An 80s female translator was spoiled rotten by a rough and jealous man.

Chapter 314 Hitting a wall
The taxi meter ticked one last time on the suburban highway. The driver slammed on the brakes and pointed to a fork in the road ahead, hidden by green trees: "Miss, you can't go any further than this. This is a military-only road ahead. Outside vehicles aren't allowed in."

Looking up through the windshield, Meng Youyou could see a continuous gray wall in the distance, with faint military green dots standing at the gate. Her heart skipped a beat, and she quickly nodded, "Okay, thank you, Master."

The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror, assuming she was there to visit relatives and friends: "Young lady, after you get out of the car, walk straight along this road for two hundred meters. The gatehouse for the family quarters is on your right. You brought your ID card, right?"

Meng Youyou nodded silently.

"Remember not to turn left. That's the camp gate on the left. The sentries are strict, and outsiders aren't allowed to get close without a permit," the driver kindly advised.

“I understand,” Meng Youyou said, picking up her backpack, paying the fare, and getting out of the taxi. As the taxi turned around, the driver rolled down the window and called out, “Remember not to take pictures indiscriminately; there are many rules around the military base!”

Meng Youyou stood by the roadside, gazing at the asphalt road leading to the camp. She took a deep breath and strode forward. The wind carried a hint of the crisp mountain air, and the faint sounds of training commands drifted from afar, making her inexplicably feel as if she were getting closer and closer to him.

...

The gray walls of the border regiment's barracks extend along the mountainside. On both sides of the gate, sentries stand upright like pine trees, their military green figures standing out in the sunlight.

Meng Youyou stood on the edge of the asphalt road, dozens of meters away from the gate, without moving her feet. She just stood there blankly, neither too close nor too far. She didn't approach the registration window, nor did she turn around and leave. Her eyes lingered on the horizontal bar at the door, looking inside.

In fact, the young soldier at the sentry post had noticed her the moment she appeared. He first glanced at her out of the corner of his eye for a few minutes, and seeing that she remained hesitant, he gestured to his comrade beside him, then jogged over with measured steps, stopped a meter away from her, raised his hand in salute, and said in a polite but soldierly composure, "Comrade, hello. May I ask what you need?"

Meng Youyou opened her lips and moved, but no sound came out. As she watched the sentry run closer, she had already guessed his intentions and the questions he would ask, but she still hadn't figured out the right words to say.

What should she say? Should she say... "Do you have a person named Huo Qingshan here?" Or should she say... "Could you help me check the personnel files from forty years ago? I'm looking for someone."

She'll most likely be seen as some strange and suspicious person, someone of dubious origin and with ulterior motives.

After going through a lot of twists and turns, Meng Youyou finally got the specific address of the current residence. In a moment of impulsiveness, she took a taxi straight to the destination. During the long journey, she didn't calm down for even a second to think about what kind of identity and position she should have to ask them to help her retrieve the files.
What other plausible motivation could there be for this behavior?
Could it be that I have a lover from forty years ago who was a soldier here, and you can help me verify whether this person exists?

I'm afraid... once those words are spoken, the kind-hearted young soldier in front of me will immediately report to his superiors and send her to the psychiatric ward for examination.

Her current impulsive and reckless behavior is unlike that of someone who has crawled on the front lines of life and death; it is neither rational nor wise. It's more like the original Meng Youyou—clumsy and simple-minded.

What was he saying again? — Oh, "Reckless, impulsive, and utterly foolish with a one-dimensional mindset!"

Looking back now, he really did see right through her after only meeting her once, and he wasn't wrong about her at all.

How did Meng Youyou explain to the sentry why she was at the door? She didn't remember very clearly, but she probably made up a flimsy excuse in a panic.

Returning to the hotel empty-handed, Meng Youyou felt extremely dizzy and listless, like a wilted eggplant. As soon as she entered the room, she took off her clothes, buried herself under the covers, and slept soundly for a while.

Normally, people who have a deep sleep like this sleep their fill. Meng Youyou slept until the moon rose in the evening, but was woken up by Liao Zisheng's phone call.

