Chuntao was almost at the end of her endurance, yet he was still making such shameless remarks.
“You’re so annoying. I’m dying here—hurry up and take me home!” Chuntao glared at him, both flustered and irritated.
But the moment her eyes met Zhou Zhijun’s dark gaze, filled with concern and utterly devoid of teasing, the little spark of anger in her heart vanished.
“Brother Zhijun, let’s hurry back. The two little ones must be hungry!”
Chuntao lowered her eyes and glanced at the damp marks spreading across the front of her blouse. Then she quickly looked at the pedestrians passing by, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
Without a word, Zhou Zhijun took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “Put this on!”
Before Chuntao could react, he turned and ran toward a small restaurant by the roadside. Not long afterward, he came hurrying back with a hot sesame flatbread clenched in his hand.
“Here, eat something first. I’ll take you home right away!”
Chuntao was suffering so badly from the pressure and pain that she could not eat at all. “I can’t.” She casually stuffed the flatbread into her pocket.
Seeing her pale face and tightly pressed lips, Zhou Zhijun felt both heartbroken and frantic. He wished he could bear the pain for her himself.
When they returned to where they had left the bicycle, Zhou Zhijun tied the large and small bundles they had bought at the market across the frame.
Then he swung his long leg over the bicycle and sat firmly on the seat. His voice softened. “Tao’er, get on.”
He pedaled so quickly that the wheels seemed ready to fly. Before long, a thin sheen of sweat had appeared all over his body.
Chuntao’s waist and back ached terribly, leaving her no choice but to keep her spine rigid.
But the dirt road was full of potholes. Every jolt made the pressure and pain worse, and she could not help drawing in quiet, sharp breaths.
“Tao, bear with it a little longer. We’ll be home soon.”
Every breath she took felt like a fine needle pricking Zhou Zhijun’s heart, making his chest tighten with pain.
The dirt road, usually only seven or eight li long, seemed endless now.
Chuntao felt the hard, swollen pressure in her chest growing heavier and heavier until she could barely breathe.
She quickly glanced around. The fields were empty, without a single person in sight. Lowering her voice, she said hurriedly, “Brother Zhijun, stop for a moment. I need to relieve myself.”
The moment Zhou Zhijun had steadied the bicycle, Chuntao had already jumped off and run along a narrow dirt path beside the road toward a ditch ahead.
She was not really there to relieve herself. She was looking for a secluded place to deal with the problem.
She had heard the older women say that if breast milk was held in for too long, it could dry up.
If that happened, the two little ones would suffer. Relying only on rice cereal would cost more money, and it would not provide enough nutrition.
Chuntao crouched at the bottom of the ditch and had just lifted the front of her blouse when she heard a loud clatter from the slope above.
Zhou Zhijun had actually thrown the bicycle onto the grass and leaped down after her.
The instant he realized that Chuntao had not come here to relieve herself, a rush of heat shot straight to his head.
It had already been more than half a year since he had touched her after she became pregnant.
Earlier, when he had said on the street that he would help her, he had only been half joking. He had even secretly cursed himself for being shameless enough to entertain such thoughts at a time like this.
But now, seeing how much she was suffering, that guilt faded away. All that remained was his deep concern for her—and the feeling that helping her was only natural.
His own wife was enduring such misery. If he did not help her, who would?
“Tao, let me help you…”
Chuntao shuddered in fright. Her hands went rigid at once, and her little face flushed bright red, all the way to the tips of her ears.
Without giving her a chance to object, Zhou Zhijun bent down, lifted her into his arms, and gently laid her on a patch of soft grass.
The surroundings were completely still. Only the faint rustle of grass in the wind broke the silence.
Zhou Zhijun’s heart tightened. Unable to think of anything else, he coaxed her in a hoarse whisper, “Don’t be scared. Let me help you. It won’t hurt once the blockage is cleared.”
He moved with extreme care. His palms bore the thin calluses earned from years of hard labor, yet they were scorching warm.
His heavy breathing carried a wave of heat that gently enveloped her.
Chuntao’s whole body was stiff. She was as red as a steamed shrimp, lying obediently without moving.
At first, she had only been suffering from unbearable fullness and pain. But now that he was touching her like this, a faint tremor slowly spread through her chest.
She could clearly feel that the movements born of Zhou Zhijun’s concern were gradually becoming tinged with an uncontrollable heat.
