his brows furrowing deeply. His sharp gaze scrutinized Huo Hua: "Old Huo, what's your assessment?"
Howard was silent for a few seconds, then his voice was low but clear: "I can't completely rule her out. The ability to produce these blueprints is far beyond what's common sense. A mute who has been abused for a long time and is almost speechless... that doesn't make sense."
He paused, then changed the subject with an almost stubborn insistence, "But, Captain Jiang, I believe more in her injuries! You've seen Dr. Gong's diagnosis report; it couldn't have been faked! I believe more in her counterattack under Huang Weiguo's gun! It was the instinct of a victim driven to the brink! Right now... all she wants to do is read."
He also described the word "book" that Mingzhao struggled to utter, and the pure, almost obsessive longing in his eyes.
Jiang Feng leaned back in his chair and exhaled a long smoke ring: "I understand how you feel. It's heartbreaking, but also conflicting. But Lao Huo, I have to remind you of the bottom line we agreed on from the beginning—national interests come first. If she really is a 'dormant' pawn being cultivated, even if there's only a one in ten thousand chance, we must keep her under control and observe her until she's fully activated."
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