Xiawa Village, East of the Mountain.
A heavy snow had wrapped the hills, rooftops, and field ridges tightly, a vast expanse of white stretching endlessly.
Aunt Zhou stood at the door, her brows knitted into a knot, unable to hold back a sigh.
There was no way to go home before the New Year, and even after it, things looked uncertain.
Chuntao was heavily pregnant, and the mountain paths were rough and uneven. Crossing the ridges and trekking such a long distance would be far too much for her to handle.
If it really came down to it, they’d have to wait until after the baby was born to go back. By then, they could hold the wedding banquet and the one-month celebration for the child together.
Aunt Zhou stood at the entrance of the main room, mulling this over. In the hall, right by the door, Zhou Zhijun carefully helped Chuntao shuffle along slowly step by step.
His gaze was glued to Chuntao’s growing belly, worry weighing on him like a stone, as heavy as a thousand pounds.
This remote mountain hollow was far from the commune’s health clinic. Even buying salt on ordinary days required half a day’s walk over the hills, let alone a major event like childbirth.
He was truly afraid something might go wrong when Chuntao gave birth. Her slender, delicate frame couldn’t handle much strain, and to make matters worse, she was carrying twins.
The room itself was cramped, leaving little space for them to turn around. Their pacing was little more than moving in place to stretch their muscles and bones.
After walking for only a short while, Zhou Zhijun noticed fine sweat beading on her forehead, her brows slightly furrowed. He quickly helped her sit on a tall wooden stool propped against the wall and, as an afterthought, placed an old padded jacket on it.
“Tao, how are you feeling? Tired? Is your back still sore?”
His eyes were full of tenderness. His large hand, through the thick cotton-padded coat, gently stroked her stomach, as round as a big ball—his movements very soft.
“It’s just so heavy, weighing me down, really uncomfortable. My back aches terribly too.” Chuntao leaned on her hand to support her waist, catching her breath, her voice lacking strength.
Aunt Zhou turned her head to look over, a loving smile on her face as she chimed in, “You’ve got two babies in there, carrying twins is no easy thing! Once they’re born, you’ll be able to breathe easy.”
Zhou Zhijun lowered his head and said softly to Chuntao, “Tao, don’t worry. When they come out, I’m going to give them a good scolding to make them know how much their mother suffered!”
Aunt Zhou waved her hand with a laugh and then looked at Chuntao again. “It’s overcast today, no sign of the sun, so it’s hard to tell the time.
Tao, are you hungry? I’ll make you some soft pancakes and boil a bowl of porridge with peanuts in it to warm you up?”
Lately, Chuntao’s appetite had grown, and she got hungry easily, wanting to eat every little while, but never much at once.
Partly, she was afraid of pressing on the babies in her belly, and partly, she worried about getting too fat, which would make childbirth harder.
“Mm.” She raised her hand and gently pushed Zhou Zhijun’s arm. “You go help our mother start the fire.”
“I’ll do it.”
Second Aunt Zhou walked out from the inner room, her face expressionless, her eyes seeming vacant.
Ever since the incident with Liu Xianghua, Second Aunt Zhou had been in a daze, lying in bed all day, eating little and saying nothing.
At first, Aunt Zhou had sat by her bedside trying to console her, but after many attempts, she stopped.
It wasn’t out of impatience, but out of understanding—the searing pain of a mother losing a child was something only time could heal, something she had to endure on her own.
Now, a month or two had passed. Today, Second Aunt Zhou had gotten up on her own and even offered to start the fire, which surprised the two of them.
Zhou Zhijun and Chuntao both froze. “Second Aunt!” they called out in unison, their noses stinging, their eyes instantly welling up.
Second Aunt Zhou’s lips twitched, but she couldn’t manage a smile. She only gave them a slight nod and then walked with unsteady steps toward the kitchen.
Watching her shrinking, thinning figure, and hair that had turned mostly gray overnight, the two of them felt a lump in their throats, their vision blurring.
Zhou Zhijun quietly tightened his grip on Chuntao’s hand, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb.
A cold wind swept in through the doorway, carrying snowflakes that landed on their faces with a chill.
