Vicki's arm tightened around my waist.
"What... are you doing?"
I suddenly tensed.
His voice was low and ambiguous: "If someone kills me in the middle of the night, you can hitch a ride home."
11.
Victor had been slow to come home because he didn't trust his brother-in-law.
Now that he was home, he was worried about being killed in his sleep—apparently, he still hadn't fully trusted his brother-in-law.
With him beside me, I slept more soundly.
I yawned again, approving: "You really think of everything..."
But my voice grew softer and softer until I fell completely asleep.
I slept soundly through the entire night. At first light, the sound of running water came from the bathroom.
"Grace said yesterday that the hot water pipe is clogged. Only cold water."
I curled deeper into the blanket and rolled over, offering this helpful reminder toward the bathroom.
"That's fine."
He ducked into the bathroom.
And I drifted back into dreams.
In my dream, I wore a white veil, saying vows with Victor beneath the dome of a church.
I woke up smiling.
When I opened my eyes, Victor had just finished changing, emerging from the bathroom with a light mist of water still on him.
He wore a dark military uniform.
The collar now bore three stars, just like in my dream.
He pulled me up from the blankets.
"What dream made you laugh like that?"
I smiled and blinked: "I dreamed I was getting married."
I was happy, but his expression faltered.
He turned away to buckle on his gun belt, striding out of the bedroom, leaving one line at the door: "Hurry up and get dressed. We're going to that alley you mentioned yesterday."
Yesterday, he clearly hadn't believed I could use a piece of yarn to take myself back.
I'd already assumed he'd go to his meeting and I'd find my own way home.
Now he wanted to come along—I couldn't ask for more.
I answered and quickly got up, changing back into yesterday's qipao.
I opened the door and limped over to Victor's side.
Seeing the qipao he didn't like, he pressed his lips together but couldn't suppress his objection.
He took off his cloak—a heavy woolen fabric carrying his clean tobacco scent—and draped it over me, engulfing my frame.
He said quietly: "This era is chaotic. It can't compare to yours a hundred years from now..."
While speaking, he fastened every closure at the chest.
The oversized cloak compressed my proportions, turning me from a reasonably tall figure into a squat little dumpling.
I protested: "Grace said this style is fashionable now..."
He scooped me up, cutting off my explanation, and declared with absolute certainty: "Others are others. You are you."
I sighed in defeat. In his era, I couldn't win against him.
After securing my arms around his neck, I caught sight of his slightly reddened earlobes.
I rolled my eyes—and secretly smiled.
As we were about to leave, the butler called out: "Breakfast is ready. You should eat before you go."
I craned my neck and saw sandwiches, milk, and sausage in the serving room. I patted Victor's shoulder to stop him.
He didn't hesitate for a moment, striding forward: "No, we're going out for wontons."
Wontons!
The wontons I'd only managed one bite of yesterday.
My appetite stirred.
Oliver was up now, dressed in casual wear. He came downstairs quickly, calling out from the second floor: "Take more men with you. Don't be late for the meeting."
I assumed Victor still hadn't lifted his suspicions about Oliver.
But surprisingly, on this point, Victor didn't push back.
I had no idea what they'd discussed late into the night.
Victor carried me into the military jeep.
I sat in the back with Victor. In the front were the two bodyguards who'd been with Oliver yesterday.
One was Jay, the other Dan.
Throughout the ride, Victor's hand gripped mine tightly. He kept his lips pressed together, wordless.
We arrived at the wonton stand I'd described, but we couldn't find the alley anywhere.
The old wonton vendor said he'd always had a wall behind him—there was no alley here.
I stared at the solid brick wall, dumbfounded.
Victor, however, seemed to have expected this.
He calmly ordered two bowls of wontons, sat down, and carefully wiped my spoon with a handkerchief.
"Don't be sad. Didn't you come out just to eat wontons? Eat first, then figure it out. Cross that bridge when you come to it."
He threw my own words from yesterday back at me.
I had no choice but to sit down beside him.
The wontons were steaming, just like yesterday.
I stirred the wonton broth, feeling less than joyful.
Was my only way home really to make Victor take a bullet for me?
