Chapter 18 Sophomore Year
The room looked like it had been robbed; all the closet drawers were open. Song Ting's expression was serious as he asked her, "What happened?"
"There seems to be a mouse in the room." Nan Jiu's nose was sweating and he was breathing slightly.
Song Ting's expression grew serious upon hearing this. Rodent infestation has always been a problem for tea farmers. Rodents not only gnaw on the tender tea buds but also burrow into the soil, damaging the tea plant's roots. To ensure tea quality, Song Ting had devoted considerable effort to combating the rodent infestation in the early years.
He immediately closed the door, sealed off all possible places, and checked them one by one.
Nan Jiu, fearing a mouse might suddenly dart out while Song Ting searched, stood on the bed, staring at him nervously. "You've got to catch this! I once had a classmate who lived on the first floor. Unbeknownst to him, mice had infested his house. While he was sleeping, the mice gnawed off the flesh on his toes..."
At the time, the boy had even taken off his shoes in class and held out his toes for them to see. Nan Jiu still can't forget that disgusting scene. The classmates asked him why he hadn't woken up after being bitten so badly. He said not only had he not woken up, but his entire family had been bitten as well, and none of them had woken up.
From then on, this cute little mouse left a deep psychological shadow on Nanjiu.
When Nanjiu was a child, every time she saw a mouse, the adults would think she was making a fuss. Mice were afraid of people and posed no threat. If a mouse truly hid somewhere untraceable, the adults would simply give up looking for it, waiting for it to emerge on its own before swatting it to death. This long process tormented Nanjiu's young heart.
Song Ting bent down, examining and rearranging the things she had messed up. Thankfully, Song Ting didn't think she was making a fuss, and with a few soothing words, he left. He even poked his head under the bed, shoving a broom in, searching inch by inch. An invisible, yet profound, sense of security quietly spread, easing Nan Jiu's tense nerves from the night.
When Song Ting poked his head out from under the bed, he held a tail in his hand and stretched it out to Nan Jiu: "Is this a rat?"
Nan Jiu didn't even see what it was before she saw a twisted object swaying in front of her. She was so startled that she stepped back and hit her head against the wall.
Song Ting hissed and took the thing away: "It's a lizard. It's not poisonous and won't bite."
After saying that, he walked out of the room. When he came back in, Nan Jiu stared at his hands. The lizard was gone. Song Ting saw her sitting stupidly on the bed, her face pale, and told her, "It's gone."
"You stepped on it to death?"
"It's a beneficial insect that eats mosquitoes. Let it go." As he spoke, Song Ting saw that she was still wearing the clothes she wore during the day and asked, "Didn't you take a shower?"
"No, there's a little bit of exposure under the door panel. Who knows what might crawl in there?"
Song Ting sneered: "What could it be?"
"A four-legged lizard!" Nan Jiu was still frightened when he thought about it. "I've never seen such a big four-legged lizard. Is it an African monitor lizard?"
Listening to her exaggerated statement, the corners of Song Ting's eyes were softened by the light: "Are you still washing now?"
"Wash." Nan Jiu climbed out of bed, put on his shoes, picked up his unchanged pajamas, and told Song Ting, "You can leave after I finish washing."
Just after turning the dark corner, Nan Jiu turned back and said to Song Ting who was standing outside the door: "Aren't you coming over?"
Song Ting hesitated for a few seconds and walked over.
The sound of footsteps, neither too far nor too close, dispelled the unknown fear in the dark night. When Song Ting was still four or five meters away from the shower room, he stopped. Nan Jiu opened the shower door and took off his clothes. After a while, the sound of water could be heard from inside.
The door panels that were originally installed weren't fully enclosed; there was a gap between the floor and the door panels to allow water to flow out from underneath. The shower room didn't have a fan, which was to allow for natural ventilation and avoid the air circulation problems associated with showering in a closed environment. Since no one else lived in the warehouse, Song Ting, a grown man, didn't have to worry about anyone peeking at him, and he never considered the possibility of a woman coming over.
On a mountain night, the sound of running water is especially clear. Song Ting pulled out his phone and checked the real-time weather forecast again, thinking about tomorrow's plans, but his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the dripping water.
Nan Jiu didn't hear any movement outside the door. He turned off the water and asked while washing his hair, "Are you still there?"
"Here." Song Ting turned his back to the shower room and looked at the tea mountain. It was late at night, and the tea mountain lay quietly in the night.
Nanjiu rubbed his hair into a foam and put the strands on top of his head: "Let me ask you a question."
"You say." His voice floated above the night, like a broad palm holding up the turbulent night.
The water was turned on again, and foam rushed out of the door panel along the water flow, and a faint fragrance blended into the air.
"Why did you always give in to me every time I came here before?" Nan Jiu's voice spread outside the door panel along with the water.
"I thought you only remembered that I didn't let you go to the internet cafe."
