Chapter 36: The Siberian Jealousy and the Delicate Japanese Bride

Eliza was left completely speechless.

She looked at the man before her, that troublemaker from the training camp who had never once played by the rules. His way of thinking was always so realistic, so cold-blooded, and yet, so... correct. He never concerned himself with superficial glory, focusing instead on the core necessity of survival.

"You... you always have a thousand excuses."

Xu Feng’s shameless, self-assured demeanor ignited that familiar, nameless fire within her once again. She hated his knack for seeing through everything. She hated herself even more for being unable to refute him.

In the end, she compromised.

"Fine." She squeezed the word through her teeth. "I respect your choice. You may leave."

Xu Feng smiled, a look that struck Eliza as incredibly grating. He nodded at her and turned toward the door.

When Lin Xue saw him emerge, her eyes lit up, and she hurried to meet him. She grabbed his arm, scanning him from head to toe, and only exhaled in relief when she saw he was unharmed. Xu Feng patted her hand, giving her a reassuring look. The two walked side by side toward the exit of the corridor.

Just as they were about to step out of the grim little building, Eliza’s voice came from behind them.

"Xu Feng!"

Xu Feng stopped and turned around. Eliza strode toward him, her blue eyes swirling with complex emotions he couldn't decipher. There was anger, resentment, relief, and perhaps a flicker of... grievance?

She reached him and stood still. They stared at each other, neither speaking. The air seemed to freeze.

Just as Xu Feng was about to ask if there was anything else, Eliza suddenly moved. Without a word, she raised her fist, her knuckles white from the force of her grip, and landed a solid blow right on Xu Feng’s chin!

*Thud.*

Xu Feng, never expecting her to strike, took the hit squarely. He staggered back, his head ringing and stars dancing before his eyes. A trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth instantly.

Lin Xue let out a sharp cry of alarm and instinctively reached out to steady him.

"That punch," Eliza said, retracting her fist and shaking her reddened hand. She looked at him, her eyes strangely damp. "Was for myself."

Her voice held a faint, imperceptible tremor. "You jerk... do you have any idea how worried I was?"

With that, she stopped looking at him, spun around, wiped her eyes quickly with the back of her hand, and strode back toward her office.

Xu Feng cradled his burning chin, wincing in pain. He watched her retreating figure—which looked more like a flight in defeat—and felt a sudden, wry amusement. *Damn it, that Siberian vinegar-pot really knows how to pack a punch.*

"Are... are you all right?" Lin Xue asked, supporting him. She took out a clean handkerchief and carefully wiped the blood from his mouth, her large eyes filled with heartache and concern.

Xu Feng tried to grin, but the movement tugged at his injury, causing him to hiss in pain. He looked at Lin Xue’s face, etched with worry, then thought of the fierce yet aggrieved "she-devil" who had just left. He realized that, perhaps, this beating wasn't entirely undeserved.

"I'm fine," he mumbled. "Let’s go. Let’s head home."

...

The journey from Shangba Town back to Laohegou Village spanned several dozen miles of mountain road, and they walked slowly. Xu Feng’s chin was swollen, a large, bruised patch making him look somewhat ridiculous.

Lin Xue remained silent the entire way, walking quietly by his side. Every time he winced from speaking or chewing on their rations, her brows would knit together tightly.

When the familiar old locust tree at the entrance of the village appeared on the horizon, the few villagers working in the nearby fields were the first to spot them.

"Look! Isn't that... Xu Feng?"

"He's back? And that woman with him... isn't that his wife?"

"My God! He really is back! Weren't they saying the Soviet army dragged him off as a collaborator?"

In an instant, the entire village of Laohegou was like a pond hit by a stone, ripples spreading in every direction. The news grew wings, flying to every household. Villagers spilled out of their homes, standing by the roadside to watch the two return, whispering and pointing.

Their gazes were more complex than before—shock, suspicion, but mostly a deep-seated wariness and fear. To be dragged away by the Soviet army and return unscathed? That meant this "cripple" named Xu Feng had an unfathomable background.

Xu Feng ignored the probing stares. He led Lin Xue along the main road, his path fixed firmly on his own dilapidated courtyard.

...

As they walked, the villagers' looks of awe, suspicion, and fear felt like countless invisible thorns at their backs. Xu Feng’s chin was swollen and bruised—a "souvenir" from Eliza that made him look disheveled, yet added a touch of ferocity.

He paid no mind to the stares or the gossip. Human hearts were like reeds; they swayed whichever way the wind blew. He didn't expect to set them straight with a few words, nor did he have the time. In this black soil, maintaining one's footing didn't come from reason—it came from fists, and the kind of fear that made people afraid to reach out against you.

The gate was ajar, swinging open with a light push. The sight before them caused a cold, icy flame to ignite in Xu Feng’s calm eyes.

The courtyard was even more derelict than when they had left. The "whole-pig feast" from last night had left behind no warmth, only wreckage. The bonfire was long extinguished, leaving charred logs trampled into pieces. The large iron pots they had borrowed were gone, likely reclaimed by their owners.

The ground was littered with greasy footprints and discarded bones. A few stray dogs were greedily licking oil stains in the corner; upon seeing them enter, the dogs tucked their tails and scurried away with whimpers.

What made Xu Feng’s gaze turn truly chilling was their hut. The door, which had never closed properly, had been kicked in, leaving a gaping hole, its hinges bent.

He didn't need to guess who had done it. Wang Erhu. That piece of trash hadn't just acted as an informant; he had taken advantage of their absence to "shop for free" in their home.

Lin Xue looked at their ruined "home," clutching her hem tightly, a flash of sadness crossing her eyes. But she said nothing. She simply walked to the eaves, picked up the worn broom, and began to sweep away the mess. Her movements were light and focused, as if she were sweeping away the bad luck of the courtyard along with the unease in her own heart.

Watching her back, the fire in Xu Feng’s chest was dampened by her quiet presence. He walked over and took the broom from her hands.

"I’ll do it. You go inside and tidy up," he said, his voice muffled by his swollen chin but steady.

Lin Xue looked up, her clear eyes fixed on his injury with profound tenderness. She shook her head, extended a slender finger, and wrote two words in her palm: *I will.*

Then, as if gathering immense courage—or perhaps simply feeling it was the natural thing to do—she looked into his eyes and whispered, in a voice barely audible, "Husband."