Three familiar-looking men sat down at another table by the wonton stand, calling out: "Old man, three bowls of wontons."
One of them turned and spat, the gob landing right next to my foot.
Looking up, they saw Victor and me—and saw the bodyguards already drawing their weapons.
Their legs gave way, and all three dropped to their knees.
"Ma'am!"
"Have mercy, ma'am!"
I choked, realizing these were the same soldiers who'd tried to drag me off yesterday.
Victor's brow rose. He looked at my expression, remembered what I'd told him about my encounter, and probably guessed.
"It was our eyes that were blind yesterday! We offended the lady! Please have mercy!"
The one shouting loudest was knocked out cold by Jay's gun stock to the jaw.
Victor set down his chopsticks, stood up, and walked over.
I hurried after him, grabbing his hand: "Let it go, let it go..."
But when he saw my still-limping ankle, the killing intent in his eyes only intensified.
12.
I knew I shouldn't try to stop him. These men had dared to snatch a woman off the street—such brazenness wasn't a momentary lapse. Left alive, they'd only harm others.
Still, instinctively, I begged him not to treat human life so lightly:
"At least arrest them and beat them, teach them a lesson, make them turn over a new leaf..."
But the disdain in his eyes told me it was futile. He disdained life—didn't even consider his own.
"Scum like this isn't worth wasting energy on."
He sighed helplessly, pulling my hand to his face: "If you're scared, cover your eyes. Wait for me."
The two conscious soldiers, seeing me plead for them, chanted: "Ma'am is a living bodhisattva! Ma'am will live a hundred years!"
Cursing their own blindness yesterday, they begged to be spared.
Victor clearly wouldn't soften.
Even if not for me, he couldn't tolerate such men swaggering through the streets in military uniforms.
I peeked through my fingers. Once again, I saw an unfamiliar Victor—ruthless and decisive.
Without a single word, he raised his leg and stomped down, crushing the bent knee of one of them.
Bones cracked. The man screamed like a slaughtered pig, writhing on the ground clutching his shattered joint.
Pure fury, nothing more.
The other tried to flee, but a bodyguard's foot pinned him flat to the ground.
Victor's military boot pressed down on the hand of the remaining one, the only one still uninjured.
"Where did you get the nerve to wear military uniforms? Who gave you that right?"
He crouched, knee propped on elbow, tapping the gun against the man's face: "Even an old-style uniform is an insult to me."
The man endured the pain, looking up at Victor's fierce expression, too terrified even to beg for mercy.
The gun barrel pressed against his forehead ignited a powerful survival instinct. He rapid-fired several names and confessed a few more details.
Victor stood, his expression unreadable, only the certain knowledge that he'd controlled everything.
He signaled the bodyguards, then turned and walked back to me.
Weightlessness—I was lifted again.
He carried me into the car, shut the door.
As expected, three gunshots rang out from outside.
No need to look to know: no one was left alive.
"They were wearing old military uniforms, extorting the people. But ordinary citizens don't know the difference—they just think all soldiers are bandits, same as warlords everywhere..."
He explained.
Generals across the country behaved like bandits. Victor had struggled to be different, but it was hard at every turn. His anger, his killing, was justified.
His eyes couldn't tolerate sand. Once he knew, he wouldn't let such men roam the streets. He would eliminate anyone who stood in his way. He demanded absolute authority, an iron-fisted army.
Oliver's approach, by contrast, was to go after the source and let lesser branches go. He was more patient than Victor, tolerating some darkness to focus on critical matters, systematically dismantling the powers behind the scenes.
One was a soldier, the other a politician.
I understood, as someone from a hundred years in the future, I had no right to moralize. No right to judge who was superior.
I could only be an observer, watching them rise with the tide, watching them fall with the times.
I understood the reasoning, but still couldn't stop my hands from shaking.
"Tolerating one or two today means more will push their luck tomorrow. There are endless loopholes to exploit and bottomless desires to fill."
Victor's hand never let go of mine. Besides that, he couldn't offer me any better comfort.
Seeing my prolonged silence, he sighed: "After I finish today's business, I'll get you home as soon as possible..."