Nanjiu raised the corner of his lip. "I haven't lost my memory. You gave me the fan in the attic, and between the bed and the air conditioner, you chose to buy me the bed first. I sneaked snacks, but you didn't blame me, and even put two extra pieces in there to make up the number. I like to eat duck heads, and every time I come back, you line up to buy them. I get angry with you, scold you, and go against you, but you don't care... Why are all these things? Don't tell me you think of yourself as your uncle. I wasn't very popular when I was a child, I know."
The wind blew through the tea bushes, rubbing their leaves against each other. Moonlight fell sparingly on his forehead, and he stood there in the night, unblinking, like a fir tree.
"It's useless for you to protect her. She won't say a good word about you." Grandpa Nan once said.
Nan Jiu never said a good word to him, but she kept it in her heart, and it slowly fermented into mellow wine over the years.
"Your grandfather helped me when I was in the most difficult time. You are his family."
Nanjiu turned off the water, and his voice suddenly became clear: "What about the computer? Did your grandfather buy it for me? I want to hear the truth."
After a moment of silence, Song Ting's voice slowly spread through the door: "I can see my childhood self in you."
So he wasn't afraid of the thorns that pierced her skin, her bones, and the layers of scars that formed deep within her indifferent eyes. As a teenager, he, like her, had presented himself as a stubborn person, sharpening himself to a sharp edge, colliding with everything around him. Until those shards pierced his flesh, the pain so severe that he could no longer feel it.
He hoped that she could study hard, not go astray, get into college, and have a smooth career in the future, instead of being stuck in an alley with no way back like him.
There was no movement behind him for a long moment, and Song Ting turned around. The slender ankle was shrouded in mist, the arch of the foot slightly tense, and water droplets slid down the smooth curve of the calf. The air around him became sticky, clinging to his skin, and the wet feeling seeped into his body.
The door swung open with a whoosh, and before Song Ting could look away, Nan Jiu's misty eyes remained fixed on his, a brief, lingering moment. He finally broke the silence, turned, and walked toward the front of the house. "Go to bed early, I'm going home."
"Wait a moment."
Song Ting stopped walking, the thick night enveloped him. He turned his head, and his eyes looked even deeper under his raised brows.
"Can I work with you tomorrow?" Nanjiu asked.
"You can't bear that hardship."
Her eyes slowly swept across his eyebrows, her gaze as light as a feather, and an almost invisible arc appeared at the end of her eyes: "If it was Nan Qiaoyu who came, would you let him stay in the house?"
Song Ting remained silent for a few seconds. Nan Jiu raised his eyebrows slightly, "Uncle Song, you're treating us differently. Why? There's a rule on this mountain that women can't work? Then why can Zhen Min?"
"Does your head still hurt?" he asked suddenly.
Nan Jiu didn't react for a moment. After two seconds of silence, he remembered that he had hit his head against the wall.
"It doesn't hurt anymore." she replied.
"I'll pick you up at eight o'clock tomorrow morning." Song Ting said this, retracted his gaze and turned to leave.
In the second half of the night, Nanjiu finally slept soundly, without dreaming or waking up, and slept until dawn. Dahuang's cry woke her up, and there was a gentle knock on the door.
Nanjiu thought it was eight o'clock, so he hurriedly got up and opened the door. Zhenmin stood at the door holding a pot and said to Nanjiu, "Are you still awake? I'll bring you breakfast."
As she spoke, she handed the pot to Nanjiu, who took it and thanked her.
"Are you going to do the laundry?" Zhenmin asked Nanjiu. Her eyes were large, like the warm water of a spring stream, filled with a gentle glow.
Nan Jiu thought of the dirty clothes she had changed out of after taking a shower last night and asked her, "Where are we going to wash them?"
"I'll take you there after you finish eating." She took two steps back. "I'll be waiting for you in the warehouse next door. Take your time eating. Don't rush."
Nan Jiu wanted to ask her to come in and sit down, but Zhen Min had already walked away.
There was a cement sink at the entrance, but the water pressure was weak. It was fine for washing my face and brushing my teeth, but washing clothes was a bit of a struggle. Nanjiu finished washing up and opened the pot. Inside was steaming steamed buns and a bowl of dumpling soup.
She checked the time; it wasn't even seven yet. She quickly finished her steamed bun. After finishing, Nanjiu found a blue basin, placed the dirty clothes in it, and went out to look for Zhenmin.
The place to wash clothes wasn't far away, but you had to walk through a row of tea trees and around to the other side of the village. There was a clear stream hidden in the woods, with a few large, clean, smooth stones beside the stream, specially used for washing clothes.
Zhenmin told her: "Wash small clothes at home, and if you have a lot of clothes, wash them here for convenience."
Nanjiu nodded, and followed her example, finding a big stone, pouring out the clothes, and scrubbing them one by one.
Zhenmin brought a basket of clothes, but she was very efficient. By the time Nanjiu finished washing one piece, she had already washed several.
"Do you live in the village?" Nanjiu asked.
"My mother's home is in the village." Zhenmin lowered her eyebrows.
Nanjiu heard the hidden meaning in her words: "Are you married?"
