“Ugh… my head… hurts…”

Yessie Hartwell pried her eyes open. The whole room was filled with old‑style furniture, everything looking worn and decades out of date. Her mind was foggy, like someone stuffed cotton in her skull. She just sat there, stunned.

Something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

Last night she’d been showering, humming away and having a good time. One slip, and her forehead slammed straight into the sink. She didn’t even feel pain—just a flash of black—and then it was like she drifted into some blindingly white place. Above her, something glowed so bright it hurt.

Half unconscious, she even heard a voice, low and stiff: “Return to your body.”

Yessie’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. Return? Return where?

She was Yessie Hartwell—where was she supposed to return from? Then her mind flew back to the twenty years she’d spent eating well, living well… What, that was all some kind of rental experience?

“Yessie, you awake? How’s your head feeling?”

Two knocks came from the door, followed by a woman’s worried voice.

Yessie looked over. A woman in her forties walked in, dressed in coarse fabric common in this era. Her looks still held traces of past beauty—she must’ve been striking when she was young.

“Mom, I’m fine.” The words tumbled out before Yessie even had time to think.

As soon as she heard herself, she froze. She quickly lowered her head, hoping the woman wouldn’t notice anything off.

Mrs. Hartwell stared at her daughter’s bowed head, and her heart clenched. “Yessie, what’s going on with you? Don’t tell me… you’re scared of Captain Sean Yates? You better not be thinking of doing anything foolish!”

She grabbed Yessie’s arm in a panic, as though afraid her daughter might suddenly go off the rails. Sure, that captain looked a bit stern, but things weren’t that bad… right?

Only then did Yessie remember the mess she’d sifted through in her head last night—still not fully sorted out.

A few days ago, the original girl—also called Yessie Hartwell—had gone to the supply store. Not even two days later, matchmakers and relatives showed up at their door one after another.

The matchmaker announced the bride price straight away: eight‑hundred eighty‑eight yuan, plus all the must‑have items. But at that time, she wasn’t thinking about any of that. All her attention had been glued to the tall, broad‑shouldered man standing there.

He introduced himself as Sean Yates, a soldier serving as a battalion captain. Monthly stipend: 135 yuan. He said that after marrying her, she wouldn’t need to work and could live a comfortable life.

Everything sounded great. But she just… didn’t want to marry him.

She knew full well her brain didn’t exactly run fast. And this man—he gave off a kind of pressure she couldn’t ignore. He was way too forceful, the kind she had no hope of steering. Her instincts had never lied to her before.

She’d always wanted someone with decent conditions, sure—but only if she could keep the upper hand. Her dream life was basically doing nothing and still having money to spend.

But the man in front of her? Yeah, he had money all right. Problem was, one glance and she knew she’d never be able to handle him.

Sean Yates stood a solid one-eighty-eight. Even without the uniform, his build alone felt oppressive. And those eyes—sharp enough to slice through your thoughts. When he stared straight at you, it was like a tiger ready to pounce.

Put him in military uniform, and he was downright terrifying. That day he sat across from her, upright and imposing, and she hadn’t dared lift her head. She just snuck tiny glances upward like a guilty kid.

Yessie Hartwell didn’t actually want to get married. But she used her not-so-bright mind to think it through and realized… well, refusing didn’t make any sense either. In that era, staying unmarried simply wasn’t a thing.

The matchmaker’s voice had been loud enough for three neighborhoods. And with the walls in the family compound being as thin as paper, it took less than half a day for everyone to know.

If she turned down a man with conditions this good, who would ever come propose again?

"Good, your fever’s gone. Get up and eat something. Look at you, useless as ever."

Mrs. Hartwell eyed her daughter zoning out, reached over to feel her forehead, and her tone dripped with annoyance.

Yessie obediently went to wash up and eat breakfast. Their home was a three-bedroom unit, though not very large. Only three of them lived there now—her two older sisters were both married. One room stayed empty, and she had her own.

On the table sat plain rice porridge with an egg and a bit of pickled vegetables. Mrs. Hartwell had only cooked such a decent breakfast because Yessie’s fever had been so high; on a normal day she’d never splurge like this.

