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Major Ferrante's "care" quickly translated into real orders.

An order for military uniforms, overcoats, and even tents far exceeding previous orders came flooding into the "SU" garment factory.

The resulting advance payments also greatly alleviated the financial pressure of wartime raw material procurement.

The garment factory was like a wound-up machine, instantly going into full-speed operation.

Inside the factory, fluorescent lights stayed on all night, replacing the previous regular work schedule.

The dense "clatter" of sewing machines, like a never-ending downpour, echoed from dawn till dusk, even drifting out of the factory and mingling with the port's ship horns, becoming a new background sound for this neighborhood.

The air was filled with the smell of new fabric, the slightly acidic odor of detergent, and the smell of workers' sweat and hard work.

The foreman, carrying a list, moved between the workstations, loudly urging and coordinating in Italian with a Sicilian accent.

The female workers buried themselves in the machines, their fingers flying as they quickly sewed together the cut dark green fabric.

The male workers were responsible for carrying heavy rolls of cloth and bundles of finished products, as well as performing some of the more physically demanding finishing processes.

Suning's presence is also increasingly seen in the factory buildings.

He changed out of his usual suit for receiving guests and put on a simple work shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He personally supervised the quality of key processes, and occasionally stopped to pick up a semi-finished product and carefully inspect the stitches and details.

"Anna, the loose threads here need to be fixed. Military supplies need to be more secure."

“Paul, emphasize the sewing standards for these buttons to everyone again: they absolutely cannot fall off.”

"Thank you all for your hard work! This month's bonus will be paid out along with this batch of orders!"

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a convincing calmness.

He not only pays attention to quality but also cares about the workers. Occasionally, he will even pay out of his own pocket to buy some extra food and drinks to reward the workers who work overtime.

This made him highly respected among the workers, and even though the work was heavy, he rarely complained.

Although the garment factory was busy, it was orderly and highly efficient.

Amidst this bustling activity, the town's gossip seemed to have temporarily faded away from the factory buildings.

The workers were focused on their tasks, talking more about orders, working hours, and the bonuses that were about to be received, than about the beautiful but lonely Mrs. Scotia.

Meanwhile, Malena's life continued to unfold according to its established trajectory.

She still goes out at the same time every day, heading to the post office and the market.

However, when she occasionally passes by the neighborhood where the "SU" garment factory and clothing stores are located, she is involuntarily drawn to the vibrant roar of the machines emanating from them.

She would subconsciously slow her pace, her gaze sweeping over the seemingly unremarkable factory that appeared to contain immense power.

Sometimes, she would happen to run into Su Ning as he came out of the factory and was talking to the foreman or deliveryman.

Unlike the other men in town, Su Ning never showed that unsettling, greedy look in his eyes when he saw her, as if he wanted to devour her alive.

His gaze was always calm and polite, carrying a pure appreciation for beautiful things, like admiring a fine work of art or a beautiful landscape.

He would stop talking and, at an appropriate distance, nod slightly in Marlena's direction.

The gesture was small, yet full of gentlemanly respect.

There was no attempt to strike up a conversation, no extra words exchanged, just a simple, silent greeting.

Then he continued to immerse himself in his work with those around him, as if her appearance was just an insignificant interlude.

At first, Malena was somewhat surprised by this, and even more wary, wondering if it was a more sophisticated method.

But once, twice, three times... it was the same every time.

That respectful distance stood in stark contrast to the other men in town.

Gradually, the ice in Malena's heart began to melt away quietly amidst the roar of the machines that symbolized diligence and pragmatism, and in the silent yet respectful nods of greeting.

She no longer acts like she used to, immediately bristling with thorns the moment she meets a man's gaze.

When she encounters Su Ning again, although she still doesn't greet him first, her tense shoulders will relax slightly, and occasionally, after he nods, she will respond with a very slight, almost imperceptible, tiny gesture that hardly qualifies as a nod.

This is a tacit consent, a silent approval.

She began to believe that this Eastern man might really be different from others.

He was busy with his career, his eyes were clear, and his manners were impeccable.

The soft silk fabric he sent her was carefully stored deep inside her wardrobe. Occasionally, when she touched it, her fingertips could still feel the gentle kindness that was different from her surroundings.

Goodwill, like a stream in early spring, accumulates and flows silently beneath the ice.

Malena herself may not have fully realized it, but when she walks down the street, her eyes will unconsciously search for the figure of that Eastern face; when she hears the sound of machines coming from the garment factory, an indescribable, vague longing for that kind of fulfilling life will rise in her heart.