In a daze, my fingers reached for my phone, which was charging on the bedside table. When I answered, my roommate's loud voice came through the receiver: "Hey! Are you alright? I sent you a message, why didn't you reply for so long? You scared me to death!"

Meng Youyou perked up immediately: "It's nothing, I just overslept and slept so soundly that I didn't check my phone."

"Oh, that's good. Anyway, remember to send me a message every night to let me know you're safe! You're a girl traveling so far, especially to a border city. Although we live in a society governed by law and you shouldn't have any problems, you should still be careful and pay attention to your safety..." Liao Zisheng kept nagging, sounding a bit like a mother hen.

Meng Youyou held her phone to her ear while putting on her slippers and getting out of bed to get a drink of water.

The phone call lasted for twenty minutes before ending. Liao Zisheng did most of the talking, reminding Meng Youyou of various precautions for girls traveling alone, which she wrote down one by one.

After finishing the call, Meng Youyou walked to the window, drew back the curtains, and the city's night view came into view. It was naturally not as bustling as Beijing, but it had its own unique charm.

After gazing out the window for a while, Meng Youyou decided to stop locking herself in her room and making do with takeout. Fanzhou was, after all, a somewhat well-known tourist city with countless places to visit and a wide variety of delicious food to try. Meng Youyou immediately grabbed her phone and backpack, planning to go out for a stroll in the vicinity and grab dinner.

Stepping out of the hotel, the evening breeze carried the unique warmth of a small southwestern town. Meng Youyou stood by the main road and looked around. The street on her left was mostly lined with hardware stores and general stores, with few pedestrians. On her right, the aroma of food wafted through the air, and she could faintly hear shopkeepers calling out to customers. Groups of two or three residents were strolling towards that direction.

Meng Youyou decided to follow the crowd to the right. Along the way, she passed fruit stalls. The unique aroma of green mangoes dipped in chili powder, the sweet fragrance of cut jackfruit, and the faint scent of bougainvillea mixed together created a vibrant and tempting aroma in the air, especially enticing to the appetite.

Meng Youyou sniffed, thinking to herself that when she passed by here again on her way back, she would buy some fruit slices to take back to the hotel as dessert.

After walking for about seven or eight minutes, a shop with a sign that read "Grandma's Yunnan Crossing-the-Bridge Rice Noodles" came into view. The shop was not small, and the storefront was decorated with ethnic patterns using bamboo weaving. The shop was full of diners.

Meng Youyou, who always believes that "the restaurants that locals eat at a lot are usually pretty good", usually likes to go to popular restaurants when she is in an unfamiliar place.

Through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, Meng Youyou noticed an empty two-person table in the corner of the store, and she immediately decided – this is the place.

Meng Youyou went into the store and ordered a local specialty, wild mushroom rice noodles.

Before long, the waiter brought over a large, rough earthenware bowl filled with milky white wild mushroom broth, with a few strands of golden chicken oil floating on the surface. As soon as it was placed down, the rich aroma of mushrooms, along with the steam, wafted over, making one's nose tingle with its fragrance.

She picked up a mouthful of rice noodles with her chopsticks and put it in her mouth. The rice noodles were smooth and chewy, coated with a rich mushroom soup. The creamy texture of the porcini mushroom, the crispness of the termite mushroom, and the sweetness of the bamboo fungus melted in her mouth layer by layer. It was so delicious that it made her squint her eyes and she couldn't help but drink a few more mouthfuls of the soup.

After finishing a bowl of rice noodles, Meng Youyou's nose was damp with a light sweat, and the faint aroma of mushrooms lingered in her breath. Satisfied, she paid the bill and walked out of the restaurant. By then, it was completely dark, and the streetlights on both sides of the street were all lit up, illuminating the road with a warm yellow light.

Meng Youyou glanced at the time on her phone. It was still early, so there was no rush to go back to the hotel.

Many residents living nearby come out for a stroll after dinner to digest their food. There are couples holding hands with their children, elderly people chatting side by side, and children chasing and playing. Occasionally, you can hear a few words of laughter in the local dialect. The whole neighborhood is full of warm and lively atmosphere.

The scene before her, so vibrant and down-to-earth, was strangely familiar, reminiscent of a scene deep within her memory. Early April in Fanzhou was pleasant; the gentle spring breeze caressed her face, truly delightful, making her want to stop and savor every bit of its comforting warmth.