"Right, you go buy what you need today. Chief Yates will pick you up tomorrow to register."

Mrs. Hartwell shouted from the kitchen while busying herself inside.

"Tomorrow?"

Yessie nearly choked on her porridge. She put the bowl down and hurried to the kitchen doorway, panic and hesitation all over her face.

Mrs. Hartwell, holding a kettle, squeezed past her dazed daughter.

"Why not tomorrow? You’re already twenty. A man with conditions like his actually wants to marry you—how long do you plan to drag this out? He’s a soldier here on official business; he doesn’t have time to wait for you to dawdle."

By now Mrs. Hartwell understood her youngest well enough. Pretty face, good figure—on the outside she looked perfect.

But deep down, she was stubborn as a block of wood. If she didn’t want to do something, she wouldn’t budge unless pushed. A little petty, always thinking about eating well, dressing well, and nothing else. Someone like her needed a man like Sean Yates to keep her in line.

"Alright, fine."

Yessie Hartwell sounded like she was giving in, but inside she was replaying every word Sean Yates had said earlier.

Mrs. Hartwell looked at her with that classic “knew it” expression. She sighed in her heart. If you didn’t push this girl, she wouldn’t budge, but the moment you forced her to do something, she’d somehow talk herself around.

Same temper as her father.

"The money and ration coupons are here. See if you can find anything you like to wear. The rest, handle it yourself. I don’t have time for you today."

Given the times, nobody really threw big weddings. Maybe in the countryside you could put out a few tables, but in the city it was just one table with the family at a restaurant, then head over to get the certificate—done.

Once Mrs. Hartwell left, Yessie went back to her room. Aside from still feeling a bit weak from the fever she’d just shaken off, everything felt… weirdly normal.

Lying in bed, she could hear her own heartbeat. She was getting married tomorrow. No wonder her stomach felt like someone had tied a knot in it.

She flipped over lazily and her gaze landed on the calendar on the nightstand. A huge scarlet “1975” was marked on it.

Yessie tried to talk herself down. Wherever she lived, life was still life. And the guy she was marrying? Good-looking, strong, decent pay, and from the looks of it, he seemed to really like her.

Only thing was—she had to follow him on base. Thousands of kilometers from home, knowing nobody, starting fresh in some strange place.

But thinking it through, it wasn’t exactly a loss. Sean was bound to be out on missions all the time. That meant she’d be spending most days alone anyway.

Which basically meant: husband gone year-round, brings home the money, doesn’t meddle in the house… and she could continue her glorious salted-fish lifestyle.

Knock knock!

Yessie groaned and rolled all over the bed with her hands over her face. The knocking sounded twice before her brain finally caught up.

"Coming, coming!"

She opened the door, and the first thing her eyes landed on was broad shoulders, narrow waist, and impossibly long legs. Wow. The man’s build was something else.

"What are you staring at?" A low, amused voice drifted down, and Yessie lifted her head—straight into a ridiculously handsome face.

Thick, sharp brows framed deep, focused eyes. His lashes were long and dark; his features clean-cut, his nose straight, and the slight curl at the corner of his lips carried a teasing edge. The whole person had this untamed vibe about him.

He wasn’t in uniform today. Instead, he wore a fitted black casual outfit, the thin fabric outlining the shape of his muscles. Even with his aura dialed down, him standing there at one meter eighty-eight was enough to make anyone forget to blink.

"You… why are you here? My—my mom’s not home."

Yessie Hartwell froze the second she saw the man she was supposed to marry tomorrow. Technically, this was their first real meeting. The words she’d tossed at her mom earlier just jumped right out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Sean Yates chuckled. His eyes landed on her fair, clean little face, those dewy almond‑shaped eyes blinking up at him. He lowered his voice, slow and steady. "I came for you. Thought I’d take you out to pick up a few things."

They were registering tomorrow. Sure, the timing was rushed, but nothing that needed preparing could be skipped. Might as well bring her out himself.

And… with a face like that, taking her along with the troops after marriage didn’t sound so bad.

Yessie kept her head down, the corners of her mouth tugging upward on their own. Even the tips of her ears were turning red.