Chuntao sat curled up in the warm water, steam drifting upward and making her eyes hazy.
Her little face was buried in the mist, her whole body burning hot—even the tips of her ears were flushed.
Zhou Zhijun’s broad hand touched her slender, fair ankle and slowly moved upward, the callused pads of his fingers gently stroking her skin.
Chuntao’s body was taut as a bowstring. She held both hands protectively in front of herself, breathing so softly that it was almost inaudible.
“Relax. I’m just helping you wash. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He reached out and gently moved her hands to the rim of the basin.
She lowered her head even more. Wisps of hair clung to her burning forehead, while the flush at her neck spread downward and melted into the warm water.
Looking at the petite, soft woman before him, Zhou Zhijun swallowed hard, heat surging in his dark eyes. “Don’t be scared. I’ll be gentle. I won’t hurt you.”
He restrained his strength, making his fingertips even gentler, not daring to be the slightest bit rough.
He scooped up a handful of warm water and slowly poured it over her shoulder. The stream slid lightly along the graceful curves of her body.
Zhou Zhijun said nothing more. He simply concentrated on bathing her, his large hands treating every inch of her with the utmost tenderness.
Yet Chuntao felt as though electricity were running through her. Her heartbeat quickened, and even the water in the basin seemed to grow hotter from the heat radiating off her body.
She stole a glance at him, only to meet his deep, smoldering black eyes.
Startled, she hurriedly lowered her head. Her fingers, gripping the rim of the basin, loosened and tightened again.
The unease and shyness in her heart gradually gave way to a warm softness, mixed with a trace of anticipation she could not put into words.
At the bedside, red candles flickered, bathing the room in a warm glow. The large red character for “double happiness” pasted on the earthen wall was dazzlingly bright.
On the inner side of the bed, Nuannuan slept soundly, her tiny brows relaxed and her little nose rising and falling gently. Nothing disturbed the tender atmosphere in the room.
Zhou Zhijun gazed at Chuntao’s flushed profile and watched her long lashes tremble. His heart softened completely.
Thinking that he would soon be leaving to work on the reservoir, and that he had no idea how long it would be before he could return, his nose suddenly stung with emotion. The movements of his hands grew even gentler, filled with reluctance to part.
After washing Chuntao, he took a fresh towel and carefully dried her before lifting her horizontally into his arms and placing her on the large mattress.
The soft mattress sank beneath her weight, and half her body disappeared into it.
She hurriedly reached for her undershirt and shorts, but Zhou Zhijun snatched them away first and set them aside. In a gruff voice, he coaxed, “Don’t bother putting them on. You’ll only have to take them off again later.”
He gently laid her flat, then pulled a brand-new red cotton quilt over her, leaving only the top of her little head exposed.
“Tao.” He bent over her, his hot breath brushing the crown of her head. His voice was low and husky. “After I wash up, I’m going to have my way with you properly and make up for the wedding night we never had.”
Chuntao’s body went limp, yet her eyes inexplicably grew damp.
He was about to leave for the reservoir. She had no idea how long he would be gone, and the thought weighed heavily on her heart. Too shy to say anything, she merely bit her lower lip and softly answered, “Mm.”
Her faint voice was wrapped in the steam, but it still made Zhou Zhijun’s heart tremble.
He did not dare delay. He quickly wiped himself down with the water Chuntao had used, pulled on his undershirt and trousers, then went to the kitchen, ladled out some hot water, and rinsed himself again in the outhouse.
He hurried back to the north room, slid the door bar firmly into place, and secured it tight.
“Tao, I’m coming in!”
Chuntao curled up beneath the quilt, covering her head and face completely, with only a few strands of black hair spilling out.
Zhou Zhijun was so eager that he lifted the quilt without a word and climbed inside. Chuntao hurriedly turned onto her side, presenting her back to him.
His hot breath immediately enveloped her. From behind, he wrapped her tightly in his broad, sturdy arms, shielding her small body completely.
Her burning face was buried in the quilt. Between her loose black hair, only a section of her flushed nape could be seen.
When his hot body pressed against hers, Chuntao shuddered violently. Like a startled kitten, she instinctively shrank farther toward the inside of the bed.
