Afternoon sunlight dotted down like scattered gold, carried by the spring breeze to brush across her body, delicately outlining the bright eyes and white teeth of the woman in the truck compartment, radiant like spring flowers.
Feng Man’s voice was crisp and pleasant, like a gentle breeze in late spring, drilling into the man’s ears. But these words inevitably surprised him.
Cheng Lang’s deep eyes darkened a few shades as he stared at the woman on the truck, his expression inscrutable.
If not for the plot backing her up, Feng Man almost thought she had mistaken her fiancé!
Cheng Lang was handsome, but his aura was profoundly heavy, his gaze sharp. When his eyes swept over her, it felt like he was stripping her bare, leaving her nowhere to hide!
Feng Man secretly grumbled in her heart that this man should go be a cop—interrogating criminals would be right up his alley.
Reminding herself constantly that this was the fiancé mentioned in the book, who had some fondness for her and was upright and kind, Feng Man mustered some courage and raised a smile. “You’ve been out for seven or eight years—haven’t forgotten me already, have you? My home is right next to yours. Feng Jianshe is my real dad, Sun Hongying is my real mom. It was our moms who arranged our baby betrothal. You remember, right?”
Their baby betrothal had been set over ten years ago, but after Feng Man’s mother passed away and a new mistress entered the home, no one mentioned it again. Feng Man figured that since the man had been away for years, it was normal if he couldn’t recall it right away.
As she spoke, Feng Man fully pulled back the tarp, revealing her slender, seated figure in the compartment—fragile and slim, like a gust of wind through the mountains could knock her over.
Cheng Lang’s eyes flickered, his thin lips parting. “Baby betrothal?”
Cheng Lang was certain he had never set any baby betrothal. Even back over ten years ago when they were popular, his parents had only seen it as a hassle and ignored it. After they both passed away one after another, no one had arranged a marriage for the then twenty-something Cheng Lang.
He had traveled far and wide for years and encountered plenty of women who wanted to get with him, seen all sorts of tricks. But one pretending to be his baby betrothal partner? This was a first.
With that in mind, Cheng Lang looked at the woman before him, who spoke with such conviction. His gaze turned icy, his thin lips curving into a mocking arc.
His cool voice carried a hint of doubt, but it steadied Feng Man’s heart a bit. “Yeah, the marriage certificate from the betrothal is still around.”
She pulled out the mottled marriage certificate hidden on her body and held it before Cheng Lang, pointing to the spot where only a blurry “Feng” character was barely discernible. “That’s my name.”
Her slender fingertip then pointed to the section completely eroded by time. “That’s your name.”
Cheng Lang’s jawline was sharp. His gaze swept over the marriage certificate, which offered no useful information at all. When he raised his eyes, they were heavy. “If I remember right, there was a wedding feast in Nine Mountains Village yesterday. The bride was…”
“That was me.” Feng Man gripped the edge and jumped down from the compartment, landing steadily. Her two braids swung in the air, tracing pretty arcs before obediently settling on her shoulders. “But my dad and stepmom forced me into it. I didn’t want to. I’ve been thinking of our baby betrothal, so I didn’t want to marry that bully Zhao Gang.”
Cheng Lang hadn’t been back to his hometown in seven or eight years, so his impression of the neighbors at the Feng Family wasn’t deep. He vaguely recalled that their eldest daughter was quiet and timid, always keeping her head down and rarely speaking to anyone.
Upon careful recollection, the image of the Feng Family’s eldest daughter gradually overlapped with the woman before him. She really seemed to be that former neighbor.
But this woman’s acting was incredibly lifelike, every word sounding genuine. If Cheng Lang hadn’t been certain he had no baby betrothal, he might have almost believed it in his daze.
What a joke—pretending to be someone with such a full-of-holes lie.
But what was her aim? Why had she come? Cheng Lang thought of the cargo in his truck and the Mine District he had just contracted. The boss next door was using both overt and covert tactics nonstop. He immediately had a guess.
“What do you want?” Cheng Lang kept his expression neutral.
“Go south together.” Feng Man stood face-to-face with Cheng Lang at close range, tilting her head up slightly. Her gaze swept over the man’s sword-like brows and starry eyes, inwardly sighing that he was indeed a genuine hunk.
Cheng Lang’s eyes deepened. Even with his composure, he was stunned for a moment. He tried to peer into Feng Man’s eyes for her true intent but saw only a pool of spring water.
