Chapter 27 He's Too Aggressive
The man's burning heat, mixed with the scent of grass and earth, enveloped her completely.
Zhao Wenchang was jolted awake by that bite; all the nerves that had been numbed by alcohol were instantly ignited, like dry wood meeting a raging fire, bursting into flames with a "boom".
He grunted, the brute strength he had honed in the army over the years now somewhat out of control. With a flip, he regained control, pinning the unruly "little fox" beneath him firmly to the grass.
He lowered his head, his heavy breathing spraying onto Jiang Wanqiu's face. His deep eyes were frighteningly dark in the moonlight, like a wild beast about to break free of its cage.
"Disobedient? Hmm?" He lowered his voice, his tone hoarse and aggressive, a quality unfamiliar to Jiang Wanqiu.
His large hand mercilessly gripped her slender waist, the force so great it felt as if he wanted to meld her into his own body.
"pain……"
Jiang Wanqiu subconsciously hummed.
That sudden pain was like a key, abruptly unlocking a memory from her past life.
In his past life, Wang Jianjun was like this when he was drunk.
He would look at her with those frightening eyes, pinch her with that irresistible force, and knead and beat her like a lump of dough.
The fear of being powerless to resist and at the mercy of others instantly surged from her mind and took control of her entire body.
It hurt so much. She felt a sharp pain in some place where the man was pinching her, maybe her waist, maybe her leg, she couldn't say, but it just hurt. Under the numbing effect of alcohol, all her senses were blurred.
His face, which had just been wearing a sly smile, suddenly turned deathly pale.
"Let me go... let me go!"
She began to struggle violently, her voice trembling with sobs.
This sudden resistance made Zhao Wenchang pause.
He lowered his head and, by the moonlight, saw the face of the woman in his arms.
Those bright, sparkling eyes were now devoid of any of their previous liveliness and cunning, filled only with terror and tears. Large tears rolled down her cheeks, falling silently onto the grass.
This was like a bucket of ice water, drenching Zhao Wenchang from head to toe.
The rage in his head vanished instantly, and he sobered up considerably, along with the effects of the alcohol.
He quickly let go of her hand and asked, somewhat flustered, "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"
Jiang Wanqiu curled up, hugged her knees, buried her head in them, and only suppressed sobs and a muffled, trembling sentence remained.
"I'm scared..."
Zhao Wenchang felt as if something had clenched his heart, leaving him feeling both sore and aching.
He sighed, feeling both angry and heartbroken.
This woman, it's always the same, she starts a fire and runs away. Why did she scare herself like this again this time?
He sat up, looked at their disheveled clothes, and remained silent for a moment. He reached out his calloused fingers and gently wiped away the tear stains on Jiang Wanqiu's face.
"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid. It's my fault for scaring you." He awkwardly comforted her, while helping her straighten her disheveled collar and buttoning up his shirt one button at a time.
Once he had recovered and the fever had completely subsided, he bent down and picked up the girl, who was still sobbing softly, and carried her back in his arms.
"Don't be afraid, I won't do anything else, let's go home now." His voice was calm and reassuring.
Jiang Wanqiu sniffed and buried her face in the man's broad chest, it was unclear whether she heard his comforting words.
When I got home, a wave of warmth hit me.
The light in the main room was still on, and Grandma Zhao Xiaohua was sitting on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) sewing shoe soles, clearly waiting for them.
As soon as Zhao Wenchang carried her in, she immediately stood up, glanced at Jiang Wanqiu in his arms with her eyes closed and her cheeks flushed, and complained in a low voice, "Why did she drink like this? Wenchang, let me tell you, you have to take good care of her tonight! She's been frightened and drunk, and she's very sensitive to drafts. You absolutely can't let her get chilled, or she'll develop a chronic illness and suffer a lot later!"
"I understand, Mother," Zhao Wenchang replied, carrying the person quickly into the inner room.
The earthen bed in the room was already warm from the fire. He gently placed Jiang Wanqiu on the bed and pulled a quilt over her to cover her up.
Perhaps the warmth dispelled the chill, and Jiang Wanqiu groggily opened her eyes, her gaze unfocused, unsure whether she was in this life or a past life.
In a daze, she seemed to have returned to the cramped Wang family home, where she could hardly breathe.
Every time, for the sake of that good-for-nothing Wang Jianjun's future, she was dragged along to drink with those greasy leaders. Returning home, reeking of smoke and alcohol, and subjected to the stares of those people, made her feel utterly disgusted.
She sat up abruptly, struggling to get off the bed: "I need to take a bath... I'm filthy..."
Zhao Wenchang shoved her back down, his brow furrowed: "Nonsense! It's so cold in the middle of the night in Northeast China, and you're still drunk. Why are you taking a hot bath? Do you want to die suddenly? Lie down properly!"
Jiang Wanqiu blinked her hazy eyes and looked for a long time before she finally recognized the angular face in front of her.
"Zhao Wenchang..." she murmured, and most of the panic in her heart dissipated.
She stopped nagging about taking a bath, but then made a new request, tugging at his sleeve and refusing to let go: "Then I need to change my clothes, this outfit is uncomfortable."
She guessed it was too dark outside and the man couldn't see clearly, so the buttons on her clothes were misaligned, making them very uncomfortable. She fumbled to unbutton them.
Zhao Wenchang had no choice but to let her have her way: "Fine, tell me what clothes you want to change into, and I'll find them for you."
Jiang Wanqiu obediently raised her hand and pointed to a corner by the kang (a heated brick bed): "That's the one I put there during the day."
Zhao Wenchang looked in the direction she pointed and saw something curled up in a small ball lying quietly on the bedding.
He reached out and took it, then unfolded it and was immediately stunned.
That thing had very little fabric; it was just a few thin straps connecting two small pieces of cloth of unknown material, which, when rolled up, were no bigger than the palm of his hand.
He was a grown man who had served in the military for almost ten years; he had never seen anything like this before.
He held the thin straps, examining them from all angles, his face filled with undisguised confusion: "This...is this clothing? How do you put this thing on?"
Jiang Wanqiu looked at his silly face and burst out laughing, her drunken face regaining some of its radiance.
She propped herself up and sat up, proudly tossing her chin at him.
"Why can't I wear it? You wait, I'll put it on and show you right now!"
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