After looking at the sketch, Wen Qiao took out a letter from the envelope.
My wife personally declares:
Seeing this letter is like seeing the person in person...
His letters were written in a very formal style, just like him—old-fashioned, conservative, and even somewhat aloof.
Wen Qiao thought about his serious expression when he wrote the letter.
He couldn't help but smile.
He wrote about his situation in the letter.
They made no mention of the shabby conditions in the duty room, but instead said that the soldier on duty had given him the only room that didn't let in any draft.
He said that they had lost power and that a blizzard might be coming soon, so the patrol duties were very heavy.
If a blizzard hits and the snow isn't cleared in time, the entire military region could lose power, which is a serious and significant event.
He said he wasn't busy and it was easier for him to calm down when he was on duty.
Wen Qiao paused while reading the letter, wondering what Shen Jichuan meant by "calm down".
She thought it might be about things in Beicheng online.
He, a veteran who had been on the battlefield, was forced to come to the Northwest because of some absurd rumors.
Putting aside how harsh the environment is here, he, a deputy division commander, still has to patrol the border defense line.
Given his status in the North City, everyone who saw him had to respectfully call him "Commander".
Now that he's in the Northwest, Wen Qiao remembers Shen Jichuan saying that he feels like an ancient general who has been sent down to the frontier.
This is neither Ningguta nor Lingnan.
Instead, what's needed is people to develop the land and create the Great Northwest, the nation's granary.
Is Shen Jichuan worried that he will be stuck in the Northwest for the rest of his life and will never be able to go back to Beicheng?
He briefly described some of his experiences on the border.
He said the snow was thick and the spring water was cold.
He said there were many fish in the puddles, and they would grill and eat the fish while on patrol.
In his letter, he asked how she was feeling and whether her baby was making any trouble.
He also asked if the family's nanny had mistreated her.
He said that if you need anything, just spend money to buy it; there's no need to be frugal.
He rarely rambled on, and when he did express his concern, he would simply write a few words.
Finally, I wrote: Wen Qiao, I miss you so much.
He was always so serious, even when he said he missed someone, he was very earnest and solemn.
In a daze, Wen Qiao seemed to see a person dressed in military uniform, wearing a thick protective hat, carrying a patrol pistol at his waist, walking along the border line with uneven, deep snow on his feet.
He would occasionally stop to observe his surroundings, and once he made sure everything was alright, he would continue forward.
He wasn't alone, but part of a group.
Wen Qiao seemed to see Shen Jichuan beside the blazing stove, wearing his favorite black sweater, writing this letter to her at his desk.
Sometimes he would be writing letters at his desk, and sometimes he would look up at the snow scene outside the window.
After reading the letter, Wen Qiao carefully folded and put it away.
She took out a brush and paper, intending to write a reply.
Every month, someone would send supplies to the border. Wen Qiao was thinking that at the end of the month, she could have the supply truck take this letter over there for her.
There was still time, so she thought she would make a few more pairs of thick cotton socks and warm gloves for Shen Jichuan.
Prepare a few pieces of clothing that you like.
Food, yes, we need to prepare some food too.
It was so cold there that they couldn't cook properly while on patrol, so she thought for a moment and decided to make some jerky.
Wen Qiao's cooking skills were taught by her mother, Lü Yazhi.
When Wen Qiao was very young, while her biological father was still alive, her mother would always cook different kinds of food for them.
At that time, Wen Qiao asked curiously, "Mom, how do you know how to make so many delicious dishes?"
Her mother smiled but said nothing.
Her father whispered in her ear: "Your mother used to be a young lady from a wealthy family. Your maternal grandfather even cooked for the emperor."
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