Chapter 181 Husband 18
People change, Wen Hui realized, and the initial nervousness and vigilance disappeared, replaced by a slight sense of guilt and heartache when she saw the red mark on his cheek.
"...If you have something to say, just talk it over. Don't use force." Wen Hui moved forward, cupping his face. Zheng Song tilted his head in response to her force, moving his face closer to hers. He watched her closely and whispered, "Hui Hui, it's okay even if you try harder."
Wen Hui replied unhappily, "Am I that kind of person?"
As he spoke, the marks on Zheng Song's cheeks faded. This was the first time Wen Hui had hit him since they married. Although Zheng Song had held her hand, the feeling of slapping someone made her feel uncomfortable.
She said, "Zheng Song."
Zheng Song held her hand, moved it away, and placed it in his arms.
"Yeah." He responded.
His eyes were gentle, in stark contrast to the way he had torn her nightgown before. At this moment, he seemed like a spring breeze blowing on her face, and his breath was filled with sweet and refreshing air. She finally had the confidence to say what she had been holding back in her heart.
"...You know best what kind of person I am. I regarded those words you said as just crazy talk because you were not feeling well. You can't do that again in the future," her eyes were red. Although Zheng Song admitted his mistakes in a good attitude, coaxing her and asking her to fight, the words he said were too harsh and simply crushed her dignity.
The pain in her lower abdomen grew stronger. She covered her stomach with one hand and continued without giving it much thought, "I understand how you feel, but if you feel uncomfortable, tell me. I'll do everything I can to help you. Don't use me as a trash can for venting your anger for no reason. It's a terrible feeling, like swallowing a stomach full of rotten oranges, sour and bitter. It's really, really uncomfortable."
He did a terrible job.
The monster thought so.
Wen Hui's tears were like drops of water falling on the lake, suddenly causing ripples. His face was full of guilt, and when Wen Hui paused, he admitted the blame without hesitation. When she spoke, he listened carefully. Any excuses he made would be powerless, and he could only wait patiently for Wen Hui to vent her grievances.
He stared intently at his wife's tear-stained cheek and wiped away the warm tears with his fingertips. After he killed Zheng Song and gained absolute control over the identity of Wen Hui's husband, the hidden joy and pride in his victory over Zheng Song in his heart all disappeared.
He realized that he was also to blame.
If he had not used Zheng Song's identity with a clear conscience, if he had not allowed Zheng Song's consciousness to be taken control by him during the day, the things that caused Wen Hui to feel wronged and painful would not have happened.
Her tears were like boiling fire, burning his heart so much that it trembled uncontrollably, and the soles of his feet melted into sticky flesh and blood, surging with pain.
The monster hugged Wen Hui, and Wen Hui rested her forehead on his chest. The man's chest, which was slightly hardened from long-term fitness training, suddenly became warm and soft when she touched it, like a loose cloud. Wen Hui was stunned for a moment, and then her neck felt warm and cool, and her consciousness was pulled back -
Is he crying?
The man's embrace was filled with the faint scent of jasmine, the scent of her nightgown. The collar of his shirt had been ripped open, revealing his honey-colored chest like a faded brown sugar cake. She felt dizzy, and the pain in her lower abdomen, mixed with a dense, stabbing pain, attacked her brain. She frowned, staring at the faintly visible pale red stamens, and said in a muffled voice, "...Zheng Song, what's wrong with you?"
The monster embraced his wife and dropped a bombshell: "Zheng Song is dead."
Wen Hui was suddenly stunned: "You, what nonsense are you talking about!"
The monster tilted its head and kissed her hair. The soft kiss made Wen Hui feel a strange numbness in her lower abdomen, and a dull pain came down. Her face turned pale in an instant, and the faint smell of blood seemed to linger in her nose.
She was wearing a silk nightgown. The air conditioner was on in the room, making it warm. Two thin straps held up her flowing skirt, and the sheets were soaked by the sudden onset of her menstrual period.
