Chapter 264 A Man of Iron
He turned around and stared at her quiet face in the dim light, feeling a pang of sadness in his heart, as if a hand was gently kneading his chest.
He once thought that marrying her was the greatest luck of his life, but now, that luck is like a flower petal that has been dried by the wind, fading little by little.
But when he thought about how cold the room was, like an icebox, and how even the air seemed to freeze, he gritted his teeth, his nails digging into his palms, using the pain to suppress the weakness in his heart.
"Wanyin, it's time to get up."
His voice was low and weak, with a slight hoarseness, as if he were someone recovering from a serious illness and even speaking was difficult.
Qiao Wanyin opened her eyes groggily, her eyelids still too heavy to lift, and her head still felt dizzy.
She rubbed her eyes, barely managing to focus her gaze, and saw that he was already fully dressed—his crisp military uniform was neatly worn, his shoulders were straight, and his back was ramrod straight, standing upright like a pine tree.
But his face was bloodless, ashen and bluish, as if he had stayed up for several nights in a row; the dark circles under his eyes were particularly noticeable, as if he had been hit by a heavy object.
Why are you up so early today?
She struggled to support her back and slowly sat up from the bed.
Her belly, more than seven months pregnant, was already bulging high and hanging heavily in front of her, making every movement seem particularly clumsy and slow.
She gritted her teeth, supporting herself on the mattress with one hand and her abdomen with the other, and it took her a lot of effort to sit up.
Fu Li'an didn't turn around to look at her, nor did he reach out to help her up, and he didn't even give her his usual faint smile.
He just stood there quietly, his gaze fixed on the gray sky outside the window, his voice as cold as the frosty eaves in the morning, softly uttering three words: "Can't sleep."
After saying that, he turned and walked towards the door without the slightest hesitation, his boots making a dull sound on the floor.
As usual, Song Yazhi had set out a table full of hot breakfast early on the dining table—golden and crispy cornbreads piled up like a small mountain, steaming millet porridge with wisps of white smoke rising from it, exuding the sweet aroma of grains; and a small dish of neatly sliced pickled cucumbers, tender green in color, glistening with oil, smelling appetizing.
Fu Lian walked over, pulled out a chair and sat down, but did not immediately pick up his chopsticks.
He lowered his eyes, his gaze fixed on the bowl of porridge in front of him, as if it held some unsettling secret.
His mother sat opposite him, her eyes full of expectation and concern, but he didn't even look up, as if he hadn't noticed her eager gaze at all.
He slowly scooped half a bowl of porridge, the porcelain spoon making a crisp "ding" sound as it hit the rim of the bowl.
Then, he picked up his chopsticks and stirred the porridge aimlessly, round and round, but he never put a single bite into his mouth.
The steam from the porridge gradually dissipated, leaving only ripples.
"Ophiopogon japonicus, why aren't you eating pancakes?"
Song Yazhi frowned and couldn't help but say, "Mom added two extra spoonfuls of sugar. You loved this when you were little, and you always fought over it, saying it was even more delicious than dessert."
Fu Lian still didn't look up, his lips moved slightly, and his voice was so soft it was almost inaudible: "I can't eat."
Just then, Qiao Wanyin came out of the bedroom, wearing loose-fitting home clothes, gently supporting her pregnant belly with one hand.
Upon hearing this, she suddenly stopped at the edge of the living room, her gaze involuntarily falling on Fu Lian, scrutinizing him closely.
Her heart skipped a beat.
This kid used to be a notorious glutton. Even when he was exhausted from physical training, with trembling legs and sore muscles all over his body, he could still eat three big bowls of rice while shouting, "Another bowl, please!"
What's wrong with me today?
Not only did he eat very little, but he also looked listless and his eyes were unfocused.
Didn't you sleep well last night?
She walked over slowly and sat down beside him, speaking very softly, as if afraid of disturbing something.
Fu Li'an simply shook his head and remained silent.
He mechanically took a sip of the cooled porridge, his Adam's apple bobbed, and then fell silent, not even offering a superfluous expression.
Qiao Wanyin turned her head slightly and secretly exchanged a glance with Song Yazhi.
Worry appeared in both of their eyes—his emotions had been stable and normal lately, and this was the first time such an unusual situation had occurred.
The air seemed to freeze for a moment, with only the ticking of the clock remaining.
Suddenly, Fu Lian slammed the bowl down on the table with a loud thud, the movement so forceful that the spoon bounced.
He grabbed the military cap draped over the back of the chair, got up, and started to walk out.
"I've gone to the army."
He spoke decisively, but his tone revealed an indescribable weariness.
As he reached the door, he suddenly stopped, his right foot hovering in mid-air, as if he wanted to turn back and say something.
His shoulders twitched slightly, and he raised his hand, but in the end, the words stuck in his throat, and he couldn't say anything.
He simply raised his hand and closed the door gently, as if afraid of waking someone.
Outside the door, the morning breeze swirled up a fallen leaf, sending it twirling and drifting away.
Qiao Wanyin was busy all day at the kindergarten.
Serving breakfast to the children, telling stories, organizing games, and soothing crying children to sleep...
She didn't stop for a moment, sweat soaking the stray hairs on her forehead.
Even so, Fu Lian'an's dejected appearance from that morning kept replaying in her mind—his pale face, empty eyes, and those light yet incredibly heavy words, "I can't eat."
During lunch break, the children lay down obediently, breathing evenly, and the classroom was so quiet that you could hear the low hum of the air conditioner.
She leaned back in her chair, but she couldn't calm her mind.
Finally, she took out her phone and, with trembling fingers, dialed the number for the military.
"Hello, is this Commander Fu? I'd like to see Comrade Fu Li'an."
She kept her voice very low, afraid of waking the child.
A young soldier's voice came from the other end of the phone, respectful but emotionless: "Sister-in-law, you've got the wrong person. Commander Fu took leave this morning. He said he wasn't feeling well and has already gone to the regimental clinic."
Qiao Wanyin's heart clenched suddenly, as if gripped by an icy hand, and instantly rose to her throat.
Who is Fu Li'an?
That's a man of steel!
During his more than ten years in the army, he never complained of being tired, whether it was traversing mountains and valleys, camping in the snow, or running five kilometers while carrying artillery shells.
Forget about sick leave, she'd never even seen a sick leave slip he'd signed.
Everyone in the army said that Commander Fu's body was as tough as steel, and that he could not be blown down by the wind or broken by the rain.
But today...
He actually took leave?
Without thinking any further, she quickly found the principal and hurriedly asked a colleague to cover her shift.
Without even having time to change, I threw on my coat and rushed home.
The moment she pushed open the door, she froze.
The living room was dimly lit, the curtains were not drawn, and only a few rays of pale sunlight leaked in through the gaps in the balcony.
Fu Li'an was sitting on that old wooden chair, his shoulders slumped, his military jacket haphazardly thrown on the back of the chair, the collar unbuttoned, revealing the faded training uniform lining underneath.
His head was slightly lowered, his eyes staring blankly at the ground, his complexion was worse than in the morning, and his lips were even faintly bluish-purple.
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