Chapter 37 This is too much!
As dusk fell, Zhao Yidi lay on the dining table in the main room doing her homework, but her eyes kept glancing towards the gate of the courtyard.
I scribbled on the notebook with my pencil for ages, but didn't write more than a few words.
She finally couldn't hold back any longer and looked up at Zhao Fei, who was serving rice, and asked, "Dad, where did Grandma go? Why isn't she back for dinner yet?"
Zhao Fei paused, his hand holding the spoon still.
He then realized that he hadn't seen Li Yugu since the afternoon.
Normally, she would be busy preparing dinner in the kitchen by this time.
"Maybe... she went to visit someone." He mumbled a reply, placing a bowl of millet porridge in front of his daughter. "Eat first."
At this moment, Wen Xiaoxiao came out of the kitchen carrying a small aluminum pot for warming milk for the two children.
Hearing this, she paused, lowered her eyes, and said softly, "Wang Juan gave birth. It's a son. Mom... she's probably gone over there."
With a loud clang.
Zhao Fei dropped the rice spoon into the porridge bowl, splashing out scalding hot porridge and burning the back of his hand.
He was completely unaware of it, his fist clenched tightly, and the veins on his arm bulged instantly.
The next instant, the fist slammed hard onto the old, red-lacquered dining table.
The whole table shook, and the dishes clattered.
"Dad!" Zhao Yidi cried out in fright, dropping the chopsticks in her hand.
Wen Xiaoxiao was so startled that she took a half step back.
Zhao Fei stood there, his chest heaving violently, and he forced out four words through gritted teeth, carrying a chilling undertone:
"This is outrageous!"
Wen Xiaoxiao looked at him, but strangely, she didn't feel much excitement.
Perhaps it's because they had long anticipated this day would come.
She walked calmly back to the east wing, her voice as indifferent as if she were talking about someone else: "Let them be. All I want now is to raise Yizhen and Yibao well."
She paused, then looked at Zhao Fei's tense profile. "Big brother, let's eat."
Zhao Fei slowly turned his head and saw the almost numb calmness on her face.
"Eat." He said in a hoarse voice, handing his daughter a new pair of chopsticks.
Zhao Yidi looked at her father's ashen face, then at her silent second aunt, and obediently buried her head in her rice, not daring to make a sound.
After finishing her meal, Zhao Yidi stood up and offered to wash the dishes: "I'll do the dishes."
"I don't need you, go do your homework." Wen Xiaoxiao stopped her, "The water's cold."
“Your aunt just finished her postpartum confinement period and can’t touch cold water,” Zhao Fei said at the same time. He took the bowl from his daughter’s hand and said in an unquestionable tone, “Go and see if your sister is awake. Dad will wash the bowl.”
Zhao Yidi said "Oh" and ran to the east wing to see her younger sister.
Zhao Fei rolled up his sleeves and carried the bowls and plates into the kitchen.
The cold groundwater washing over his hands helped clear his feverish mind.
That evening, Zhao Yidi very sensibly washed up by herself, then went to sleep in the west wing with her pillow.
She knew her grandmother might not be coming back tonight.
"Goodnight, Daddy. Goodnight, Auntie," she whispered, then closed the door.
Wen Xiaoxiao slept in the east wing with her two children.
Zhao Fei lay on the hard bed in the main room, his hands behind his head, staring at the blurry roof beams in the darkness.
The courtyard was unusually quiet; not even the occasional barking of dogs that usually occurs at night could be heard.
This silence, however, is unsettling.
Around 11 p.m., the faint sound of a child crying came from the east wing.
First there were whimpers, then the sound grew louder—it was crying. Zhao Fei immediately sat up and listened intently.
That was the sound of the eldest daughter, Yizhen, crying.
Soon, the smaller one, as if awakened by the noise or by telepathy, also started crying.
Yi Bao's cries were higher-pitched, and the cries of the two children rose and fell, sounding particularly heartbreaking in the quiet night.
Zhao Fei threw off the covers, put on his coat, and got out of bed.