Zheng Song's kiss fell on her ear and his gentle voice rang out: "Hui Hui, I will be a good husband in the future."
His voice suddenly stiffened, and the strength of his hands holding her waist increased. The tip of his nose twitched slightly twice, and a faint fishy smell filled the air.
Women's menstruation is very strange. Even if you feel it before it comes, your body will not feel any discomfort. But the moment the blood comes, it is as if all the strength in your body is drained away, making you weak and dizzy. Wen Hui's already sore skin was pinched by him, and she cried out in pain.
Was that a confession of guilt? Because what he had done was truly excessive, he used death to symbolize rebirth, to demonstrate his attitude and determination to admit his mistakes.
Wen Hui didn't expect that someone like him would do such childish things.
She said, "Don't talk nonsense. Um... let me go first, I need to deal with it... What are you doing!"
He held Wen Hui in his arms like a child, her buttocks resting on his legs. The movement of their bodies sent waves crashing down upon her. She closed her eyes in shame, secretly blaming Zheng Song for this, saying, "He's been holding her for no reason!" She glanced at the light-colored casual trousers. He chose light colors when there were so many other colors he could wear...
She was so ashamed that she didn't notice that the man in front of her looked extremely painful.
How would a monster know that women have their periods every month?
The blood-stained sheets caught his eye, and he gasped in agony. Why was Hui Hui bleeding? With a faint hope, he sniffed the scent and found the source hidden under Wen Hui's silk nightgown. His hands and lips trembled, "Hui Hui, Hui Hui... Don't scare me, what's going on..."
Wen Hui held his hand, her cheeks flushed with shame: "Don't move!"
She thought to herself that Zheng Song had been so busy lately that he had gone crazy. She glanced at the bed sheet and was suddenly shocked to see the bloodstain, which was really scary.
But would Zheng Song's performance be too much? She felt that the eyes he looked at her were full of sadness, and she had an illusion that the next moment he would let out a beast-like howl from his throat.
How can you have such a weird idea?
Zheng Song's tone was filled with pleading: "Hui Hui, stop making trouble. Let me see."
Wen Hui was really afraid that he would cry, and the dull pain in her lower abdomen was relieved a lot. No matter what misunderstanding, seeing him so worried about her, she smiled. She raised her head from his arms, took hold of his hands that kept trying to lift up her nightgown, and said in a tone of anger: "Are you stupid? I'm on my period, what do you think it is? You're so scared that you're crying? Okay, okay, don't cry, let me down, I'll go take care of it. Um...if you stay like this, do you still want your pants?"
He hid his confusion well. He responded to Wen Hui's words, loosened her hand, and stared at her back. The room was filled with the smell of blood. He saw that the blood on his pants was even more smudged than on the bed sheets. He was filled with anxiety and pain. He found his phone and clicked on the word "menstruation" in the search box.
call.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
Wen Hui cleaned up in the bathroom, changed into cotton pajamas, and found the heat pads on the bedside table. She applied them to her lower abdomen and lower back. The dull pain in her abdomen was much relieved by the warmth. There was no one in the room, so she didn't pay much attention. Just as she was about to lift the sheets and wash them, they were gone. She changed them into a brand new one with a new pattern.
She left the bedroom and heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom in the living room.
Push open the door.
The sheets were balled up and stuffed into the basin on the sink. He grabbed a dirty corner and scrubbed it with soap. When he heard Wen Hui's voice, he turned his head to look at her: "Hui Hui, lie down on the bed. I'll take care of lunch. I bought a lot of fresh food on the way home."
Wen Hui did not try to be stubborn. She was tired, and Zheng Song understood her. She was very happy and rubbed against Zheng Song, put her arm around his arm, stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the side of his cheek.
Then she ran back to bed.
Wen Hui was lying on the bed, clutching her stomach, looking at her phone. When Zheng Song came in, she glanced at him. The man's cheeks were noticeably red. He placed a cup of boiled brown sugar water on the bedside table and asked earnestly, "Does your stomach hurt?"
