Chapter 48 Life's Journey
After closing the door, Nanjiu noticed that Song Ting was wearing a singlet. The wound on his right arm, winding from bottom to top, was covered with gauze. He looked seriously injured. Nanjiu raised his hand to take a closer look, but then pulled it back and asked, "Are you injured anywhere else?"
"Concussion." Song Ting turned around, took out the induction cooker and placed it on the table.
Nanjiu's face was serious: "Don't you need to be hospitalized for a concussion?"
"There's no brain damage."
Nanjiu stood aside, observing him for a moment with a frown on her face. After confirming he was alright, she turned back to wash up. She tied her loose hair back and was about to return when she caught a glimpse of her clothes hanging in the shower, along with her underwear. She paused, tugging at the hem of her clothes, belatedly realizing she was in a vacuum.
She walked out but then walked back, went into the shower room and touched her underwear, which was still wet.
Song Ting's urging voice came from outside: "Are you ready? The noodles are clumping."
Nan Jiubie walked to the table awkwardly, tugged at his T-shirt again and again, and sat down awkwardly.
Song Ting glanced at her and said, "This is really not your clothes. The collar is even deformed."
He was helping her wash the clothes, so he knew she had nothing inside. He even said this deliberately, clearly to choke her.
Nanjiu sneered, "Hehe," and took the bowl of soup.
Song Ting added an egg to her noodle soup. Nan Jiu picked up the bowl and drank a sip of the hot soup. After putting it down, she asked, "How long has it been raining?"
"Five hours."
"Is the picking work finished?"
"Um."
"Where are the people from Heishiwa Village?"
“They were all sent back.”
"Have you been paid?"
"It's done."
"Did you check the quality before checking out? You know the people in their village."
A playful smile appeared on the corner of his mouth: "Do you really think of yourself as your sister-in-law?"
Nan Jiu pursed his lips, stopped talking, and lowered his head to eat noodles.
Her cell phone was on the table. She picked it up and glanced at it. There were eight missed calls, three of which were from Lin Songyao.
She raised her eyes and glanced at Song Ting. He was sitting opposite her, his eyes fixed on her face.
Nanjiu turned her phone off and picked up her bowl of soup. She hadn't had a proper meal in the past few days. Either she'd been called away, something unexpected had happened, or she'd been calculating her progress while eating, never really paying attention. She'd just scrambled through a few bites each day to ensure she'd have enough food.
It was not until Song Ting returned safely and the heavy rain fell that she finally felt relieved.
Hunger swept over her. This bowl of noodle soup cooked in an induction cooker had no complicated ingredients, but she drank up even the soup base.
After eating, she sighed deeply, releasing all the stress of the past few days.
"Why did you come here?" Under the warm light, he looked into her eyes and asked the same question she asked before going to bed.
The difference is that the tone has changed from questioning to a deeper exploration.
Nan Jiu sat on the edge of the bed, his hands behind his back, his posture relaxed: "My grandfather called me and said he couldn't contact you. Something happened in the tea mountain again. I was afraid he would be worried, so I came to check on him first."
"Just because of your grandfather?"
The rain was still pouring outside the window, but the house was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.
A long silence stretched between the two of them, as if an invisible string was stretched taut in the air, vibrating with a buzzing sound that seemed ready to break at any moment.
She had asked him the same question many years ago in the tea mountains.
Back then, he was unable to answer due to his status, and now, she was equally unable to answer due to her current situation.
His gaze lingered on her face, not missing the slightest change in her expression: "Does he know you're coming here?"
"Know."
"Didn't I quarrel with you last time I went back?"
"There was a quarrel."
"If he can tolerate this, it means he truly loves me, or he doesn't love me at all. Which one is he?"
Nanjiu's expression became subtle, and he frowned slightly: "I'll go back and ask."
Song Ting's eyes gradually darkened. Nan Jiu also lowered his gaze, and for a moment they stared at each other in silence.
The phone rang. It wasn't Nanjiu's, but a spare one Song Ting had picked up. He stood up, answered the call, said a few words, and put on his coat.
Nan Jiu asked him, "Why are you going out at this time?"
"Go to the factory."
Nanjiu stood up: "I'll go with you."
Song Ting buttoned up his coat and looked her over from bottom to top: "Are you going like this?"
Nanjiu tugged at the hem of his shirt: "Can you drive?"
"Jiang Qing, come with me." Song Ting picked up the black umbrella from the door and walked into the heavy rain.
After Song Ting left, Nan Jiu returned a few work calls, sorted out some of the things that had piled up over the past few days, and then made several more phone calls for several dozen minutes. After hanging up, she held her phone in front of her and dialed Lin Songyao's number.
The sound of rain outside was hitting the window sharply. She stared at the number, her thumb hovering on the redial button, but her peripheral vision caught sight of the bag on the chair.
Nanjiu put down his phone and picked up the hospital bag. Inside was some gauze and topical medication, a diagnosis report, X-rays taken during Song Ting's hospitalization, and a traffic accident report.
Nan Jiu sat down, frowning, and read through the materials one by one. The matter of returning the call was put on hold.
Putting down the receipts, Nanjiu glanced at the hair dryer on the table. There was a socket at the shower door, so she plugged in the hair dryer and squatted in the shower to dry her clothes.
The humidity in the mountains was already high, and with the rain still falling outside, the clothes took a long time to dry. Nanjiu held the hairdryer for dozens of minutes, but the clothes still felt damp. Her arms were so sore from holding it, she simply turned it off and huddled in the shower to cool down.
The door was opened and the lights were on, but there was no sign of Nanjiu.
Song Ting's heart sank, and he subconsciously called out, "Xiao Jiu!"
