CHAPTER 231: 221 SUDDENLY LOST

Lu Chi looked at her shy expression and said gently, "Have you been going to the dance hall often recently? Is it related to your friend? Yao’er, your status is not ordinary now. It’s better to be cautious when making friends. There are many capable young men in the military district; they are all worthy choices."

"Nothing can be hidden from you, Brother-in-law." Ji Yao’er said sheepishly, "Don’t worry, Brother-in-law, I’m not dating anyone. Zhao Chun is not some idle loafer; he’s still in university. Liking dancing doesn’t necessarily mean he’s bad..."

"Who did you say?" Lu Chi’s hand gripping the teacup suddenly tightened.

"What’s wrong, Brother-in-law?"

"I’m asking for that university student’s name."

Ji Yao’er didn’t understand but answered truthfully, "Zhao Chun."

A faint gleam flashed in Lu Chi’s eyes. "Zhao Chun from the Zhao family?"

"Huh?" Ji Yao’er was dumbfounded. "What Zhao family?" She actually only knew that Zhao Chun was a university student. They hadn’t known each other for long, and during his school vacation, he liked to dance at the hall. He said it inspired his artistic creativity.

"If it’s the Zhao Chun I’m thinking of, then he’s likely the Zhao Chun of the Zhao family." Lu Chi asked lightly, "Have you heard of Governor Zhao?"

"This can’t be..." Ji Yao’er was stunned.

"In this East Sea Province, the Zhao family counts as a massive tree. However, Zhao Chun has a quite good relationship with Jiang Jinghuai—I’ve seen him a few times. He marches to his own drum." That said, the attitude of the Zhao family has always been neutral.

Ji Yao’er had long known that by entering the Lu family, her future marriage partner would carry political or social interests. But she hadn’t expected that someone like Zhao Chun, who she quite liked, would have such a major background. Wouldn’t her brother-in-law now have no objection to her associating with Zhao Chun?!

"What was it you said he wanted to film a TV drama about just now?"

Ji Yao’er thought about it and replied, "Um... it’s a script called ’Desire.’ The author seems to be Li Yibai."

"Li Yibai... What a talent, so in-demand." Lu Chi chuckled softly.

Ji Yao’er couldn’t understand why her brother-in-law laughed suddenly.

The more Lu Chi thought about it, the more incredulous it seemed. Coincidence? It was simply too coincidental. "This time, I can’t help you. Honestly, before you, someone had already approached me and expressly asked for the filming rights for that script." Li Yibai, huh. Lu Chi was somewhat intrigued. It took something—or someone—special to have both Wenxiu and Zhao Chun vying for someone.

"It’s okay, Brother-in-law. Zhao Chun doesn’t absolutely need it." Even though Ji Yao’er was a little disappointed, she could also discern her brother-in-law’s attitude. For him to say this meant the person who had approached him previously must be very important, even more important than herself. She wasn’t blind to these signals.

...

These past few days, the entire military district was busy preparing for the Mid-Autumn Festival gala. Setting up stages, decorating venues, rehearsing programs—everything was orderly, but the atmosphere was distinctly different. After all, the Mid-Autumn Festival is a major holiday.

Tian Sangsang thought back to how her company used to start distributing Mid-Autumn Festival benefits around this time. Fireworks and firecrackers would be going off in every corner, making it lively and festive.

Back then, she would always make a phone call home to send her regards. Now, however, there wasn’t even anyone to call. At that time, even though she couldn’t return home for a family reunion dinner, she could still go out for a meal with her misfit friends.

Previously, she had left Chen Ying her address, but she hadn’t received any letters from Chen Ying yet, so she didn’t know Chen Ying’s new address; Guan Kunling left hurriedly in the middle of the night—it must’ve been something troublesome. If it weren’t something significant, why would she leave like that?

The house didn’t have a television yet, which made things quite dull. Tian Sangsang decided to save up and buy one in the future. However, thinking about the TV series Li Yibai wanted to produce, Tian Sangsang was a bit puzzled. Reality was that TV dramas only started becoming popular around the 1990s. For now, movies were still the mainstream. Popular media from Hong Kong and Taiwan was also finding its way in, attracting a large number of young people, though those were mainly available in video halls or on cassette tapes.

Even the Spring Festival Gala hadn’t started yet at this point.

When TV dramas entered production, the first choices were always the classics. Reflecting on the timeless four great works of later eras, weren’t their adaptations conceived in this very stage? Later on, the visual effects might lack finesse, but those productions respected the original work and faithfully recreated it. The actors’ performances were truly masterful—even now, remakes struggle to surpass those classics.

Tian Sangsang’s favorite was the older version of "Dream of the Red Chamber." Lin Daiyu’s portrayal was truly vivid; every glance, every subtle smile was full of emotion. She perfectly captured the sensitive, slightly prideful, sharp-tongued, and charmingly acerbic essence of Sister Lin.

In an era with limited entertainment options, where Tian Sangsang could neither attend school, dance, nor go on dates to watch movies, she occasionally entered her private space and used her phone to watch dramas.

That evening, You Huixixi and the other military wives organized mooncake-making in the cafeteria. Making mooncakes wasn’t easy, and creating intricate ones required patterned molds. You Huixixi had somehow managed to acquire a simple mold with a "Fortune" character engraved on it.

Tian Sangsang also made six mooncakes in the cafeteria, filled with red bean paste. When she brought them home, the living room was empty. Meng Shuyan was in his room.

Normally, Jiang Jinghuai would be sitting on the couch reading a newspaper at this time. Was he in the study fiddling with something instead? Tian Sangsang placed the plate of mooncakes on the table and pushed open the study door—it was empty.

"Yanyan, did your dad come back yet?"

"Daddy told me to be good and stay by myself. He went to make a phone call," Meng Shuyan said.

A phone call, huh? Tian Sangsang mused. Wait—making a phone call! It’s the Mid-Autumn Festival; everyone makes calls to send greetings back home! Didn’t Jiang Jinghuai mention before that he wanted to visit his family? Could it be related to this?

"Okay, be good, and Mommy will go pick up your dad, alright?" Tian Sangsang handed him a mooncake and patted his head.

Tian Sangsang went downstairs toward the phone room. She had thought she’d encounter a long line, but late at night, the room was almost empty.

Quiet and hushed, as if everything had settled—

"Mom, I know. Grandpa’s health..." Jiang Jinghuai’s low voice came faintly. Tian Sangsang instinctively held her breath.

Her hearing had always been sharp, so she caught most of what he was saying. It mostly sounded like small talk, with no mentions of herself or their son.

As she let out a sigh of relief, a faint sense of disappointment crept in. Listening to what seemed like the end of the conversation, she quickly steadied herself and turned to leave.

"Uncomfortable... so uncomfortable..." she muttered, picking up a few small stones from the ground and tossing them as she walked, murmuring under her breath.

"What’s uncomfortable?"

She was startled and turned around, only to see Jiang Jinghuai strolling leisurely toward her. Within moments, he had reached her side.

With her head lowered, Tian Sangsang said softly, "It’s just... the Mid-Autumn Festival. It makes me miss my family."

"You can consider this place as your home," he said in his deep voice.

"Yes." Tian Sangsang replied quietly.

A settled heart is where the home lies. Yet, sometimes, she still felt like a wandering ghost without roots.

Jiang Jinghuai looked at her, puzzled. Under the dim yellow light, her profile appeared somewhat forlorn. In his impression of her during this period, aside from her occasional fiery temper, she was always smiling and lively, never like she was now.