Wen Hui's eyes narrowed, and the heat from the brown sugar water made her cheeks flushed. She grabbed Zheng Song's arm, pulled him to sit next to her, and said, "You can't ask me if it hurts."
Zheng Song: "Hmm? What do you mean, Huihui?"
Wen Hui likes looking into Zheng Song's eyes recently. He always has an ignorant puppy-like look in his eyes, and her figure is reflected in his pupils, wrapped in a gentle light, as if she is being loved by him wholeheartedly, and her heart trembles.
She started talking more, bravely expressing her thoughts: "It was already painful, or it was bearable pain. When you asked that word, it intensified the impression of that word in my mind, so wouldn't it make the pain even worse?"
Zheng Song showed a look of sudden enlightenment and humbly asked for advice: "Then how should I ask? Huihui, I'm really worried about you."
"If you want to say that," Zheng Song was pulled down by her. Wen Hui pressed her cold cheek against his arm. His arm was warm, and he seemed to be in two different worlds from her. He smiled and said, "...you want to ask me if I am comfortable, if I like it, if I am happy, these words that carry positive emotions."
Zheng Song put his knowledge into practice: "Huihui, are you feeling well now?"
Wen Hui paused, shook her head, and said coquettishly, "My stomach hurts a little bit, and it feels cold, like there are ice cubes in it."
Zheng Song couldn't imagine what it felt like to hold ice cubes in his pocket, but he had eyes. Wen Hui's face was pale, her lips were bloodless, and even under the quilt, he could still see that she was shivering slightly. He immediately took off his coat and shirt and put on a brand new light blue cotton pajamas, the same set as Wen Hui's. Then he got into the quilt and held his wife, who was all cold, in his arms.
“Meihui, is this comfortable?”
The mobile phone was a wonderful tool, allowing him to understand unfamiliar things in minutes. The principles, performance, and countermeasures were all clearly and clearly explained. He followed the instructions, brewed some brown sugar and ginger water, and then placed his warm chest and palm against his wife's, sending warmth to her.
Wen Hui's stomach was filled with hot ginger water, which worked both inside and outside. She stretched out like a cat being baked by a fireplace, and a lazy and comfortable feeling permeated her whole body. She hugged the man's arm tightly.
"Comfortable," she smiled, "You're so warm, like a stove."
The monster looked at her and guessed that Zheng Song had never treated her like this before, otherwise she wouldn't have looked so surprised. He felt both bitter and happy. Bitter because Zheng Song married such a good wife like Wen Hui but treated her coldly, happy because this was the first time for him and Wen Hui, not because of Zheng Song's identity, but because of the happiness his actions brought her.
He can do it well.
He is Wen Hui's husband, and Wen Hui's future will be hand in hand with him.
Wen Hui fell asleep mid-sleep. Zheng Song, thinking of lunch, was about to leave when, without a source of warmth, she groaned in her sleep. He quickly stopped, his arrival replacing the two heat packs, which lay at the end of the bed, still radiating heat. Zheng Song didn't use them. Instead, his body, squirming crimson flesh, enveloped Wen Hui within, its special aura lulling her into a sweet dream.
Zheng Song was equally sleepy, but with his wife feeling unwell, he had to shoulder the responsibility of foraging. Following Wen Hui's instructions, he didn't dare do anything else. He made a pot of hot porridge and left it warm. He washed Wen Hui's clothes in the bathroom and hung them out to dry on the balcony. He was a quick learner, smoothing out the wrinkled clothes and drying them in the sun. Wen Hui's underwear received special attention, hanging out in the sun where it would be most sunny.
Zheng Song left the balcony and saw Wen Hui curled up in scarlet flesh and blood. He felt an indescribable joy in his heart. He set the alarm clock, returned to bed, and fell asleep with his wife in his arms.
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