Chapter 20: The Tenderness When You Bow Your Head

The moment she stepped into the classroom, An Jing saw those eyes—bright as stars shining in a midnight sky.

What kind of eyes were they? So dark, so luminous, so deep, and so gentle, yet burning with a fire that could melt a soul. She had imagined this reunion countless times, reminding herself again and again to remain calm and composed. But in the instant their gazes met, her defenses crumbled. The softest, most untouchable part of her heart was struck—pain and sweetness mingled, followed by a lingering ache. Her heart pounded furiously; her delicate head bowed slightly, a blush rising quietly to her cheeks. She was not even sure how she had made her way from the door to the lectern, those few short steps.

“Stand up!” The monitor’s voice rang out. In the small classroom, several cadets stood up in perfect unison. An Jing jolted awake from her reverie. She was here to teach. She would have to face this situation countless times in the future—could she let herself be so distracted every time?

She nodded gently, took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and forced herself to suppress her restless emotions. In a soft voice, she said, “Be seated.”

Only after everyone had sat down did she begin to speak, her clear and gentle voice echoing softly through the classroom.

“Hello, everyone. My name is An Jing—‘An’ for peace, ‘Jing’ for quiet.” She paused briefly. “This semester, I’ll be your literature instructor. You can call me Instructor An, or Dr. An, or even Professor An if you prefer…”

As she introduced herself, the cadets below wore varying expressions.

Could this be true? Was this gentle and beautiful young woman really their instructor? And a doctorate holder? Had she even turned eighteen? Who said female doctorates were old and unattractive?

Damn it, why did I ever enlist?

Only Lei Dong stood up and sat down again mechanically, his eyes never leaving her, tracking her every movement.

Ten days ago, their chance meeting had left a deep impression on him—her unyielding demeanor in the face of crisis had planted a seed in his heart. Today, as he truly looked at her for the first time, he realized how beautiful she was—so much so that even the slightest movement of her hair in the breeze seemed magical, impossible to resist.

Then An Jing shot a secret glance in his direction and, raising her voice a little, added, “Or you may call me Major An.”

“What? Major? Impossible… What? Major!” Lei Dong’s eyes widened in disbelief. This girl, barely eighteen, was already a major? Only now did Lei Dong notice the insignia on her uniform—two bars and two stars, denoting the rank of major.

How could this be? It went against all military regulations for promotion, unless there had been special intervention or extraordinary advancement. But that didn’t make sense—a brilliant literature doctorate, the most gifted young woman at Han Capital University, a goddess in the hearts of countless young men—why would she join the military?

In his shock and confusion, Lei Dong’s attention wavered, his eyes no longer fixed on An Jing.

Seeing that shifting her gaze had worked, An Jing breathed a sigh of relief; otherwise, she doubted the class could proceed smoothly.

“Now, let’s begin by studying love in literature throughout the ages. Our first lesson: ‘The Book of Songs—Qin Wind—Reeds and Rushes’…” Yet her earlier efforts seemed in vain—she had barely begun before Lei Dong’s gaze drifted back, entangling her once more, as if every gesture she made entranced him. Only now, the fire in his eyes was gentler, replaced by tranquility, serenity, and tenderness.

In that gaze, An Jing was surprised to find herself not flustered or incoherent. Instead, she grew calmer and warmer, as if her entire being dissolved into an ethereal world, sinking into the mood of the poem:

“Reeds and rushes flourish, white dew turns to frost. The one I long for stands on the far bank. Wading upstream to seek her, the road is long and perilous; swimming across to follow her, she seems to be in the midst of the water. Reeds and rushes lush, white dew has not dried. The one I long for stands by the water’s edge. Wading upstream to seek her, the path is steep and hard; swimming across to follow her, she seems to be on an islet in the water.”

No ancient poem captured longing as this one did—dreamlike, elusive, as if within reach yet separated by a chasm; hardship and obstacles abounded, yet the pursuit never ceased. The yearning was overwhelming, yet never bluntly stated.

As An Jing recited, a gentle mood filled the classroom. Hearts hardened by years of training and battle softened involuntarily—not in a way that weakened their resolve, but as if some profound emotion was nourishing their souls, offering a new drive to pursue and fight for what they loved.