Cheng Lang’s thin lips parted slightly, about to speak, when he heard someone shouting his name. The voice racing over carried a note of delight.
“Lang-ge! You’re back!”
Feng Man turned toward the sound and saw a tall, skinny man rushing over. He didn’t look too old and was practically pouncing on Cheng Lang, his eyes shining.
Cheng Lang was clearly much calmer, merely giving a light “Mm.”
“Lang-ge, last time you said if you passed by, you’d come eat. My grandma’s home—she’ll make us something good!” The skinny man was a chatterbox, mumbling to himself. His eyes suddenly swiveled to Feng Man beside them and froze. “This is…?”
Feng Man smiled at him. “Comrade, hello. I’m Feng Man.”
“Heh heh, hello.” The skinny man’s face turned red as a monkey’s butt. “I’m Song Guodong. You two…?”
Song Guodong was shocked. He had known Cheng Lang for six years, and this was the first time he had seen a woman by his side—especially while driving for business.
A man and woman alone together could easily stir up rumors. Feng Man thought for a moment and told the truth. “We have a betrothal.”
“What?” Song Guodong’s eyes nearly popped out. He cast a hesitant glance at Cheng Lang for confirmation, but Cheng Lang just turned his head coolly and strode toward the cab.
Cheng Lang: “Didn’t you say we were going to your place for dinner?”
“Oh, oh, right, let’s go.” Seeing Cheng Lang hadn’t denied it, Song Guodong was both shocked and curious. He hurriedly beckoned Feng Man. “Sister-in-law, hop on.”
Feng Man: QAQ
Sister-in-law already?
The Dongfeng Blue Truck started up again. Feng Man finally escaped the stuffy compartment and smoothly climbed into Cheng Lang’s cab. To her left was the driving Cheng Lang; to her right was what seemed to be his little brother, Song Guodong.
The truck cab was spacious enough for three people with no issue. Feng Man sat in the middle, listening to the enthusiastic Song Guodong chatter beside her and quickly learned about the two men’s background.
Song Guodong’s family lived in the Peace Town ahead. Six years ago, Cheng Lang had saved him, and from then on, he had acknowledged this big brother from the bottom of his heart. Though they didn’t meet often, the Song Family always warmly hosted Cheng Lang whenever they did.
After finishing his own story, Song Guodong’s curious gaze darted sideways, trying to whisper to Feng Man. “Sister-in-law, so how did you and Lang-ge meet? You even have a betrothal?”
Feng Man wanted to say they had just met today, five minutes before he arrived.
But that wouldn’t do. She changed her wording. “We had a baby betrothal as kids.”
Whether Cheng Lang wanted to honor the baby betrothal or not, it was a fact.
Song Guodong was astonished. A baby betrothal? Lang-ge was the type to have one?
No, even if he did, he’d actually be willing to marry based on it? Unbelievable!
Peace Town was the largest nearby settlement, with crisscrossing wide lanes, blue-tiled red-brick houses interspersed, and endless vendors setting up stalls and shops—clearly basking in the spring breeze of reform and opening up.
Cheng Lang drove, the other two chattering away in the cab. They soon reached their destination.
The Song Family was on the west side of Peace Town. Two brick-tile houses stood side by side, with a spacious courtyard out front. Song Guodong enthusiastically directed Cheng Lang to park the truck inside the gate. “Park here—it’s safe, stuff won’t get stolen.”
He turned and called out. “Grandma, Lang-ge’s here! And his wife!”
In just a short time, the overly enthusiastic Song Guodong had upgraded his address for Feng Man from Cheng Lang’s baby betrothal partner to sister-in-law to straight-up wife.
Cheng Lang: “…”
Feng Man: “…”
Grandma Song, over sixty but still hale, had a kindly face lit with shrewd eyes. She welcomed the guests inside. “Little Cheng’s here! Looking even sturdier. And you’ve brought a wife! Good, good.”
Cheng Lang chatted idly with the old lady but didn’t respond to the earlier question. Feng Man followed along. She didn’t mind the rest—finally able to stand firmly on solid ground felt like a relief.
Grandma Song and Qian Xiufen, Song Guodong’s mother who had just returned from work, bustled in the kitchen preparing dinner. Seeing Cheng Lang and Song Guodong muttering in the yard, Feng Man went to help in the kitchen.
