Hearing this, Huo Tingzhou curled his lips slightly. "My wife bought it. You know her taste—always impeccable..."
"Alright, alright!" Xiao Zhengjun couldn't stand it any longer after listening to him go on and on, with every other sentence mentioning his wife.
"I shouldn’t have asked. Look at you, all smug—like no one else has a wife."
So what if his wife bought him a piece of clothing?
Was it really necessary to wag his tail like a helicopter propeller?
He was even wearing new underwear his wife had made for him—did he brag about that?
"Regiment Commander Huo, Regiment Commander Xiao, happy New Year to you both!"
Just then, a few young soldiers approached, saluting them promptly.
"Same to you. You’ve worked hard today," Huo Tingzhou nodded in acknowledgment.
"Serving the people—no hardship at all!"
"Go ahead with your duties," Xiao Zhengjun waved them off.
"Yes, sir!"
As the group turned to head toward the political department building, Huo Tingzhou suddenly called out to one of them.
"What’s that in your hand?"
"Uh... Spring Festival couplets."
Of course Huo Tingzhou knew they were couplets, but in that brief glimpse, the handwriting had struck him as oddly familiar.
"Did you get these from the political department?"
"No, no," the soldier shook his head.
He wasn’t sure who’d written them, but he’d heard from the propaganda team that this year, the couplets for several regiments in the eastern district had been penned by a wife from the family quarters.
"Got it. Carry on."
Once they were out of earshot, Xiao Zhengjun nudged him curiously. "What did you 'get'?"
Huo Tingzhou clenched a fist, his face brimming with pride. "Those couplets—my wife wrote them."
"Ohhhh, 'your wife wrote them,' huh?"
Xiao Zhengjun deliberately gave his friend a once-over.
"Tell me, did you leave the house today with nothing in your head but 'my wife, my wife, my wife'?"
Huo Tingzhou didn’t answer, but his eyes and expression said it all.
"So what if I did? Not my fault my wife’s this amazing!"
"Damn, you really got lucky with this one," Xiao Zhengjun chuckled and cursed.
Teasing aside, there was one thing he had to admit.
"You marrying someone as good as your wife—that’s your ancestors burning some serious incense."
"Tell me something I don’t know," Huo Tingzhou shot him a sidelong glance.
No one understood just how wonderful his wife was better than him.
Checking the time, he said, "Enough talk. I’m heading out."
"Hey, where to? It’s practically mealtime," Xiao Zhengjun said.
Without missing a beat, Huo Tingzhou lied, "Left something at home."
"Sure, sure. Who do you think you’re fooling? Most people say 'a day apart feels like three years.' But you? Half a day apart and you’re already fidgeting like you’ve got nails under your butt."
In too good a mood to argue, Huo Tingzhou let Xiao Zhengjun have the last word.
Whatever. He was going home either way.
"Later." Huo Tingzhou waved without looking back.
But before he’d taken two steps, Sergeant Shen emerged from a side path, carrying a half-basin of plump, white dumplings.
"Regiment Commander Huo, heading home?"
"Yeah, just grabbing something," Huo Tingzhou nodded.
"Perfect. Take these dumplings back with you—saves me a trip."
Huo Tingzhou was somewhat surprised. "These dumplings are...?"
Sergeant Shen then recounted the events of the morning. "Comrade Jiang is truly an educated person—her calligraphy is excellent, and the couplets she wrote carry auspicious meanings."
"Earlier, the division commander and political commissar even praised her when they inspected the canteen."
With that, Sergeant Shen placed the plate in Huo Tingzhou’s hands.
"These are homemade by me, stuffed with pickled cabbage."
"Take them back for your wife to try. I’ve already mentioned it to her."
Huo Tingzhou initially wanted to decline, but upon hearing that Sergeant Shen had already spoken to his wife, he accepted them with a sheepish grin.
The dumplings were plump and snow-white, clearly made with high-quality flour.
Though the military’s provisions were decent, such premium flour was usually only available during holidays.
So Huo Tingzhou began patting his pockets—first the upper ones, then the lower ones.
Finally, he glanced awkwardly at his good friend.
Married men were always broke, especially those who didn’t stash away private savings.
Seeing his predicament, Xiao Zhengjun sighed deeply.
Why was his luck so terrible? Every time he went out with this guy, his secret savings would inevitably vanish under some pretext!
"Sergeant Shen, take this."
"What’s this? No need!"
Sergeant Shen firmly pushed back the money and coupons Huo Tingzhou tried to hand him.
"If I wanted payment, I wouldn’t have come here specially today."
Without another word, he turned and left.
And so, under the envious, resentful gaze of his good friend, Huo Tingzhou carried the dumplings home openly.
When he arrived, Jiang Si was having lunch.
Surprised to see him, she asked, "Why are you back? Qianbao said you’d be having a group meal at the unit."
With Uncle Zhong and Third Uncle present, Huo Tingzhou couldn’t very well say he’d missed her.
Luckily, he had a ready excuse.
He lifted the dumplings. "I ran into Sergeant Shen earlier. He made some pickled cabbage dumplings."
"In this heat, they won’t keep long—we should boil them right away."
"Definitely, or the wrappers will dry out," Uncle Zhong chimed in, remembering how his young mistress had been craving something sour earlier. He promptly took the dumplings.
Noticing Huo Tingzhou hadn’t eaten much in the morning, Jiang Si asked, "Would you like some noodles? There’s still some in the pot."
The New Year’s Eve feast was the main event at night, so lunch had been a simple noodle dish.
"I’ll just finish yours."
Huo Tingzhou took her half-eaten bowl. "Save room for the dumplings later. Sergeant Shen’s filling is incredible."
The noodles were gone in a few bites.
Soon, the dumplings were ready—plump and golden, like little ingots.
"Careful, they’re hot," Huo Tingzhou warned.
Jiang Si nodded, took a bite, and was instantly amazed.
She hadn’t expected pickled cabbage dumplings to be this delicious.
She devoured ten in one go.
If not for the upcoming feast, she could’ve easily eaten seven or eight more.
Seeing her relish them, Huo Tingzhou later asked Sergeant Shen for his pickled cabbage recipe when returning the enamel pot.
Upon hearing his wife loved it, Sergeant Shen waved grandly.
That afternoon, his wife delivered a generous batch of pickled cabbage to Jiang Si.
Without fussing over formalities, Jiang Si simply slipped a red envelope to their grandson.
The money wasn’t much—just a small token of goodwill.
After seeing off Sergeant Shen’s wife, it was already quite late.
As the sound of firecrackers began to rise sporadically across the residential compound, the three of them—grandfather, grandson, and Uncle Zhong—quickly set to work.
For the New Year’s Eve dinner, Jiang Si had originally planned to keep things simple.
After all, there were only four of them, and with the weather being warm, cooking too much would just go to waste.
But Third Granduncle and Uncle Zhong immediately waved off the idea.
“That won’t do,” they said. “The New Year should look like the New Year.”
“Besides, this is the first year you two lovebirds are celebrating as a married couple.”
“It’s fine to make extra dishes—consider it a wish for abundance year after year.”