Even Lei Dong, with his late-stage cultivation, should have been immune, yet he too felt his heart’s imperfections exposed and began to mend.

“Reeds and rushes gather, white dew lingers. The one I long for stands at the water’s brink. Wading upstream to seek her, the way twists and turns; swimming across to follow her, she seems to be on a sandbar.”

An Jing’s recitation and explanation continued, and in a daze, Lei Dong saw a vision: a woman dressed in white, features as delicate as a painting, appearing like a fairy treading over water, drifting among the dusky reeds and blue river—elusive, yet seemingly within reach. The woman turned her head—it was An Jing.

Lei Dong’s entire being was immersed in this exquisite scene, in this wistful atmosphere. Before him was the one he wished to pursue, to touch, to gently embrace. No longer a distant dream, she was right there—if only he reached out, he could feel her. At that moment, Lei Dong thought, if he could spend his life in the presence of such beauty, he would have no regrets.

He gazed at An Jing’s graceful figure, listened to her gentle words, and was utterly entranced… until she ended class with, “That’s all for today, class dismissed!”

Watching her gather her notes and step gracefully down from the lectern toward the door, Lei Dong snapped out of his reverie. Was he just going to let her leave? When would he see her again? No! He couldn’t let this moment slip by.

As An Jing paused almost imperceptibly at the door, and as she cast him a seemingly meaningful glance, Lei Dong could endure no longer. He strode after her and said softly, “Wait!”

An Jing didn’t turn around, but her steps slowed noticeably. Lei Dong’s heart leaped; he caught up, just as he was about to speak, when a discordant exclamation sounded behind him: “Wow—!”

An Jing and Lei Dong turned sharply to see Wu Yun grinning and making faces at them. Clearly, not just Wu Yun but the others had noticed something amiss—after all, what special forces soldier wasn’t sharp as a tack? Especially in the Wrathful Dragon Squad, where only the best of the best were chosen. You couldn’t survive the bizarre training and eccentric courses without a mind full of holes.

It would have been odd if they hadn’t noticed.

Lei Dong glared in annoyance, but An Jing merely smiled gently. “Watch out for your grades this semester,” she said softly.

Her words had barely fallen when the roomful of unruly soldiers paled, their necks shrinking in dread. Wu Yun, in particular, looked flustered, bowing and scraping in apology.

With a soft laugh, An Jing whispered, “Follow me,” and left the classroom, leaving everyone behind.

“How did you end up here?” A hundred meters from the classroom, on a basketball court, Lei Dong and An Jing stood side by side. Words failed them; neither knew where to begin, nor did they wish to break the warmth between them. After a long silence, Lei Dong finally managed to speak.

A gentle, hazy light—its source unknown—settled on An Jing, cloaking her in a soft glow. She lowered her head and, after a moment, said quietly, “I asked Grandpa Liu and my uncle to help. I was specially recruited…”

“Why? You had such a bright future ahead…” He stopped mid-sentence as realization dawned. His voice trembled, and he couldn’t go on; it was as if a mist had suddenly filled his eyes.

An Jing said nothing, only nodded softly, then added, “Actually, I was also admitted to the National Defense University’s graduate program in Information Warfare…”

Lei Dong was stunned. Information Warfare? A literature doctorate taking the National Defense University entrance exam? The news was too shocking. He thought of how difficult it was to get into that program—even with Old Master Tang’s recommendation, it must have taken extraordinary effort to pass.

“I just thought… when you’re out on missions, I want to be able to offer you some real help…” Her words were gentle but resolute. Lei Dong’s heart surged; he could restrain himself no longer. He reached out and gripped her soft, delicate hand. “I… I…” But the words stuck in his throat.

An Jing lowered her head shyly, feeling the warmth from Lei Dong’s large hands, breathing in the masculine scent he exuded, and her heart warmed as well.

A distant cry of “Wow—!” echoed across the field. An Jing bashfully lowered her head, but did not withdraw her hand, letting Lei Dong hold it. A blush crept up from behind her ear, blooming instantly across her cheeks.