Her voice came muffled from beneath the quilt, soft and trembling. “Y-you have to be quiet… Don’t wake Nuannuan, and don’t let anyone hear us…”
Chuntao had only recently finished her month of postpartum confinement, and her body had not fully recovered. A few days earlier, when they had been on the way home from the market, he had been especially gentle with her.
Tonight, he had originally wanted to indulge himself, but he was afraid of hurting her.
“Tao, does it hurt? If it does, tell me, and I’ll be even gentler.”
Before, whenever they did this, he had always been like a wild horse that had broken free of its reins, unable to stop himself once he started.
But tonight, he was being so careful that Chuntao found herself unaccustomed to it. Her body remained tense.
She did not want to dampen his enthusiasm. She knew he had endured for a long time, and tonight was also their belated wedding night. Thus, she bit her lip and spoke so softly that only the two of them could hear.
“It doesn’t hurt.”
Zhou Zhijun asked hoarsely, “Does it feel good? Tonight, you’re in charge. I’ll do whatever feels good to you. If you have any requests, just tell me.”
Usually, he was the one who made all the decisions. Tonight, however, he was asking her instead. Chuntao felt as though her entire body were catching fire. Even her insides seemed to burn and tremble, leaving her unable to say a word. She only buried her face deeper.
Zhou Zhijun’s voice was terribly husky. “Good girl. I’ll take it slow.”
The new bed, new sheets, and new cotton stuffing made the quilt warm enough to burn. The candlelight shimmered across the red quilt cover, rising and falling gently with the bedding.
On the inner side of the bed, Nuannuan slept peacefully, her tiny body curled into a ball, showing no sign of waking.
Chuntao’s back rested against his scorching chest, allowing her to feel every beat of his strong, powerful heart.
Each beat struck against her back, throwing her breathing into disarray and making her heart lose its rhythm as well.
Her cheeks burned like little furnaces. Her ears and neck were unbearably hot, and the fingers she had clenched beneath the quilt trembled uncontrollably.
She breathed in the faint scent of soap on him, mingled with the robust, earthy fragrance of a hardworking farmer. It wrapped around her senses and left her flustered and restless.
In a small, trembling voice, she murmured, “Brother Zhijun… I’m scared…”
She was afraid that their movements would be too loud and someone would hear them. She was afraid that he might lose control and hurt her. More than anything, she was afraid that this rare tenderness would disappear in the blink of an eye.
Hearing her, Zhou Zhijun’s heart softened. His arm tightened slightly, pulling her closer.
He rested his chin lightly against the top of her head, rubbing against her soft hair. His warm breath drifted down, making her shiver again.
“Don’t be scared. Tonight, it’s just the two of us in the north room. The door’s bolted tight, and Ma is holding Jianshe in the east room. No one will come bother us.
“Tao, I can’t bear to leave you. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone working on the reservoir before I can hold you again… and have you…”
His broad hand moved gently over her, without a trace of roughness—filled only with affection and reluctance to part.
Hearing his words, Chuntao’s eyes instantly burned. Her nose grew sore, and tears slipped down her cheeks.
The tension slowly left her body until she relaxed completely in his arms.
She reached out and clutched his thick arm tightly, her voice soft with tears. “I can’t bear to part with you either… When you leave, don’t work yourself too hard. Take good care of yourself…”
He gently turned her trembling body so that she faced him, then cupped her shy, bashful face in both hands.
In the dim candlelight, her eyes were rimmed with red, and her long lashes trembled, wet with tears. Two drops clung to their tips, ready to fall. Her rosy lips were pressed tightly together, like a ripe cherry.
The man lowered his head and kissed her gently. The tips of their noses brushed as their breaths mingled—hot, yet tender.
“I know. I know everything…”
His rough fingertips gently wiped away the tear at the corner of her eye, tracing its path downward, while his arm held her tightly around the waist, every ounce of strength conveying both tenderness and possessiveness.
The warmth beneath the covers continued to rise. Red candles flickered, bathing the room in a festive glow.
The two lovers lay wrapped in the crimson quilt, holding each other close. On this long-awaited wedding night, their tenderness slowly unfolded—passionate, lingering, and impossible to part.
