In the late autumn of 1988, golden ginkgo leaves carpeted the grounds of the military district compound in the capital. Su Ruan clutched the red marriage certificate, still carrying the scent of fresh ink, her fingertips trembling. She looked up at the man standing beside her, her heart pounding like a little pigeon flapping in her chest.
The man's name was Lu Chenyuan. At twenty-eight, he was the youngest battalion commander in the military district. He stood 185 centimeters tall, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His crisp olive-green uniform made him look strikingly dashing. Beneath his thick brows, his eyes were as deep as a frozen pool. He had a high nose, tightly pressed lips, and a sharp jawline that looked carved by a knife. His whole bearing gave off the rough, keep-your-distance aura of a tough man, hardened by years of grueling training and exposure to wind and sun along the border.
Su Ruan was the very picture of a pampered little darling. She had grown up in the city, the daughter of university professors, in a comfortable home where she was cherished like a hothouse flower. Her skin was fair and delicate, her eyes curved, her nose small, and her lips naturally rosy. Her voice was soft, with a hint of endearing innocence. She had never known hardship. Even twisting open a bottle cap was too much effort for her. Her greatest pleasures were curling up on the sofa with snacks and reading Qiong Yao novels. Her only real virtues, perhaps, were that she was sensible and knew her manners. She was spoiled but not overbearing, willful but not unreasonable.
Her marriage to Lu Chenyuan had been arranged in an instant by their parents. Su Ruan's father and Lu Chenyuan's father were old comrades who had fought together on the battlefield and shared a deep bond. The Lu family's son was outstanding, a pillar of the military district; the Su family's daughter was sweet and well-mannered. A marriage between the two families could hardly be more suitable.
