The setting sun shone through the window lattice, casting mottled light and shadows on the floor of the newspaper office. Zheng Wanqing and Ji Chen sat opposite each other, and the manuscript paper spread out between them was full of traces of revisions.
Ji Chen's gaze unconsciously fell on Zheng Wanqing. He looked at the shadows cast by her eyelashes on her cheeks when she frowned in thought, and the curve of her slender wrist when she picked up the pen. He even forgot what to say for a moment.
"Ji Chen?" Zheng Wanqing called out several times to no avail, so she could only gently push his arm. The moment her fingertips touched the fabric of his suit, Ji Chen woke up as if from a dream, and his Adam's apple rolled unnaturally.
"Sorry." He hastily grabbed the pen, and the tip of the pen left a small stain of ink on the manuscript paper. "Perhaps the angle of this social news can be further..." His speech speed was a bit faster than usual, as if he was trying to cover up something.
Zheng Wanqing didn't think much about it, her mind was still immersed in the manuscript, so she followed Ji Chen's thoughts and continued to discuss work with him enthusiastically.
The two ended their discussion only when they heard the sound of clappers selling osmanthus cakes outside the window.
Zheng Wanqing sighed as she looked at the street scene in the twilight. Ji Chen immediately caught the fleeting gloom between her brows and asked in a teasing tone, "Why, are you tired of sharing this with me?"
"You're such a joker." Zheng Wanqing put the proofs into a brown paper bag, her slightly furrowed brows reflected when she sealed it with wax: "It's the divorce notice in today's newspaper." Her thoughts involuntarily drifted back to that day, the thin figure slumped on the side of the road, and she couldn't help feeling sad. The brown paper bag made a slight crisp sound in her hand.
"Lin Hezhi from "Awakening"?" Ji Chen seemed to guess what she was referring to and asked softly. He took off his glasses and wiped them. There was a thin layer of mist on the lenses.
"Yes, not long ago I ran into Mr. Lin scolding his wife on the street, his tone was full of disgust..." Zheng Wanqing frowned slightly, her eyes full of sympathy.
Ji Chen pondered for a moment and said slowly: "I actually met him at the salon of my junior high school. He seemed to get along well with Miss Su from HSBC Bank."
"I feel sorry for his wife, she has a child." Zheng Wanqing shook her head gently, her tone full of helplessness, "How did it become like this? We advocate freedom of marriage, but the first people to be bitten by freedom are those who have the least choice."
“Wanqing, the ones who are wrong are the hypocrites who use freedom as an excuse to live a life of compromise, not freedom itself.” Ji Chen looked at her with understanding and emotion in his eyes, "Just like you..." He swallowed the words back at the tip of his tongue, the title of Madam Young Marshal stuck in his throat like a piece of ice.
As they walked out of the newspaper office side by side, ginkgo leaves were falling. Ji Chen reached out to brush away the dead leaves that fell on her shoulders, and this action was seen by Xie Yun across the street.
In front of the black punk car, Xie Yun's military boots crushed the ginkgo leaves on the ground. He watched his wife showing the familiar crescent-shaped smile to others.
"Yumin?" Zheng Wanqing trotted over, her woolen coat brushing across Xie Yun's military uniform. The scent of jasmine hair oil in her hair slightly eased the depression in his chest. Her cheeks were flushed by the cold wind, as if she had applied a light layer of rouge.
Ji Chen stood there and smiled: "Young Marshal."
Xie Yun nodded in greeting and put his arm around his wife's shoulders with three points more strength than usual: "Today ends early." The white breath he exhaled blurred his expression as he spoke.
On the way back, Zheng Wanqing discovered that Xie Yun did not warm her hands as usual. His knuckles in white gloves tapped on the leather seat, and the rhythm coincided with the newsboy's shout of "Extra! Extra!"
Xie Yun turned his head away to look at the passing street scene outside the window. In the rearview mirror, Ji Chen's figure was still standing at the door of the newspaper office, like a stubborn ginkgo tree. The street scene gradually blurred into flowing blocks of color in the twilight.
The cold wind rushed in from the car window, and she sneezed. Xie Yun rolled up the window. Zheng Wanqing then realized that there were melted snowflakes on the shoulder straps of her husband's military uniform. He had been waiting outside for at least a quarter of an hour.
She grabbed his hand and blurted out, "It's so cold." Her fingertips felt the damp coldness of his gloves.
Xie Yun pulled back abruptly: "Be patient, go back and drink some hot tea to warm yourself up."
"I'm talking about your hands." Zheng Wanqing took off his gloves stubbornly, and placed her palm against his cold knuckles. "Have you been waiting for a long time?" There were thin calluses on his palms from often holding guns, and now they were as cold as a piece of iron.
Xie Yun felt warm in his heart: "Just for a moment." He held her hand and gently stroked her wrist bone with his fingertips.
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