Before Nan Jiu could stand up, Song Ting strode in, his footsteps stopping abruptly at the shower door, his rapid breath caught in his throat.
Nan Jiu raised his eyes and looked at his anxious expression, and his heart skipped a beat.
She stood up and picked up her clothes: "Do you want to take a shower?" She passed by him and gave up the shower room.
The once simple curtain has become a door, with the sound of water overflowing from inside and the whirring of a hair dryer outside.
The shower door opened, and Song Ting emerged, bathed in warm, humid steam. He wiped the water droplets from his hair with a dark gray towel, his gaze fixed on the hair dryer in Nan Jiu's hands. Once her clothes were dry, she would leave. Their fate had also dried to a climax.
Song Ting threw away the towel, walked over and snatched the hair dryer from her hand, and unplugged it.
Nan Jiu glanced at him and there was a brief stalemate. She didn't argue with him, but stood up and hung the clothes up again.
When he turned around, Nan Jiu glanced at his right arm: "The gauze is wet, change it."
She took out new gauze from the bag and found a pair of scissors.
In the dim light, his right arm rested on the edge of the table. Nan Jiu bent over, gently cutting the gauze. A few strands of hair slipped from behind her ear, swaying gently with her movements.
When all the gauze was removed and she saw the hideous wound, she froze in her tracks.
"What if I don't come back this time?" He caught her gaze.
Nan Jiu subconsciously pursed his lips, and a thin layer of mist covered his eyes.
His eyes were fixed on her furrowed brows: "Then why do you want to get married?"
She lowered her head, took the clean gauze, absorbed the moisture around the wound, and wrapped it around him. She stood up and said to him, "You are still injured. Rest well first. I will dry your clothes and go to Zhenmin's place."
Song Ting lowered his head, his wet hair falling across his forehead, blocking out all light. Drops of water slid down the ends of his hair, one drop, two drops, hitting the ground. The air around him solidified, frozen by the air pressure emanating from his body.
Nan Jiu had just picked up the hair dryer when Song Ting grabbed her wrist and grabbed it. He grabbed her waist and threw her onto the bed. His tall figure then loomed over her, wrapping his arms around her. "Tell me, why did you get married? If you can't figure it out, then don't go anywhere. Stay here and figure it out."
His scorching gaze nearly burned through her. She pushed away his arm, which lay across her body, but it remained motionless, like iron. Instead, it pressed down, completely entrapping her with its scorching body. He leaned down, his nose brushing against hers affectionately, their breaths mingling in a heart-wrenching, doting embrace. But beneath that doting, a possessive desire on the verge of losing control surged.
"After you left last time, I made plans. From now on, when you get married and have children, we'll go our separate ways. If you ever come back to see your grandfather out of respect for our relationship, I'll avoid you and never meet you.
"During the holidays, if you Nan family members are willing to come back to show your filial piety, I'm happy for the old man. If you don't have time to come back, I will take care of the old man. Even if the day comes that he can no longer move, you won't have to get involved.
"After the old man passes away, if you want this teahouse, you can take it back. If you don't want it, I will convert it into cash and you can divide it up as you wish. I will keep the teahouse open..."
His eyes were filled with a desperate search, like a prisoner trapped in a desperate situation, desperately grasping at the only light. His eyes were red and his voice was hoarse: "I have already made this plan. Tell me... why did you come here again?"
This was the third time he asked her this question, and this time, the criticism wasn't directed at her, but rather outright self-judgment.
Nan Jiu looked at his red eyes, and the hand on his chest began to lose its balance, and his eye circles turned red.
His gaze fell on her pale face, his fingertips greedily caressing her cheek. If she left, there would probably never be another woman in his life who would go to such lengths for him. As the mountains of tea farmers, the baskets of fresh leaves piled high, the densely packed notes on his notebooks burned his eyes, a thought quickly ignited like a raging fire: he would never let her go again.
What did reality, worldly rules, matter? He had survived a near-death experience, and he'd saved his life. He'd given her a choice, and if she'd hesitated even a moment, he'd have let her go. But she came back, taking a desperate gamble and reclaiming this land for him.
Then, he wouldn't give up her body, her heart, even her untamable soul. Life was short, how could there be any room for generosity or decency? He tore off all pretense, letting his darkest desires burst forth. Even if it meant using the most despicable means, he would claim her...completely for himself.
He leaned over and kissed her hard. Every deep entanglement was a silent roar, venting strong emotions, tearing each other's souls apart and reassembling them.
Nan Jiu shuddered and tried to retreat, but he trapped her in his arms, unable to move an inch. His kiss was like a plunder, sweeping away every breath she took, softening her into an accomplice.
It was not until her skirt was lifted up and he pressed against the overflowing wetness that she finally broke free from her confusion and raised her hand to push him away.
Song Ting gasped in pain, his right arm falling limply. Nan Jiu hastily retracted his hand, his gaze fixed anxiously on his wound. Just as she let down her guard, he knocked on her softest door.
Nanjiu straightened her body, clutching the bed sheet tightly, her swaying gaze intertwined into a tide, wave after wave quickly drowning her.
On the one hand, she was worried that the wound on his arm would open, so she didn't dare to act rashly; on the other hand, she was pushed higher and higher by the strong wind, until she was on the edge of the cliff.
"Do you really want to get married?" His breath lingered hotly on her neck, like the breath of a trapped animal. She drifted between lucidity and drowning, each attempt to break free only leading to a deeper imprisonment.
When she didn't answer him, he intensified his efforts to extract answers from her. Their sweat-soaked skin stuck together stickily, and he couldn't tell whether it was his burning heat or her trembling.
The cell phone on the table suddenly rang, and three words flashed on the screen - Lin Songyao.
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