He walked to the door of the east wing, hesitated for a moment, and then gently knocked: "Xiaoxiao?"
A weary voice came from inside: "The door isn't locked."
He pushed the door open and went in.
The room was dimly lit by only a small five-watt light bulb.
Wen Xiaoxiao leaned against the headboard, holding a baby in her arms and breastfeeding it. The other baby lay on the bed, crying with its little mouth open, its face red.
She was flustered, her hair damp with sweat and plastered to her pale cheeks.
“Yizhen woke up and wouldn’t go back to sleep. She played for a while and we just finished feeding her. We can’t soothe Yibao no matter what we do. I’m afraid she has an upset stomach…” Wen Xiaoxiao’s voice was filled with exhaustion and helplessness.
Zhao Fei walked to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) and naturally stretched out his hand: "Give me one."
Wen Xiaoxiao hesitated for a moment, but still handed over Yizhen, who had finished nursing but was still humming with her eyes open.
Zhao Fei took the limp little body, his movements a little stiff, but his arms steadily supported the child's head and neck.
Yizhen was in his arms, and seemed to find it novel. She stopped crying and looked at him with her big, dark eyes.
Zhao Fei breathed a sigh of relief and awkwardly shook his arm gently.
His gaze, however, fell on Wen Xiaoxiao, who was breastfeeding Yibao.
She was facing him sideways, her back slightly hunched.
His shoulders were so thin they couldn't hold his clothes up, his collarbones were sunken, and his neck was so thin it looked like it would break at any moment.
Two months ago at the hospital, she was pale, but not this thin.
Zhao Fei felt as if his heart was being gripped tightly by an icy hand, the pain making it hard for him to breathe.
He held his daughter, who was gently wriggling in his arms, his arm muscles taut.
After feeding the baby, Wen Xiaoxiao gently patted him to help him burp and put him back on the kang (heated brick bed).
Yi Bao felt comfortable, smacked her lips, closed her eyes, and fell asleep. Only then did she breathe a sigh of relief and wipe the cold sweat from her forehead.
"I'll comfort Yizhen, you lie down and rest for a while," Zhao Fei said softly.
Wen Xiaoxiao was indeed exhausted and had no strength to refuse. She gently hummed in agreement, carefully lay down on her side, and closed her eyes almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.
Zhao Fei held the child and sat down on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed).
Yizhen was very well-behaved. She didn't fuss in his arms, but just opened her eyes and looked curiously at this strange yet familiar "uncle".
Zhao Fei didn't know how to sing lullabies, but he patted her back very lightly and rhythmically, humming a tune that he himself didn't even know what it was.
The overwhelming feeling of being connected by blood brought tears to his eyes.
This is his child, yet he can only secretly hug her in the dead of night, as her "uncle".
He then looked up at Wen Xiaoxiao, who was sleeping soundly on the kang (a heated brick bed).
She was curled up, and even in her sleep, one hand was unconsciously placed on Yibao beside her, a gesture of complete protection.
Zhao Fei held the child and sat there for a long time.
Until Yizhen in his arms finally couldn't resist the drowsiness, yawned a little, her eyelids slowly closed, and her breathing became even and long.
He then carefully placed the child in the quilt next to Wen Xiaoxiao and tucked the blanket in.
The two little ones lay side by side, fast asleep.
He stood by the kang (a heated brick bed) and watched for a long time.
Finally, he bent down and very gently tucked a strand of hair that had slipped down Wen Xiaoxiao's cheek behind her ear.
His fingers touched his slightly flushed cheeks, like scalding red coals falling into his heart.
He left the east wing and gently closed the door behind him.
Back on his bed in the main room, he could no longer fall asleep.
I kept my eyes open until the sky outside the window gradually turned gray.
In the east wing, Wen Xiaoxiao slowly opened her eyes after Zhao Fei left.
Actually, she was never really asleep.
She could feel his gentle pats to soothe the child, and the restrained yet burning touches he made on her hair.
She reached into the pillowcase, where the hard gold bracelet pressed against her palm.
Nobody needs her here.
In the night when anyone can abandon her.
At least one person cherishes her.
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