The voice was all too familiar, yet her mind seemed to short-circuit, unable to place it immediately.
Chuntao's body gave a violent shudder, thinking she was done for, but the man's movements froze at the final step.
Panting heavily, he got off the bed. His rough, large hands pulled together the two flaps of her garment, clumsily and stiffly fastening her buttons and tying her trouser belt. It took him a good half hour to manage three buttons.
"I'm leaving!" His voice was trembling and hoarse, thick with suppressed emotion.
Before Chuntao could react, the sound of heavy footsteps left the melon shed and vanished into the vast darkness.
Listening as the footsteps faded away, Chuntao suddenly flipped over, pressing her face against the worn-out mat, and let out a loud, wailing cry.
She couldn't understand why fate was treating her this way. Why was her life so bitter?
She had been married to Wang Jieshi in an exchange marriage for her brother; Wang Jieshi's eldest sister had married her brother.
Her brother and his wife were getting along fairly well, already having a daughter, and were now pregnant again, said to be with a boy this time.
But she, abandoned by her husband on her wedding night, had been utterly disgraced ever since.
Even though she was quite a beauty, the prettiest young wife in Wang Family Village, she was still pointed at and gossiped about by the villagers. They said her fate was harsh, that she was an "ill-omened" woman who had brought misfortune to her parents and now had driven her husband away.
It turned out that Wang Jieshi and that girl had been in a love match for several years. The Wang family was quite willing, but the girl's parents refused, disliking the Wang family for being too poor.
After the two were forced apart, Wang Jieshi became engaged to Chuntao, and that girl became engaged to a pork butcher from the town.
No one expected that Wang Jieshi would actually elope with that girl on his wedding night.
Now, four years had passed without a single word from him.
With her man gone, Chuntao, a young woman, endured not just physical exhaustion but also mental torment.
She could only numb herself in endless busyness, living in a daze, counting down the days.
Her aunt often said, "A person's fate is decided by heaven, no use fretting over it! No one can change their destined lot, so why think so much?"
Chuntao rose early and worked late every day. No household or field chore was done without her. She also faced her mother-in-law's groundless nitpicking and accusations, and bore the brunt of the villagers' gossip and rumors.
Living a life neither human nor ghost, she couldn't leave, nor could she live well.
She and Wang Jieshi had only met once from engagement to marriage, so there was no question of affection, yet she still fantasized that he might return one day.
Even if he didn't want her, just having the nominal title of husband would allow her to hold her head up again.
Her chest heaved violently with her sobs, the two proud mounds aching faintly, as if pricked by needles.
The man's voice was too familiar. Suddenly, it felt like her mind was split by lightning. She remembered. Could it really be him?
Zhou Zhijun? How was that possible? She couldn't believe it. But the voice was unmistakably his.
Zhou Zhijun's parents had borne five sons and two daughters, but in the end, only raised three sons and two daughters.
He was the second among the brothers. The eldest sister was exchanged for a wife for the eldest brother, the younger sister for a wife for the youngest brother, leaving no one to exchange for him.
Still, Zhou Zhijun wasn't bad-looking—tall, with a square face, bronze skin, and having served a few years in the army, he was the captain of the village militia.
Long-term physical labor had built him a sturdy, muscular physique. In those days, anyone who saw him said he was handsome.
Plus, he had masonry skills, working as a skilled laborer on construction teams, earning a decent wage.
Many girls from surrounding villages fancied him, but he wasn't interested, saying he didn't feel a connection.
His mother had urged him countless times, "What connection? We country folk take a wife as long as she can work and bear children, that's good enough."
His father would tap his tobacco pipe and say, "How old are you already, still being so picky? Kids the same age in our village already have several!"
And so, his marriage was delayed again and again, dragging on until he was in his thirties.
Zhou Zhijun appeared cold and aloof on the surface, not easy to approach, but in truth, he was an upright, kind-hearted, and warm person.
He lived next door to Chuntao's family, both a neighbor and a benefactor to the Wang family.
After Wang Laohan fell ill, it was he who had consistently helped the Wang family, for a full four years.
Four years isn't terribly long, but it isn't short either—enough time for his presence to seep into the daily fabric of the Wang family's life.
Chuntao respected him greatly, treating him like family. Every time they met, she would timidly call out, "Uncle Zhijun!"
He would only reply with a grunt, offering no further words.
When she left the house earlier, she saw Zhou Zhijun squatting behind the house, the glow of his hand-rolled tobacco brightening and dimming.
She didn't dare speak to him, just slipped past him silently.
She never dared to dream that such a shameful thing would happen tonight.
How would she ever face him again? Just the thought made her want to sink through the floor.
Still shaken, Chuntao quickly fumbled for the flashlight beside her and turned it on. Pulling open her collar, she saw several bluish-purple marks on her fair skin.
A once pure and chaste young wife had been defiled by him just like that.
Chuntao instinctively reached inside her clothes, gently touching the bruises. Her nose stung, and tears began to flow uncontrollably again.
She couldn't understand why Zhou Zhijun would do such a thing to her. He had become a completely different person.
For these four years, living closely with the Wang family day in and day out, he had never laid a finger on Liu Cuilan.
The villagers gossiped behind his back, saying he lacked a man's essential capability. Even Liu Cuilan thought so.
But they were all wrong. The reason Zhou Zhijun helped the Wang family for four years wasn't because of Liu Cuilan, but because of Chuntao.
He wasn't a man desperate enough to take whatever he could get. If he couldn't meet someone he truly liked, he'd rather stay a bachelor his whole life.
Zhou Zhijun never imagined he'd be so lucky in this lifetime—to actually meet the woman who would tie his heart in knots and make it ache with longing.
On the day Wang Jieshi married, he had only needed one glance at Chuntao for his long-frozen heart to melt.
This delicate, lovely bride was the woman of his dreams, the one he had been waiting for.
But she was another man's new wife. He could only watch, silently hoping for her happiness.
Who could have guessed that very night, Wang Jieshi would elope with another woman without even entering the bridal chamber?
He cursed Wang Jieshi as a scoundrel for abandoning such a fine wife, yet deep down, there was a faint, shameful flicker of joy he didn't dare acknowledge.
He hoped Wang Jieshi would never return. He thought to himself, he would always find a chance to get closer to her.
Chuntao had waited for Wang Jieshi for four years, and still he hadn't returned. A young woman had kept vigil in an empty room for four long years.
He saw it all, and it pained his heart. Countless times he wanted to reach out to her, but out of consideration for Wang Laohan and his wife, he never acted.
Now Wang Laohan was dead, and Liu Cuilan had taken up with another man. He could move closer to her.
But Chuntao was still the Wang family's daughter-in-law, and she was a shy, timid person. She definitely wouldn't agree to leave the Wang family for him.
Lying in bed, his mind was filled with her adorable, pitiful little face. Tossing and turning, unable to sleep, he took his tobacco and went to the back of the house.
Just as he was consumed by frustration, he suddenly saw a figure approaching. It was the woman he had been dreaming of day and night.
The July night was sweltering and stifling, and the fire inside him burned ever hotter, as if threatening to reduce his entire being to ashes.
As if possessed, he followed her to the melon field and hid nearby, waiting for the right moment.
When he estimated she had fallen asleep, he crept stealthily into the melon shed.
Listening to her even breathing and inhaling her sweet, distinctive scent, Zhou Zhijun could no longer restrain himself. Quietly, he loosened her clothes... and pressed himself down...