Snow began falling again in scattered flurries. Chuntao couldn’t help shivering and leaned closer to Zhou Zhijun.
“Come on, go lie down on the bed for a while. Don’t catch cold.”
He helped Chuntao into the inner room and had her sit on the edge of the bed first. Reaching out, he touched the covers—they were ice cold.
“Wait here. I’ll go to the kitchen and fill a hot water bottle to warm up the bedding and your feet.”
In no time, Zhou Zhijun came back with the hot water bottle and tucked it at the foot of the bed to warm it.
Then he crouched down to take off Chuntao’s cotton shoes and thick socks, gently helped her out of her padded coat and pants, leaving only her thin inner jacket and underdrawers, and helped her lie down slowly in the bedding.
Her belly was so big that she couldn’t lie on her side; she had to lie flat on her back, her hands resting lightly on her stomach, feeling the occasional movements of the babies inside.
“Tao.” Zhou Zhijun tucked the blanket snugly around her, brushed the stray strands of hair from her face and behind her ear, and stroked her cheek with his thumb, his eyes fixed on her delicate little face, unable to look away.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a mischievous grin. “Tao, do you remember? When were these two little ones conceived?”
“I don’t know.” Chuntao blushed, pushed at his arm, and turned her face away with a playful scold, her ears turning red.
“I bet it was that time in the river!”
Zhou Zhijun reached out and gently turned her face back, his voice low and husky. “Water is the source of life. It had to be that time, I’m sure of it!”
Actually, Chuntao had secretly figured it out—it was that time in the river.
Before, when they sneaked around, they were always nervous, their hearts in their throats, afraid of being caught.
But that time in the river, with no one around and the water cool and soothing, they had both been completely relaxed—and she ended up pregnant.
It seemed that conceiving a child really was tied to one’s mood.
She pressed her lips together and murmured softly, “Mm, probably.” Her little face flushed bright red, like a ripe apple, her eyes lowered as she didn’t dare look at him.
Zhou Zhijun leaned in, his warm breath brushing past her ear, and gently kissed her temple. His voice was as soft as melting water.
“Tao, after you’ve given birth and finished your month of recovery, I’m going to lease the village’s river dam. From then on, we’ll do it in the river every day!”
“You’re so annoying! You never act serious!” Chuntao turned her face away, her cheeks burning hot, even her neck flushed crimson.
But Zhou Zhijun cupped her face, pressing his forehead to hers, his nose against hers. “We’ve already signed the marriage certificate, and the babies are almost here—are you still shy?”
With that, his hot lips captured her soft, sweet mouth, gently kissing and nibbling.
“Tao, your face is like a peach blossom, so pink and tender, and your body has this faint milky scent—it makes my heart itch.”
His tongue gently parted her pearly teeth, deepening the kiss, heavier and more intense.
Chuntao’s mouth was sealed by his, leaving her only able to let out muffled sounds. Her small hands pressed against his chest, but she couldn’t push him away.
“Tao, you’re carrying babies, so we can’t do that... just let me kiss you...
Once the babies are born and you’ve finished your recovery, I’ll make it up to you, make up for all these months...”
Between breaths, the man’s earthy words slipped into Chuntao’s ears, burning her to the core, making her tremble all over, even her toes curling tightly.
Nothing was left in the room but the intertwining of their panting and the soft rustle of falling snow outside the window.
Aunt Zhou came slowly into the main room, one hand carrying a steaming bowl of porridge with peanuts, the other holding a small shallow basket.
Just as she reached the doorway of the inner room, about to call Zhou Zhijun out to get his meal, she heard voices from inside.
Aunt Zhou’s heart tightened, and her footsteps came to an abrupt halt. This Lao Er really was an old, reckless donkey, carrying on like this no matter the time of day or night.
Chuntao’s belly was so big now, and with twins inside, how could she withstand such rough treatment?
Back when she herself was six or seven months pregnant with Zhou Zhijun, she and her husband hadn’t been able to control themselves and nearly caused a disaster—even now, the memory sent chills down her spine.
Just as she was mulling it over, a startled scream suddenly erupted from the inner room, “Ah—”
