Chapter 3 Big Brother, all I want to do is wash my feet.
The snoring coming from the east wing was particularly jarring in the quiet night.
Zhao Fei waited, hoping that Zhao Qingda would rush out cursing and swearing, his wife, who had just run out barefoot.
No, there isn't.
He turned to look at the west wing. The window was dark, and Li Yugu was probably fast asleep and hadn't been woken up.
In the entire courtyard, it seemed as if he was the only one awake, along with the indifferent moon shining in the sky.
That's not right.
Without further hesitation, he strode over, picked up the shoes, and held them in his hand. They felt light, yet as heavy as a thousand pounds.
He went back to his room to get a flashlight, pushed his bicycle against the wall, and quietly left the courtyard.
Zhao Fei rode slowly, his eyes filtering through every corner like a sieve.
Wen Xiaoxiao had no idea where she was.
My parents died early, and my older brother is far away on a construction site in the south. This small town, this courtyard house, which I once thought was my home, is now only filled with bone-chilling cold.
She had considered divorce, but where would she go if she got divorced?
People will talk behind her back.
Zhao Qingda's comment, "a hen that can't lay eggs," stripped her of her last shred of dignity.
She walked aimlessly, her bare feet already filthy.
Somehow, I ended up at the small ditch on the edge of town.
Looking at her dirty feet, she suddenly had a very simple thought: they're too dirty, I need to wash them.
It seems that washing my feet clean can wash away a little bit of the mess of the night.
She staggered down the gentle slope, squatted by the water's edge, and dipped her feet into the icy river.
The cold water made her shiver, but it also brought a kind of self-destructive clarity.
Just then, the sharp sound of bicycle wheels shattered the silence! This was followed by a near-crisp scream: "Xiaoxiao! Don't do anything stupid!!!"
Before Wen Xiaoxiao could react, an arm gripped her waist tightly from behind, and the immense force dragged her violently backward away from the water's edge! Terrified, she instinctively struggled and screamed.
"Don't jump! Don't jump into the river! What can't you get across! Qingda, you bastard, you can't do something like this!" Zhao Fei's voice trembled violently, and his arm was so tight it hurt her.
"Let me go! Let me go!" Wen Xiaoxiao turned around in a panic, the flashlight beam illuminating Zhao Fei's horrified face.
It's not Zhao Qingda. It's Zhao Fei.
My body suddenly relaxed, followed by an even more overwhelming despair.
Her legs went weak, and if Zhao Fei hadn't been holding her, she would have almost collapsed to the ground.
"I...I didn't mean to jump into the river..." Her voice was hoarse and broken. "I just...my feet were too dirty...I wanted to wash them..."
Zhao Fei froze, loosening his grip on his arm slightly, but not letting go completely.
He was panting heavily as he shone his flashlight up and down at Wen Xiaoxiao.
Her hair was disheveled, and the red, swollen finger marks on her face were clearly visible. Her eyes were filled with fear, and her muddy feet were still wet.
It certainly doesn't seem like someone who wants to commit suicide...
He let out a long breath, as if the stone blocking his chest had been lifted a little, but his heart ached even more from her appearance.
He slowly released her, but still stood between her and the water's edge.
"Really... just washing feet?" He asked again, still unsure.
Wen Xiaoxiao nodded vigorously, tears streaming down her face like a broken string of pearls.
Zhao Fei didn't say anything more, turned off the flashlight, and squatted down in the dim moonlight.
The stones by the river were icy cold.
He stretched out his rough, large hands, scooped up a handful of river water, and gently poured it onto her muddy feet.
One after another.
His movements were clumsy, even somewhat stiff, but exceptionally meticulous; he even carefully brushed away the mud and sand between his toes with his fingers.
Wen Xiaoxiao stood frozen in place, forgetting to cry, just staring blankly down at the screen.
The moonlight outlined his broad back and his lowered head.
This man, who was the undisputed leader at the pig farm and could carry hundreds of kilograms of feed with ease, was now squatting by the river, washing the feet of his younger sister-in-law.
Zhao Qingda had never done anything like this before.
This contrast was like a needle, unexpectedly piercing through the last bit of hard shell she was trying to maintain.
A sob escaped from deep within his throat.
Zhao Fei froze, his hands pausing.
He didn't look up or say anything, but quickly washed her feet, then took out a towel from his pocket and carefully dried the water droplets on her feet, even gently dabbing the bloodstains on her ankles caused by the grass.
Finally, he picked up the sandals and carefully slipped them onto her feet.
