She felt a bit shy from his compliment, putting down the wine bottle, tilting her head, her fair little finger gently fiddling with the candles pulled from the cake, counting them like a child. Suddenly, as if remembering something, she blinked her long black eyelashes and asked, “Ryan, why did you enlist back then?”
He was silent for a long time before finally speaking in a low voice, “To survive.” He lowered his ice-blue gaze, sweeping over the lavish dinner spread on the table, landing on the silver candlestick adorned with a delicate bouquet of roses, continuing, “For half an imperial mark in military pay each day, 500 grams of black bread, a can of beef, and two cigars a week.”
She gazed at him intently. After she asked the question, she clearly felt that the once joyful atmosphere had suddenly turned heavy. She could only hear his voice growing deeper, “In winter, you could be issued a wool blanket, which was good because the barracks weren’t too cold except when standing guard for the officer all night. The gray-green woolen jacket, wool gloves, and headscarf… and leather boots, with pants tucked into the boots for better warmth, but the steel-bottomed boots would still freeze through.”
She softly said, “That time must have been very difficult.”
He downed the wine in his glass, the white candlelight flickering in his ice-blue pupils, “New recruits always receive some ‘privileges’ when they enlist.”
She slowly rose from her chair, walked to his side, and sat close to him, her soft little hand touching his arm. His fingers were long and strong, his palm warm, but the back of his hand was so cold.
He stopped speaking, smiling as he ruffled her hair, his expression very calm, but she could clearly feel that in the gently swaying wine glass in his right hand, something heavy and bitter was settling. She thought she was empathetic, understanding the world’s suffering, but ultimately she was still a rich young lady, raised with strict parents and kind siblings. He was different; from the moment he became aware, he had no family. When she asked him how he went from being a slave to a general, he didn’t answer her. Rather than involving some military secrets, it was more about the painful past he didn’t want anyone to touch.
Her heart tightened, aching slightly. She gradually understood his position and logic; in fact, it wasn’t hard to understand, requiring no logic, because his situation was becoming increasingly perilous. If he didn’t swiftly eliminate his opponent at the first opportunity, what awaited him would be complete annihilation. He had grown accustomed to this chase and kill, with no other choice. She would never forget that time when she accidentally entered his room and witnessed that shocking scene—he was burning a list of prisoners to be executed. His words were deeply etched in her mind, “True evil is not the glory paved with bones, nor the brilliance forged in blood, but in this chaotic world of demons and beasts, being human yet completely unaware of what to believe in…” She had once scorned him with ruthless words, accusing him of being an accomplice to evil, perhaps the reason he began to descend into darkness was simply for survival.
The moonlight was soft, he drank some wine and fell into a deep sleep, but she couldn’t sleep at all.
Khanyi quietly got out of bed, tiptoeing as she gently opened the second compartment of the drawer. This drawer was used to store items related to her hometown, and inside were stacked a silk qipao that had become tattered, a small packet of jasmine fragrance, two manuscripts exuding a faint ink scent, and a small red velvet box. She glanced at the bed and saw that he was sleeping soundly before carefully opening the small box. Inside was a pair of pearl earrings, shimmering softly in the moonlight.
At this moment, Khanyi felt an even stronger sense of regret. She shouldn’t have accepted this gift yesterday. Accepting a gentleman’s gift so carelessly implied a willingness to accept his affections.
Although she could sense the elegance, politeness, and kindness of the handsome captain of the national defense army, whom she had only met once on the train, he was still a stranger. If she were in her hometown, adhering to the customs of propriety regarding interactions between men and women, this would have been utterly inappropriate. Yet, she merely hoped for someone to converse with, apart from the proper servants in this house.
Yesterday afternoon, in a cake shop in the city, her maid Evelyn accompanied her to choose a large cake base and buy some cream for decoration and frosting. The shop was located in a rather inconspicuous part of the city. The car was parked outside, with the driver waiting inside. Evelyn went next door to purchase some ingredients from the chef’s list. They had an entire afternoon to complete these tasks. After Khanyi selected what she wanted, she ordered a cup of tea and a small piece of cake at the tea room in the cake shop, enjoying them leisurely.
What Khanyi never expected was to run into him in that cake shop.
When he pushed the door open, her eyes lit up. He was still wearing that deep blue trench coat, a white shirt without a tie, and his hair was casually tousled, giving him a somewhat relaxed and lazy appearance. She knew he was an officer in the national defense army, and his attire was always distinctively fashionable and elegant, devoid of any rigidity or harshness typical of soldiers.
She spoke up, calling his name, “Marcus.”