Meng Youyou slowed her pace and strolled leisurely along the street, joining the group of people who were digesting their food after dinner. She wandered through the streets and alleys, and followed the crowd unhurriedly to the cultural and leisure square by the lake.

The square was already bustling with activity. Along the lakeside path, several brightly dressed square dance teams swayed to different rhythms of music, their red silk fans and fluorescent bracelets shimmering in the twilight; children chased after bubbles, their laughter startling sparrows perched in the treetops.

The most bustling area was the stalls on the north side, where large pieces of cloth were laid out on the ground, small stools were lined up, and all sorts of small items gleamed brightly under the yellow streetlights—handmade bracelets strung with colorful beads and amber, wooden hairpins adorned with dried flowers and silver ornaments, fabric bags embroidered with batik patterns, brass pendants engraved with ethnic totems, and colorful handmade tie-dyed handkerchiefs. The dazzling array of items attracted passersby to stop and browse.

Occasionally, you can catch a glimpse of stalls displaying old objects and books, their yellowed pages turning gently in the breeze.

Meng Youyou wandered aimlessly among the stalls, the air filled with the fragrance of silk threads, the herbal scent of batik fabrics, and the occasional aroma of handmade sachets.

After strolling around for a while, her legs gradually grew heavy, so Meng Youyou walked along the lakeshore towards a relatively quiet area. Finding a bench, she sat down, leaned back, and relaxed completely. Her gaze began to wander aimlessly, without focus or purpose, drifting with the evening breeze as if in a trance, blurring even the surrounding noise.

Her gaze casually swept over a corner of a stall not far away, not intending to linger, but unexpectedly... Meng Youyou saw a thin hand quickly reach out to the stall, grab a handful of things with the swiftness of a mouse stealing food, and then quickly stuff them into the pocket in front of her.

Meng Youyou's gaze froze instantly, then a layer of melancholy appeared on it.

The whole set of movements was so skilled and smooth that it was over in the blink of an eye. Meng Youyou didn't actually see what he was holding in his hand.
Looking around again, the stall was covered with a dark blue coarse cloth, on which were neatly arranged odds and ends, such as silvery coins, small jade-like objects, and some old-fashioned badges... Each item was arranged in a neat and orderly manner, exuding a sense of refinement.

The stall owner was an old man who was sitting sideways on a small stool with his back to her. He was rummaging through an old iron box behind him. His faded gray-blue Zhongshan suit had a crisp collar and neatly rolled-up cuffs. His movements as he searched for things exuded a calm and composed demeanor.

The man who reached for something was wearing a large black hoodie, the hood pulled down low, obscuring most of his face. He stood in front of the stall, his toes occasionally scraping the ground, exuding an barely suppressed restlessness.

A few seconds later, the old man turned around, holding a light brown burlap bag in his hand. His hair was neatly combed back, and his graying temples were meticulously groomed, giving him a scholarly air.

The old man reached out and picked up the zodiac horse sculpture from the ground, making a move to put it into a burlap sack. But the man in the hoodie standing opposite him suddenly spoke up: "Wait a minute, this thing isn't worth fifty, just twenty yuan. Do you want to sell it?"

Upon hearing this, the old man paused, his hands stilling. His voice, slightly hoarse but full of energy, rang out: "Young man, that's not right. You asked me to find a bag to put it in, and I already found it for you. Why are you haggling over the price again now?"

He enthusiastically showed the other party the wood carving's texture and said, "This is made of old peach wood! When I was young, I worked at the city's cultural palace. This is a work carved by a master woodcarver there. He was a famous master in our area. Look closely at the carving; it's incredibly exquisite."

I was originally planning to sell it for eighty, but seeing how serious you are about it, I've lowered the price to fifty. I can't go any lower. You can't find such a good antique anywhere else at this price.”

"Stop arguing." The man's face was impatient, and his tone became increasingly forceful, displaying an arrogant attitude that he had no intention of closing the deal at all: "Twenty, or I'm leaving." As he spoke, he had already taken half a step back.

