Spring, 1978. A cotton mill in Jiangnan.
For the sake of a room, Jiang Zhaodi grits her teeth and registers her marriage to Xu Zheng, a soldier she barely knows.
They agree to a contract marriage: three months, then they part ways, with no interference in each other’s lives.
Right after they register, he heads to the front lines. She stays alone in their two-bedroom apartment, carrying the Barefoot Doctor’s Manual she has memorized cover to cover.
She stands her ground against neighborhood gossip and trouble at the factory with her skill in emergency medicine.
Who would have thought the man who distinguished himself at the front would return and move into the room next door?
Though rough and unkempt, he quietly fixes her lights, cooks for her, and shields her from rumors.
When she faints, he carries her through the rain to get medical help.
When a child falls into the water, he rescues them, soaked through, but his eyes stay fixed on her.
Then she finds the old notebook he has hidden, filled with her name.
Jiang Zhaodi: “We agreed on three months. Why haven’t you left?”
Xu Zheng grips her wrist, his voice low and hoarse:
“The marriage may be fake, but my feelings are real. I’m not getting divorced.”
