The Stunningly Beautiful and Delicate Darling in the 1980s Military Compound - Chapter 58

In the sweltering heat of summer, when sweat pours down like rain, a piece of ice-cold watermelon doesn’t just quench thirst—it suppresses the fiery irritation of the soul.

Usually, during the afternoon break at the Steel Plant, the workers would huddle together, drinking plain tap water from their cups, their energy seemingly evaporated by the sun. Today, however, the workshop director led them to the canteen with a mysterious, satisfied smile.

When they saw the piles of watermelons at the door, the atmosphere ignited. “Do we actually get watermelon today?”

“Indeed,” the director beamed. “The factory understands how hot it is for everyone. We’ve procured a batch specifically as a benefit. Don’t worry, we’ve calculated the portions; there’s enough for all the front-line workers.”

Director Zhou Chun walked into the canteen shortly after to find a scene of joyous chaos. Workers were laughing, chatting, and devouring the fruit. Seeing a leader, several workers teased, “Director Zhou, can we have this every day? Or at least two or three times a week?”

“As long as you like it, the factory will do its best to meet your needs,” Zhou Chun promised. He was genuinely surprised by the reception; he realized then that the “favor” he did for the Commander’s wife was actually a massive win for his own department’s reputation.

Song Mingyue had always been a woman with high standards. Before she made her own money, she never deprived herself of what she wanted to eat or buy. But now that she had earned it herself, she felt a strange sense of reluctance.

The money hadn’t come easy. They weren’t physically strong people, and they had pushed themselves to their limits for those melons. Money earned through sweat becomes precious.

However, she knew that rewards were necessary to maintain morale. After getting paid, they returned to the city’s department store. Everyone bought one new outfit; for Pei Xiaoyu, whose clothes were particularly tattered, Mingyue insisted she get two.

As they shopped, Mingyue studied the styles. They were mostly simple, mass-produced designs. The store relied on its reputation and high foot traffic to move inventory. Mingyue knew that if she wanted to enter the clothing business, she couldn’t follow this “safe” model. She wanted something striking—designs that would make a girl stop in her tracks.

“What do you think of these clothes?” Mingyue asked her friends.

“They’re nice,” Zhao Xing analyzed. “Most girls in the Art Troupe buy from here. But the downside is that everyone ends up wearing the same thing. It’s quite awkward to show up to work and see someone else in your exact outfit.”

Clashing outfits. Mingyue noted that down. That was a gap in the market she could exploit.

Despite the excitement, the total bill came to nearly forty yuan for five outfits. Everyone’s heart bled a little as the money was handed over.

Pei Xiaoyu’s face went pale. Forty yuan was a sum her family would take months to earn. She held the two new outfits with trembling hands. “Sister Mingyue… the clothes are too expensive. Can I… can I return mine for the cash?”

Mingyue walked over and spoke softly. “Xiaoyu, these clothes are the harvest of your hard work. I know you need money, but rewarding yourself occasionally gives you the motivation to earn more later. Don’t worry, you haven’t even received your commission yet. Life is going to get better. Keep them.”

Xiaoyu was moved to tears. No one had ever told her she deserved to be good to herself. She had carried the weight of her entire family on her young shoulders for so long that she had forgotten she was allowed to be a child. She sobbed into Zhang Jingjing’s arms, who patted her back like a mother.

“Is she okay?” Jingjing whispered to Mingyue.

“She’s just moved,” Mingyue replied.

That evening, when Chen Che returned home, he didn’t find the usual dark house or simple leftovers. Instead, the table was set with braised pork, steamed duck, and a freshly stir-fried plate of greens.

Mingyue walked out of the kitchen, her floral shirt damp with sweat from the heat of the stove. She quickly turned on the old electric fan and lifted the hem of her shirt slightly to let the cool air reach her skin.

Chen Che froze. From his angle, he could see a flash of her fair, delicate skin. Even though they were already intimate, his ears turned bright red. His mind, betrayed by his stoic nature, raced.

He cleared his throat to regain his composure. “What’s the occasion? Why did you cook?”

“I wanted to,” Mingyue said, pulling him to the table. “I even asked Jingjing for instructions. Come on, try it!”

She watched with bated breath as he took a bite of the braised pork. He immediately took another, seemingly enjoying it. Mingyue took a bite herself and immediately spat it out. “It’s so salty! I must have put too much salt. Don’t eat it!”

Chen Che remained calm, his expression unchanged. “It’s not too salty. I prefer heavy flavors. This is just right.”

Mingyue stared at him. She knew perfectly well he didn’t “prefer heavy flavors.” But seeing him eat it anyway made her heart flutter with a dozen “pink bubbles” of affection.

“Actually,” she confessed, her eyes shining with joy, “I made my first bit of money today. Guess how much?”

Chen Che, who was never sensitive to money, thought for a moment. “Twenty yuan?” Twenty was a full month’s salary for a regular worker; he thought he was guessing high.