Wen Zhaoye had been thinking about changing his name for a while, but he could clearly sense that since Wen Jiaojiao returned, his desire to completely break free from this family through name change was fading.
He placed the wash water on the stool so she could wash herself, and said ambiguously:
What if I insist on changing it?
Wen Jiaojiao said decisively:
"Then I'll change it too."
Wen Zhaoye brushed his teeth, glancing at her slightly to the side, but didn't take it to heart at all, and said:
"What do you want to call me?"
"Ma Cungen".
Wen Jiaojiao thought for a moment and realized that only the male lead's name could intimidate him. For her own safety, she disregarded the possibility of being laughed at and revealed her true thoughts.
Sure enough, Wen Zhaoye let out a sexy, low-key chuckle:
"Are you changing your name? Or are you just making fun of me? What woman has that name?"
Wen Jiaojiao gently patted the water off her face, trying to help her skin absorb it:
"The main selling point is its uniqueness."
Do you know who you resemble?
This wasn't the first time Wen Zhaoye had seen her do this, but he still wanted to laugh every time. Under her puzzled gaze, his eyes held a barely perceptible hint of doting affection as he said:
"Like Ahua."
Ahua had a fever when she was a child but didn't receive timely treatment, and her mental development is still at a child's stage.
When he gets angry, he slaps himself in the face, sometimes to the point that no one can stop him.
Wen Jiaojiao recalled the way she drooled all over her clothes when she talked. She squeezed out some toothpaste and brushed her teeth, still annoyed, and said:
"We can't continue this conversation. Take me back to my room later."
After Wen Zhaoye finished getting ready, he carried her back into the house. Hearing Xu Cuifen call his name, he turned and went out.
"They've probably eaten. Let me get you some food."
Wen Jiaojiao lay on the bed, looking at the stopped electric fan. She reached out to touch the switch, but her fingertip missed it by just a little bit.
She glanced outside, and seeing no one there, she stopped pretending and got out of bed to move the electric fan and stool a little further.
He shouldn't be able to spot it from such a tiny distance.
Wen Zhaoye stood at the door with a bowl of porridge, watching her get into bed and lie down, then deftly rub the top of her other foot, which had a plaster on it, with a bewildered expression.
After he realized what had happened, he looked at the food he was being served to her and felt insulted.
I took better care of my sow than she does when she's in labor, and this is the result?
They'll stop at nothing to avoid being lazy.
The room was quite long, and the bed was located at the far end against the wall, which Wen Jiaojiao didn't notice at all.
Still worried, she lifted her "injured" foot again, pushed the chair away a little, and muttered:
"So that he won't spot it."
Wen Zhaoye pressed the tip of his tongue against his cheek, took a few steps back, and reminded him:
"Dinner's ready."
Wen Jiaojiao quickly withdrew her feigned injured foot, her gaze fixed on him with a light smile:
"Brother, what kind of food did you make?"
Keep pretending, I'll let you pretend to your heart's content later.
Wen Zhaoye suddenly remembered that seeing her run over while he was taking a shower last night was not a hallucination.
At the time, all my attention was focused on the middle position, and I didn't pay attention to whether it was hopping on one foot or running. Now, the more I think about it, the stranger it seems.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his dark eyes fixed on her with a playful smile, answering every question she asked:
"Porridge."
The red bean porridge was steaming hot, but the bowl was ice-cold, indicating that it had been cooled in cold water.
Wen Jiaojiao took the red bean porridge, took a sip and found it tasteless. A thought crossed her mind:
"Brother, my foot is healing a bit slowly with porridge right now, and it might interfere with my work."
Wen Zhaoye's smile deepened as he glanced at her "injured" foot and nodded, saying:
"That's true, we should buy some pig's trotters, to replenish what we have."
Taking advantage of her injury and determined not to let him hold a grudge, Wen Jiaojiao tentatively spoke:
"If you make dumplings for your feet, and add some meat, won't they help you recover faster after eating them?"
Wen Zhaoye: "..." He really did sit up and start his postpartum confinement.
Seeing that he remained silent, Wen Jiaojiao assumed she had gone too far. After all, it was the busy farming season, and making dumplings was extremely time-consuming. She quickly changed her tone and said:
"Actually, I don't want to eat. I just want my foot to get better soon so I can go back to work. There's so much work to do at home. I can't rely on you all by myself. That would be too hard."
Wen Zhaoye decided to teach her a lesson, to let her know the price of lying, so she wouldn't keep making a fuss about nothing all the time.
He moved back a little, his large hand grasping her slender white ankle, his playful, smiling gaze fixed intently on her.
"That's perfect. I know a bit about bone setting. How about I turn it for you? I guarantee it'll be effective in a second."
Wen Jiaojiao's eyes widened slightly, and she tentatively pulled her foot back slowly.
But then he suddenly tightened his grip on her ankle, pulling her leg straight again.
Her face was stiff, but her heart was filled with tears as she said:
"Brother, the injury isn't serious, I won't die. I have a feeling I'll be able to get out of bed in no more than three days, so I won't trouble you to show off your real skills."
Wen Zhaoye's smile deepened, and a hint of doting affection unconsciously crept onto his handsome face.
He couldn't bear to frighten her any longer, so he chose to play along and gently lowered his foot.
"Get out of bed when you're fully recovered, so you won't keep saying I'm not good to you."
Wen Jiaojiao watched his dejected figure leave, and secretly let out a long breath:
Fortunately, I managed to hold back and didn't panic.
Wen Zhaoye was eating breakfast in the main room when he said to Xu Cuifen:
"Make more food for lunch, and I'll hire a few people to harvest all the wheat in the field."
Xu Cuifen slurped up some porridge while eating dried radish and said with dissatisfaction:
"If you have that money, why don't you give it to me? I'll cut it slowly, and we'll save a whole table of food."
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