Zhenmin's lips were straight, her hair covering her face: "I've been married."
Just two words told her experience, and Nanjiu didn't ask any more questions.
Zhenmin pulled a pair of khaki men's trousers from the washing rack and scrubbed them. Nanjiu glanced at them, his gaze pausing. Those trousers belonged to Song Ting, worn yesterday, and now they were in Zhenmin's hands. Zhenmin patiently rubbed the muddy spots on the hems, washing them with meticulous attention.
"Are you living outside alone now?" Nan Jiu withdrew his gaze unnoticeably and brought up the previous topic again.
"I live in the separate room behind Aunt Qin's house. Brother Song helped me talk to Aunt Qin and Uncle Eight."
Nanjiu's eyelashes fluttered slightly. Zhenmin wrung out his pants and took out the short-sleeved shirt Song Ting had worn yesterday.
Nan Jiu threw the washed clothes into the basin, a hint of intriguing smile crossed his lips: "You are still helping him wash clothes?"
Zhenmin's fingers brushed the hem of her clothes, the wind from the stream stirring ripples in her eyes: "These little things are nothing."
Zhenmin looked up and saw Nanjiu's scrutinizing gaze lingering on her face. She simply told her, "My husband beat me before, and I ran back to the village. My parents were afraid my in-laws would make trouble, so they wanted to send me back. It was only because Brother Song intervened that I was able to stay."
During their intermittent conversations, Nanjiu learned that Zhenmin had married at the age of 20. Her husband's family lived in the next village, and their in-laws had given her a sum of money to marry her. Zhenmin had a younger brother, and her parents planned to use the betrothal money to help him build a house and marry a wife. After the marriage, Zhenmin was brutally beaten by her husband on a regular basis. Her in-laws not only refused to speak up for her, but also frequently mocked her as a hen that lays no eggs.
That time, Zhenmin ran back to the mountains with a bruised face and nose, intending to seek shelter from her parents. Unexpectedly, her parents borrowed an electric car to send her back to her husband's house overnight.
Zhenmin's heart-wrenching cries echoed from the village to the mountains. No one spoke up for her. The villagers knew that if she wanted to stay, she would have to return the betrothal money. As families with children, the villagers only considered Zhenmin's parents' difficulties from their perspective.
Until Zhenmin's desperate cry alarmed Song Ting who was discussing something at Uncle Eight's house.
Nan Jiu wasn't surprised that Song Ting would help Zhen Min. His mother had died from domestic violence, and if he had witnessed such a thing, he would definitely not tolerate it.
As Zhenmin recounted these past events to Nanjiu, every mention of Song Ting was tinged with undercurrents of affection. As a fellow woman, Nanjiu could sense Zhenmin's feelings for Song Ting: gratitude, dependence, and perhaps a deep, long-standing love.
On the way back, Nanjiu walked behind Zhenmin. Zhenmin's curvaceous figure flickered in her sight, and Nanjiu studied her silently. Zhenmin wasn't thin, but rather rounded. Her voluptuous figure was the kind that could arouse a man's desire. Her swaying hips and simple appearance as she walked exuded the allure unique to young rural women.
Nan Jiu suddenly remembered asking Song Ting where he slept last night. He said he had a place to sleep. This morning, his clothes were in Zhen Min's hands, so it was obvious where he had gone.
Nan Jiu withdrew his gaze and stepped on the fallen dead leaves with the soles of his shoes. The leaves broke into pieces and were crushed into the soil.
Song Ting, a mature man in his thirties, wouldn't be uncommon to have a steady girlfriend, even if he didn't have a girlfriend. He frequently visited the tea farm. Zhenmin was gentle, hardworking, and, most importantly, possibly completely devoted to him. His lingering in her embrace was simply consensual. From the moment he saw Zhenmin, Nan Jiu should have guessed that her gaze on Song Ting was not innocent.
After walking a short distance back, Nanjiu had already imagined a rural idol drama with a tragic love story mixed with erotic plot.
At the end of the tea ridge, Nanjiu separated from Zhenmin, and she walked back to the warehouse alone. Song Ting was already waiting at the door. He wore a dark-colored T-shirt, neatly tucked into his black overalls. He wore a dark gray baseball cap to protect his head from the sun, his nose tucked under the brim, revealing his sharp jawline. When Nanjiu approached, he raised the brim of his hat and glanced at her with those cool, cold eyes: "Have you eaten?"
"Yeah." Nan Jiu walked past him as if he didn't see him, hung the clothes on the clothesline in front of the house, and went into the house to put on sun protection clothes.
On the way to the low-lying area, Nan Jiu fell behind by a long way and had a distance from Song Ting.
Song Ting had no choice but to stop and turn around to wait for her. Seeing that she was in a bad mood, he asked, "Didn't you sleep well last night?"
"Very good." Nanjiu quickened his pace, walked in front of him, and distanced himself from him again.
Song Ting thought she was just in a bad mood after waking up, so he didn't ask any more questions.
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The author has something to say: Restoring daytime is better~
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