In the northwest border region, the north wind has already begun to blow.
Life in the military camp was as harsh as the sand and gravel of the Gobi Desert. Luo Qingrou, wrapped in a thick cotton military uniform, still looked somewhat thin. She had just finished treating several soldiers with frostbite and was rubbing her hands, which were red from the cold, when she lifted the thick curtain of Commander Lu Zheng's tent.
It was much warmer inside the tent than outside, and the charcoal brazier was burning brightly. Lu Zheng was frowning in thought as he faced the sand table when he heard a noise and looked up. His sharp gaze softened instantly when it met her slightly tired face.
"You're back? Come over here and warm yourself up." He put down the small flag in his hand, strode over, and naturally took her cold hand in his warm, broad palm, rubbing it.
Luo Qingrou's face flushed slightly, and she whispered, "It's okay, I'm not cold." She tried to pull her hand away, but he held it even tighter.
"Your hands are all red from the cold, and you still say you're not cold?" Lu Zheng's tone was authoritative as he pulled her to sit down by the charcoal brazier, poured her a steaming cup of ginger tea, and shoved it into her hand. "Drink it."
Luo Qingrou held the rough porcelain bowl, sipping the spicy ginger tea in small sips, the warmth spreading from her throat to every part of her body. Lu Zheng sat on a small stool beside her, his tall figure almost enveloping her, his gaze fixed on her face with scrutiny.
"What's wrong?" Luo Qingrou felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze.
Lu Zheng didn't speak, but reached out to brush a strand of hair that had been ruffled by the wind from her forehead. His fingertips, calloused from years of handling knives and guns, moved gently. His gaze finally settled on her jawline, which seemed thinner than before, and his brows furrowed slightly.
"Qingrou," he said in a low voice, with a hint of tension that was barely perceptible, "your period... is it late this month?"
Luo Qingrou's hand, holding the ginger tea, trembled suddenly, splashing a few drops of scalding tea onto the back of her hand, but she didn't notice. She looked up abruptly, meeting Lu Zheng's deep, cold eyes. There were no questions there, only an almost certain understanding and... an indescribable complex emotion. There was worry, tension, and a barely suppressed thrill of becoming a father for the first time.
She opened her mouth, wanting to deny it, wanting to say that the harsh cold of the border region had made her a little unwell. But under his all-knowing gaze, all pretense seemed pale and powerless. She lowered her eyes, staring at the dark brown ginger tea sloshing in the bowl, and nodded almost imperceptibly. Two blushes quickly rose on her cheeks, burning all the way to her ears.
The tent was quiet for a moment, with only the soft crackling of the charcoal fire and the two people's slightly rapid breathing.
Lu Zheng abruptly stood up, his tall figure casting a swaying shadow in the tent. He paced back and forth a couple of times, his steps heavy with the weight of a military general, yet tinged with a restless anxiety. He stopped abruptly, turned to face her, and said in a voice that left no room for argument: "Qingrou, listen to me. Once the winter defense deployment is stable and the snow melts in spring, making the roads easier to travel, I will immediately send someone to escort you back to the capital!"
"Back to the capital?" Luo Qingrou looked up in surprise.
"Yes!" Lu Zheng said urgently, "The conditions in the capital are better, with the best imperial physicians and the Prime Minister's residence to take care of you! You must go back and prepare for childbirth in peace! This harsh border region lacks medical care and medicine, and I absolutely cannot let you and the child take risks here!" His eyes were filled with undisguised worry and determination.
Luo Qingrou quietly watched him, noticing his tense jawline and the heavy concern in his eyes. A mixture of warmth and bittersweetness welled up inside her. She put down her ginger tea bowl, stood up, walked to him, looked up into his anxious eyes, and spoke softly, yet with unusual clarity and firmness:
"Lu Zheng, I'm not going back to the capital."
Lu Zheng's brows furrowed instantly: "Qingrou! Don't be willful! This is for your own good!"
“I’m not being willful.” Luo Qingrou interrupted him, her eyes clear and resolute, carrying the resilience honed by nearly a year of hardship on the border. “This place is bitterly cold, and lacks medical care. But here, you are.”
She paused, her voice softening yet gaining strength: "I, Luo Qingrou, am no longer the sheltered young lady who could only follow behind you and needed your protection. I am 'Little Doctor Luo' in this military camp. I know my own body and trust my master's (the old military doctor's) medical skills. Besides," she gently stroked her still flat belly, her eyes sparkling with maternal light and a strange, deeply rooted sense of belonging, "this child was conceived amidst the wind and sand of the frontier, in the tent where we share this place. I want him (her) to be born here, in our 'home'."
She glanced around the simply furnished tent, filled with the smell of leather and gunpowder, her gaze falling on the small stool she often sat on by the charcoal brazier, the medical books she had organized on the table, and Lu Zheng's sword hanging on the wall.
“I’ve already found a house in the border town not far from the camp.” She looked at Lu Zheng, her eyes filled with pleading and unwavering determination. “When I’m almost full-term, I’ll move there. My master promised to deliver the baby himself. Lu Zheng, let me stay. Our child should first hear the winds of the border, the horns of the land his father guards, not the music and dance of the capital.”
Lu Zheng stared intently at her, at the stubbornness and deep affection in her eyes that so contrasted sharply with her delicate appearance. Her words struck his heart like a hammer blow. Yes, she was no longer the fragile flower that needed his protection. She was a kapok tree that had stood shoulder to shoulder with him through life and death, taking root in this yellow sand.
His Adam's apple bobbed violently, his chest heaving. After a long while, he suddenly reached out and pulled the seemingly fragile yet incredibly resilient woman before him into a tight, tight embrace. The force was so great, as if he wanted to meld her into his very bones. He buried his face deep in the crook of her neck, which carried a faint herbal scent, his voice muffled, tinged with a barely perceptible sob and utter surrender:
"Okay... whatever you say. Whatever you say."
Outside the tent, the north wind howled across the Gobi Desert, causing the camp flags to flutter loudly. Inside, the charcoal fire was warm, and a silent warmth flowed between the two people embracing, nurturing new life and hope.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com