The pressure of his palm increased slightly, and his breathing grew heavier. The heat radiating from his entire body was almost frightening.
Chuntao’s legs instinctively tried to draw up. When her knee brushed against his tense, hardened abdomen, she hurriedly and quietly straightened them again.
He kept his head lowered. His voice was so hoarse it was almost unrecognizable, filled with desire he had suppressed for far too long.
“Tao… it’s been more than half a year since I’ve had you. Today… I really want you.”
Chuntao’s whole body went weak, and even the pain faded by more than half. Her cheeks burned as though they might catch fire.
She knew his temperament too well!
He had forcibly restrained himself for more than half a year. Just thinking about it made it hard to believe.
Then she remembered how he had worked tirelessly both inside and outside the home during those months, caring for her in every possible way. Her heart softened. Although she did not answer, she did not push him away either.
The breeze drifted lightly over the slope of the ditch. The grass all around them was silent, leaving only the two of them breathing in a tangled, heated rhythm.
The warm spring sunlight spilled through the branches overhead. It was dazzling, yet seemed deliberately to avoid this hidden corner that belonged only to them.
No one knew how much time passed before Zhou Zhijun’s warm breath fell against the crown of her head. His voice was still husky with the aftermath.
“Tao, do you feel better now?”
Chuntao buried her little face against his chest and said nothing. She merely snuggled a little farther into his arms.
“Tao, it’s been more than half a year. I’ve been going crazy with need. Just once isn’t nearly enough…”
He lowered his head and rubbed the top of her hair, his tone carrying a hint of shameless coaxing.
“We’re legally married now. From here on out, I can hold you while we sleep every day, right out in the open. That Simmons mattress I bought is so soft…”
Chuntao’s face grew even redder.
“Stop talking! Aren’t you embarrassed?” She clenched her small fists and lightly pounded his solid chest.
That little bit of strength was no more than a tickle to Zhou Zhijun. If anything, it felt rather pleasant.
But Chuntao’s own hand hurt from the impact, and she could not help crying, “Ow!”
Zhou Zhijun quickly caught her little hand and brought it to his lips, blowing gently on it with a low laugh.
“Little girl, you still dare to fight me?”
“You’re as hard as an iron bar. I hurt my hand hitting you!” Chuntao complained softly.
Zhou Zhijun gave a quiet laugh, his voice muffled and carrying a roguish edge.
“An iron bar is dependable. What good is a soft noodle? Isn’t that right?”
Chuntao said nothing more. Her small mouth pursed slightly, and her long lashes trembled as they brushed against his chest again and again, making his heart itch.
She tentatively extended an arm and lightly wrapped it around his waist. His waist was firm and strong, without an ounce of excess flesh.
Zhou Zhijun was a true strongman, someone she could depend on with complete confidence.
But when she remembered that he would be leaving in a few days to help with the reservoir repairs—and that she had no idea when he would return—a sharp ache suddenly seized her heart. An empty, desolate feeling surged through her.
She did not want him to leave. She did not want to be apart from him for even a moment.
If only time could stop here forever, with him holding her like this—without parting, without troubles. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?
“What are you thinking about?” Zhou Zhijun raised a hand and gently lifted her apple-red face. His eyes lowered to hers, filled with tenderness and love.
Chuntao did not dare say what was in her heart. She was afraid of making things difficult for him, and afraid that he would suffer along with her. She only shook her head lightly.
“Nothing.”
She released her arms from around his waist and braced herself against the ground, trying to get up. “Let’s go. The two little ones must be hungry by now.”
“They won’t go hungry. There’s rice flour at home, and Mother already fed them.” Zhou Zhijun pulled her back and held her for a while longer before finally letting go, reluctant to part.
By the time they got home, Aunt Zhou and the others had already finished lunch. The two children had drunk their rice flour and were sleeping soundly.
Zhou Haiying and Aunt Zhou sat in the courtyard, busily sewing a new padded jacket. The bright red fabric was dazzling, its vivid color warming the heart.
Chuntao gazed at that brilliant red and quietly hoped that the days ahead would be just like the jacket—full of warmth, prosperity, and lively promise.
Yet the ache in her heart at the thought of parting grew stronger and stronger.
Who knew what might happen once Zhou Zhijun left?