Seeing this, the old man didn't intend to stop him any longer. He simply sighed softly and placed the wooden carving back on the coarse cloth. He sold these items not just to make money, but more for sentimental reasons, hoping to find a kindred spirit who would appreciate these precious objects.

The hooded man took two steps forward, but was suddenly stopped by a figure that appeared in front of him, a slender arm blocking his path.

Meng Youyou stared straight at the man's face and reminded him in a clear voice, "Sir, haggling over prices is a small matter, but taking other people's things without permission is not appropriate, is it?"

The hooded man's expression changed drastically upon hearing this, and his eyes under the brim instantly turned fierce. He glared at Meng Youyou menacingly and warned in a low voice, "What nonsense are you spouting? If you dare say another word, believe me, I'll beat you up!"

The old man who was tending the stall was tidying up the burlap sacks when he heard Meng Youyou's words. He paused for half a second, then lowered his head and scanned the items on the coarse cloth. He quickly noticed that something was missing.

A hint of displeasure flickered between his brows, but he didn't immediately become angry. Instead, he slowly straightened up, put his hands behind his back, and calmly looked at the man. His tone was not harsh, but it carried a stern confidence: "Young man, no matter how good the items are, you have to acquire them honestly. Although there aren't many valuable items on my stall, they're not for petty theft."

The commotion attracted the attention of passing tourists and several stall owners nearby, and the man in black instantly became the center of attention.

Seeing this, the man in the hoodie pointed at the stall owner with his right index finger, his expression fierce, then turned and pointed at Meng Youyou, saying defiantly, "You two are teaming up to frame me, aren't you?"

"Are you setting me up?" the man roared angrily, forcefully raising his hand. "Get out of my way, or I'll have to take action!"

Meng Youyou was prepared and immediately took two steps back to create a safe distance from the man. At the same time, she raised her phone and said loudly and calmly, "I have already recorded the video. If you don't hand over the item now, I will have no choice but to call the police. I don't think you want things to escalate to that point, right? There's no need to put yourself in jail for such a small amount of money."

Caught between two people staring intently at him from the front and back, and with countless eyes watching him from all around, the man's face turned pale and then flushed. He clenched and unclenched the hand he had put in his pocket, hesitating for a good two or three seconds before finally reluctantly pulling out what he had hidden—three silver dollars and two jade Pixiu ornaments the size of his thumbs. He threw them heavily onto the coarse cloth, muttered "meddling in other people's business," and turned to leave quickly.

Meng Youyou watched the man's retreating figure and breathed a sigh of relief. The old man bent down to pick up the items, took out a clean, soft cloth from his pocket, carefully wiped off the dust, and put them back in their original places, every movement showing his care.

After tidying up, he looked up at Meng Youyou with a more peaceful and kind gaze: "Little girl, thank you. If it weren't for you, these old things of mine would have been stolen."

"Sir, it's my pleasure. Just be more careful next time so that no one can take advantage of you." Meng Youyou smiled.

The old man pointed to the blue cloth stall in front of him: "The things on my stall are all things I've saved up for my whole life. They're not worth much money, but each one has a story behind it."

"You helped me today, don't be shy, just pick anything, it's a small token of my appreciation." He said, gesturing for her to choose whatever she liked: "No need to be polite, just pick whatever looks good to you."

Meng Youyou gazed at the old objects on the coarse cloth, which were imbued with the texture of time, and hurriedly waved her hand to refuse, saying, "I don't know anything about jade or wood. It would be a waste to give me these."

"What's wrong? None of these things I have are good enough for you?" the old man said, feigning displeasure.

Hearing this, Meng Youyou could only smile helplessly. It was really not good to refuse the old man's kindness again and again. Her gaze then shifted to a low bookshelf standing next to the blue cloth. There were three rows of books, and the shelves were packed full of books. Just by looking at the spines, you could tell that these books were quite old.

She figured that the old books in this cabinet were probably the cheapest items on the stall, so Meng Youyou randomly picked out the thinnest one.

It was a collection of poems. Meng Youyou held it in her hand and waved it in front of the old man. "Grandpa, I like this. Can you give it to me?"

The old man waved his hand happily: "Girl, take it. It's a good thing you like reading!"