The seeds of change have been quietly sown in this land shrouded in the shadow of war and the darkness of human nature.

……

In the following weeks, Suning did not personally visit Malena again.

He knew that for a sensitive woman like Malena, who was under the watchful eyes of countless people, excessive enthusiasm and frequent contact would only backfire, deepen her wariness, and might even bring her more gossip.

However, he did not stop extending his goodwill.

He adopted a more subtle and respectful approach.

Instead of sending his own shop assistant, he went through an elderly grocer who had a good reputation in town and was known for his honesty and reliability...

Mr. Fabrizio occasionally sent Malena some "little things".

These gifts, in accordance with Suning's principles, were not expensive, but in this war-torn era of increasing scarcity of resources and widespread anxiety, they appeared especially precious and thoughtful.

Sometimes, it's a small jar of precious white sugar.

Under rationing, sweetness has become a luxury on many family tables.

This jar of sugar might allow her to experience a long-lost sweetness while drinking that bitter coffee substitute.

Sometimes, it's a few new towels that are soft and absorbent.

Replacing those worn-out, stiff old towels—this small comfort was a silent act of thoughtfulness for Malena, who valued her personal appearance but also had to be frugal.

On another occasion, it was even a small bottle of a delicately scented moisturizer from the East.

While the Sicilian sun and sea breeze are enchanting, they can also easily dry out the skin.

This moisturizing cream, with its exotic fragrance, not only cares for the skin, but also represents a subtle appreciation for the beauty of life.

Mr. Fabrizio always delivered his goods with a kind smile and in a casual tone, as if he were simply making a routine delivery: "Good morning, Mrs. Scotia. This is a little something extra from Mr. Sue's shop. He asked me to bring it to you, and I hope it will be of some use to you."

He never emphasized the value of the gift, nor did he ask for anything in return or convey any ambiguous messages. He would simply give a brief explanation and then leave politely.

This subtle approach greatly protected Malena's self-esteem, making it difficult for her to refuse.

At first, Malena still tried to decline, but Mr. Fabrizio always insisted gently with words like "It's just the shopkeeper's kindness," "It's not worth much," and "Please don't make things difficult for me."

Gradually, Malena stopped refusing.

She silently accepted the gifts, her heart filled with complex emotions. There was gratitude, because they had indeed improved her meager and monotonous life; there was confusion, not understanding why this Eastern man would go to such lengths for such a "troublesome" woman like her; and there was also an indescribable warmth of being carefully cherished.

In this small town, she received mostly greed, jealousy, rejection, and malicious speculation.

What came from Suning was respectful distance, a pragmatic work invitation, and these thoughtful gestures that were like sending charcoal in snowy weather, without causing her any psychological burden.

She took out the pearl gray silk fabric and stroked it more often; when using the lightly scented moisturizer, she would subconsciously recall the calm and peaceful gaze of that Eastern man; when she wiped her body with a new towel, she would feel a long-lost, cherished warmth.

These seemingly insignificant "little things," like a gentle stream, silently seeped into Malena's frozen heart, melting the ice and warming her loneliness.

Her initial wariness and doubt about Suning gradually transformed into a deep sense of goodwill and trust.

She began to believe that Mr. Su was a truly good man, a respectable figure unlike any other man in town.

This quietly growing affection is like a tender sprout growing tenaciously from a crack in the rock; though weak, it contains the power to break through all the gloom.

It laid a solid and warm foundation for everything that might happen in the future.

……

On this day, after dealing with the backlog of affairs at the garment factory and watching the last batch of military supplies being loaded onto trucks and transported to the port, Su Ning felt a brief sense of exhaustion and emptiness.

Dealing with the military, managing factories, and making clandestine plans... all of this requires considerable effort.

He needed a moment to relax, but he also needed to immerse himself more deeply in and observe the pulse of this small town.

Instead of choosing the clubs frequented by officers and respectable businessmen, he strolled to an old tavern in town called "Harbor Lighthouse."

This place is a melting pot of people: sailors, veterans, small business owners, low-level civil servants, and those whose lives have been changed by the war.

Here, you can hear more unvarnished voices.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, a wave of heat, a mixture of cheap tobacco, old wine stains, sweat, and the smell of the sea, hits you.

Under the dim lights, the place was bustling with noise and the clinking of glasses. The air was thick with a sense of hedonism and the harsh realities of life at the bottom of society.