He stood up, his voice low and hoarse, "Let's go home."
Wen Xiaoxiao couldn't speak, she just kept crying.
Zhao Fei pushed the bicycle over and patted the back seat: "Get on, I'll take you back. It's dark."
Wen Xiaoxiao mechanically sat down.
At first, she just clutched his shirt tightly.
The car bumped along the potholed dirt road, then suddenly veered off course, causing him to lose his balance. He instinctively reached out and grabbed her thin waist.
Zhao Fei's whole body jolted, his back straightened instantly, and his pedaling motion paused noticeably, almost causing the wheels to slip.
But he quickly regained his composure, said nothing, and just pedaled harder.
The night wind swept over us, and we drove in silence, the only sounds being the soft rustling of wheels on the road and the occasional bark of a dog in the distance.
Back in the courtyard house, the snoring in the east wing continued, and the west wing remained dark and silent.
Zhao Fei parked the car, turned around, and looked at Wen Xiaoxiao.
Under the moonlight, her face was still wet with tears, her skin was still red and swollen, and her eyes were empty.
"Go back... and rest." His voice was hoarse.
Wen Xiaoxiao nodded and said in a barely audible voice, "Thank you, brother." Then, with her head down, she quickly walked towards the east wing.
Zhao Fei stood in the courtyard until he heard the sound of the door bolt being locked before he went back to his room.
He lay down, but couldn't fall asleep; he stared at the roof beams with his eyes open.
In the east wing, Wen Xiaoxiao locked the door and leaned against the cold door panel.
On the kang (a heated brick bed), Zhao Qingda was sprawled out, fast asleep.
She walked over and stood by the kang (a heated brick bed), and a spark suddenly ignited in the ashes in her heart.
She raised her hand and, with all her might, slapped him hard across the face with a crisp "smack!"
In his dream, Zhao Qingda's head lolled to the side from the blow. He mumbled a curse, scratched his burning cheek impatiently, turned over, and began snoring again.
Wen Xiaoxiao stood on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), looking at the man she had shared a bed with for two years but who was now a stranger to her, and felt a chill run down her spine.
She stopped crying and making a fuss, and just lay down on the other side of the kang (a heated brick bed) fully clothed until dawn.
The next morning, Wen Xiaoxiao got up as usual, started a fire, cooked a pot of millet porridge, steamed buns, and shredded pickled vegetables.
Zhao Qingda was awakened by the aroma of food. He sat up with a yawn, his face still bearing several fresh bloodstains.
He saw Wen Xiaoxiao's swollen face, his eyes darted away for a moment, and he didn't say anything, burying his head in drinking porridge and eating steamed buns.
Zhao Yidi came over with her schoolbag and ate breakfast at Wen Xiaoxiao's place.
The child sensed something was wrong, glanced at his aunt, then at his uncle, and obediently finished his meal without saying a word and left.
Li Yugu brought over a bowl to add porridge, and his brows furrowed immediately when he noticed the glaring scratches on his son's face: "Qingda, what happened to your face? It looks like a wild cat scratched it!"
Zhao Qingda didn't even look up, and mumbled, "Xiaoxiao scratched it."
"What?" Li Yugu's voice rose as he turned to Wen Xiaoxiao, who was silently washing the pots by the stove. "Xiaoxiao! Why did you hit her so hard? Can't you talk things out?"
Zhao Qingda swallowed a mouthful of steamed bun and added casually, "I slapped her too."
Li Yugu raised his hand to pat Wen Xiaoxiao's back, but stopped abruptly in mid-air.
She whirled around and slapped Zhao Qingda hard on the back of the head, her voice filled with anger: "You bastard! You hit a woman?! You've really grown bold, Zhao Qingda! She's your wife! What's the big deal that you have to resort to violence? Huh?"
Zhao Qingda shrank back as he was hit, muttering, "Who told her to scratch me like a mad cat first... She can't lay eggs and has such a bad temper..."
"Shut up!" Li Yugu shouted sharply, his finger almost poking his nose. "How dare you say such nonsense? Go drive! Just seeing you makes me angry!"
Zhao Qingda finished his meal in a few bites, wiped his mouth, and left.
After washing the dishes, Wen Xiaoxiao returned to the room, closed the door, lay down on the kang (a heated brick bed) fully clothed, and stared at the roof beams without moving.
In the courtyard, Li Yugu sighed, shook his head, muttered "troublesome thing" under his breath, and began feeding the chickens and tending the vegetable garden.
Looking out the window of the main house, Zhao Fei stared at the tightly closed door of the east wing.
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