Summer, 1976. The heat was sweltering.
An old military jeep kicked up a long trail of dust as it rattled down the bumpy dirt road, speeding toward the western outskirts of the capital.
Inside, Su Xiu wore a faded floral shirt, her two braids hanging over her chest. She clutched a bundle wrapped in homespun cloth with both hands.
She turned her head and watched the scenery rush past the window.
From the low farmhouses to the red-brick buildings that gradually appeared, then the sentries standing guard by the roadside, everything around her reminded her that she was entering a world completely unfamiliar to her.
The man driving was Lu Zhan, her husband of three years.
Husband, perhaps, but in those three years, they had met fewer than five times.
The day after they got their marriage certificate, he left on an urgent mission and vanished without a trace.
Behind her back, the villagers all said Su Xiu was a living widow, married to a husband in name only, who had probably died somewhere far away long ago.
For three years, she endured it.
Half a month ago, he finally came back.
Lu Zhan. Thirty years old, the youngest general, with a string of distinguished military victories. He was known as the “Iceberg God of War.” Cold, stern, and decisive toward outsiders, he had such a commanding presence that one look from him could silence a room.
He felt deeply guilty toward his wife and loved her dearly. A secret mission lasting three years had kept him from contacting his family. After returning, all he wanted was to make it up to his wife by giving her the very best the world had to offer. Fiercely protective of her, he clumsily tries to express his love when they’re alone. He has zero talent for sweet talk, but his actions speak volumes.
Typesetting is confusing.
Your structure is a bit unclear, and it feels a bit repetitive. But it's still ok, just a bit repetitive.