Suning found a relatively quiet corner against the wall and sat down, ordering a glass of locally produced wine.

His Asian features attracted some curious or scrutinizing glances, but they quickly looked away.

Here, strangers are not too rare.

His gaze slowly swept over the noisy tavern.

The men were mostly talking about the war...

Complaining about rations, boasting or fabricating stories from the front lines, worrying about the future situation, or simply numbing themselves with alcohol.

However, what attracted Suning's attention even more were the figures of the women in the tavern.

They were not female guests who came here to drink and make merry.

Most of them were alone or in twos and threes, wearing clothes that were obviously outdated or even worn out, though they tried to keep them neat. Their faces were covered with deliberately applied makeup, but their eyes, under the cover of the noise, revealed an undisguised anxiety, fatigue, and a hidden signal that they were waiting to be sold.

They are another group of direct victims of this war...

Women whose husbands or fathers have died in battle or gone missing, or, like Malena, whose husbands have gone to the front lines and whose whereabouts have become increasingly scarce, leaving them without any source of income.

The traditional social structure collapsed in the war, leaving them with extremely limited space to survive.

Decent job opportunities are scarce, and meager pensions are a drop in the ocean in the face of soaring prices.

In order to survive and to feed any potential children, many of them had no choice but to embark on this most difficult and humiliating path.

They frequented pubs and docks, places frequented by men, exchanging their bodies and remaining youth for a meager amount of food, cigarettes, or a pitiful amount of lira to survive.

Su Ning saw a plump woman with fine lines around her eyes, forcing a smile as she drank with a sailor with yellow teeth. The sailor's rough hands caressed her waist, and she stiffened slightly, but dared not push him away.

Another girl, who looked younger, sat alone at the bar with only a glass of water in front of her. Her eyes timidly scanned the men around her, like a frightened fawn that had to muster the courage to enter the hunting ground.

A few others huddled together, exchanging information in hushed tones, sharing where they could get black market bread. The man who was slightly more generous had a look in his eyes filled with a bittersweet sense of shared misfortune and uncertainty about the future.

Their conversations and ingratiating laughter, drowned out by the tavern's overall clamor, were like fine needles piercing through the seemingly lively facade, revealing the bloody reality beneath the backdrop of war...

The suffering and struggles of women.

Just then, the tavern door was pushed open again, and a familiar figure walked in.

It's Malena.

She was still wearing her signature black dress, only she looked thinner.

Instead of looking around for "opportunities" like other women, she went straight to the bar and whispered something to the bartender, seemingly wanting to buy something.

Her appearance was like a flash of lightning in the dark night, instantly attracting the attention of almost all the men in the tavern.

Those gazes were a mixture of undisguised desire and greed, as well as a malicious expectation of "let's see how long she can remain aloof."

The women cast more complex glances at her, a mixture of jealousy, rejection, and a hint of pity, as if sharing a sense of shared misfortune.

Malena clearly felt the gazes. She straightened her back, tucked her chin slightly, and tried to maintain her last shred of dignity, but her slightly trembling fingertips betrayed her inner tension and discomfort.

In this place, her beauty is no longer an honor, but a more dangerous burden.

The bartender seemed to recognize her, shook his head, and said with a hint of helplessness, probably indicating that what she wanted was no longer available, or that she couldn't afford it.

Malena's eyes dimmed slightly. Without saying anything more, she turned to leave.

Against the backdrop of the noisy and filthy tavern, that figure appeared exceptionally lonely and vulnerable.

Suning downed the rest of the wine in his glass in one gulp, the spicy liquid sliding down his throat.

He placed a few banknotes on the table without alerting anyone, quietly got up, and left through the side door of the tavern.

He didn't step forward to "help" Malena, as that would only push her into an even more awkward situation and confirm those malicious speculations.

But the scene before him, and the silent, struggling women in the tavern, only strengthened his resolve.

In this era and in this place, to be beautiful yet helpless is itself a kind of original sin.

Malena's situation is far more precarious than it appears on the surface.

His previous "little gifts" might have provided temporary relief, but they couldn't fundamentally change anything.

He needs to act faster and more effectively.

Providing her with a job might not be enough; he needs to build a stronger haven for her, and perhaps for others in dire straits.

The shadow of war continues to spread, and the ugliness of human nature is exposed more brazenly when resources are scarce.

Time may be running out.

In the darkness, he glanced back at the dim light of the "Harbor Lighthouse," which remained bustling inside, as if nothing had happened.

But he knew that some things had changed.

...(End of chapter)