Aunt Xiu Fen demurred a few times but couldn’t refuse Feng Man, so she let her help pick vegetables. As they talked about Cheng Lang: “A few years after reform and opening up, our Guodong and his dad went into business, buying clothes wholesale from the south to sell. They made decent money. But on the third trip, they ran into truck bandits.”
Feng Man had thought about doing business right after transmigrating—novels and TV always showed transmigrators getting rich everywhere, money flowing like water.
But hearing this now, it was a whole different story.
“Truck bandits? They robbed money and goods?” Feng Man came from a lawful society. Even if there were security incidents in the news, they were rare—at least compared to this era, far more orderly.
“You bet!” Aunt Xiu Fen still shuddered at the memory, even six years later. “Five or six guys with machetes forced their rented truck to stop. They took all the clothes in the truck, all the money on them too. And they still weren’t done—wanted to get vicious.”
Feng Man listened in shock, drawing in a cold breath.
“They were worried about being recognized and decided to finish the job and kill them. Luckily, Little Cheng passed by and saved them.”
The debt of saving their lives was greater than the heavens. Aunt Xiu Fen hadn’t been there, but she could imagine Cheng Lang single-handedly, with just his truck, rescuing her husband and son in such peril.
“Little Feng, your man is a real man—with a good heart.” Aunt Xiu Fen hadn’t expected Cheng Lang to pass by this time with a wife in tow. Surprised, she was also happy for him.
Feng Man thought of the book’s description of her original body’s fiancé. Indeed, upright and kind—she hadn’t picked the wrong guy.
The kitchen fire roared, smoke curling up. In the yard, Song Guodong peeked under the Blue Truck’s tarp and was once again full of admiration for his big brother. “Lang-ge, hauling this cargo will make you a fortune! Awesome!”
Cheng Lang showed little joy on his face. “Talk after we get it there smoothly.”
Song Guodong had experience. Truck bandits and road tyrants were no joke—if you ran into them, even calling the police wouldn’t help in time.
“I’ll ride along with you. You’re just one guy, and with sister-in-law too.” Two men on the truck would at least be more intimidating.
“No sister-in-law.” Cheng Lang lit a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth.
“What?” Song Guodong was baffled. “How no sister-in-law? Isn’t she your baby betrothal?”
The Hongta Mountain cigarette tip glowed and dimmed, mirroring the shifting depth in the man’s eyes. Cheng Lang took a deep drag, slowly exhaling smoke, and sneered. “Just a con artist pretending to be my baby betrothal.”
Song Guodong knew a bit about Cheng Lang’s family situation. Thinking back, it did seem off. He immediately lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Then who is she?”
“Either someone sent to eye my cargo, or an enemy sent to target me.” Cheng Lang hadn’t wasted these years. He had faced plenty of overt and covert schemes.
Normally, even if someone hit on him, they wouldn’t spin such a hole-filled lie. Clearly, this one wasn’t simple.
“Oh!” Song Guodong had an epiphany. “A beauty trap!”
There was that in the Three Kingdoms—he loved those stories!
Cheng Lang: “…”
Ignoring Song Guodong’s wild guess, Cheng Lang said seriously, “Don’t tip our hand yet. I’ve got business these next couple days. Keep an eye on her, see if anything’s off—especially who she contacts, if she makes any moves on this cargo.”
Song Guodong loved Port City cop movies too—rented discs, thrilling stuff. He immediately vowed to complete the mission.
That evening, the group—each with their own thoughts—enjoyed a bountiful dinner. With Song’s father away buying goods in the neighboring city, the square table was still packed.
Feng Man had transmigrated a week ago and starved at the Feng Family, not a bit of meat or even oil. In her previous life in a convenient era, she could cook anything she wanted or order takeout. She had never gone a week without meat. Now, seeing Braised Pork Belly, sweet-and-sour fish, mushroom chicken soup… her appetite surged, finally sating her craving.
That night, Song Guodong took the chance to report his first observation to Cheng Lang. “Lang-ge, sister-in-law doesn’t seem to be after your cargo—or you.”
Cheng Lang lifted his eyelids to look at him.
Song Guodong: “Seems like she’s after our family’s veggies.”
The focus she had on the food during dinner—even looking at Lang-ge didn’t get that kind of gaze.