0073 Inferior Winter (3)
It's already December, the dead of winter.
Zhao Mei looked out the window; there were only a few pine trees in the neighborhood, and not a soul in sight. She closed the window even tighter.
Not far from the living room, steam was bubbling up from the clay pot.
Lingling was dressed in her pajamas, her hair styled in a low bun, with wisps of hair falling across her cheeks. She was busy making soup, chicken broth simmering with spinach and glass noodles. Someone who was usually too lazy to cook at home was saying she was craving this.
Zhao Mei suggested waiting for He Yundong to buy the fish so her dad could make her fish soup, which would be even more delicious. She instinctively retorted, "He's injured and can't eat seafood..." Then she realized she'd let something slip, and her small face flushed pink. She felt her mother was deliberately leading her astray, and she was both angry with her mother and angry with herself for being so clumsy with her tongue...
My heart belongs to him.
That night, as she made his bed, all she could think about was how he would be all alone if he felt unwell during the night, with no one to help him. The thought of his pale face during the meal made her heart ache. For a fleeting moment, she had the audacious idea of simply sleeping there. But how could she be as "outrageous" as Songhan Residence? Her parents would kick her out if they didn't kick him out.
Just before she was leaving, he suddenly pulled her into his arms. His urgent movements and familiar scent made her tremble violently, her heart soaring for a moment before settling down peacefully.
Her eyes welled up with tears, and where he couldn't see, she wept against his heart.
There, a powerful surge of energy.
Only then did I dare to sigh.
That's good, he's still alive.
She still dares not recall the horror of that day, but in places where he cannot see, she smells the blood in the closed carriage again and again. She vomits in Songhan Residence, her vomit mixed with tears.
Now, the unbearable stench of blood was finally dispelled by the familiar pine scent on his body. Just as he was about to let go, she inexplicably wrapped her arms around his waist.
He froze, afraid to breathe.
She should have talked to him long ago. There were so many things to talk about, from the trouble seven years ago to Guan Kai's words... Only he could answer the questions about Brother Ayan that had troubled her for so long.
But at this moment, she had absolutely no desire to talk to him about these things. She realized with a start that she didn't want anyone, not even her brother Shenyan, to deprive her of this precious time with him.
Dry, cold, and his scent intoxicated her.
In Song Hanju's study, there was a red paper marriage certificate, printed in gold lettering—that was what she wanted to ask him.
She tried to speak, but felt his strength.
Her eyes were still misty, and she quickly looked away when she saw his indifferent gaze.
It felt like being pulled back to reality from heaven.
The dreamlike tenderness instantly turned into embarrassment and awkwardness.
"I...I'm leaving now."
Her retreating figure suggested she was fleeing; she didn't want to know if there was still disgust in his cold eyes, so she didn't see his pale lips or his crippled body that needed to lean against the wall to keep from falling. Nor did she see the intense, unbearable pain that suddenly welled up in those beautiful eyes.
She closed the door and stood still, her mind calming down, and she regretted not giving him more advice.
She wanted to tell him that she was right next door.
The neighboring house is right there when he opens the door.
The door was opened, and the person Zhao Mei had tried calling three or four times without success stood at the door, radiating a chilling aura.
Zhao Mei took He Yundong's clothes and complained, "You can spend a whole day just browsing the morning market?"
The door was open, and He Yundong walked in. Zhao Mei looked out, and Lingling also ran out when she heard the noise.
"Old He, where's Yi Xu?" Zhao Mei asked.
He Yundong coughed softly, "Let's go back."
Zhao Mei asked in confusion, "You went back? Goed back where?"
Before He Yundong could speak, He Lingling asked, "Dad, did he go back to B City?"
The daughter's face lacked its usual radiance, instead carrying an unusual coldness.
Zhao Mei instinctively put her arm around her daughter's shoulder.
"Hmm," He Yundong responded softly, without looking up.
He Lingling took off her apron and calmly said, "Mom and Dad, I want to go back to B City." In reality, she was anything but calm.
After saying this seemingly joking thing, she was about to run back to her room to pack her luggage when He Yundong spoke coldly behind her.
"stop!"
He Lingling stands still.
"What nonsense are you talking about? You want to chase after them?"
She was more afraid of the serious and taciturn He Yundong since she was a child. Although her father rarely got angry with her, he would never tolerate her if she made a mistake.
She knew she had acted too rashly, but she couldn't allow him to have any more accidents.
She explained to He Yundong, "Dad, he's injured and can't move around too much. I'll come back to see you and Mom as soon as possible..."
“He said you two were never together.” He Yundong’s words hit her like a hammer blow, leaving her mind blank.
What did he say to his father?
My heart was overflowing with despair and bitterness.
“He Yundong!” Zhao Mei stood in front of him, blocking her husband’s view. Even though Lingling had her back to them, she still felt that her daughter was being scrutinized and reprimanded by her husband.
That petite, delicate yet strong figure—her daughter. She didn't want her to suffer any harm.
But her husband, contrary to his usual behavior, stabbed her in the heart with every word.
"Why are you rushing off to embarrass yourself?" The last few words had to be spoken in a higher pitch to mask the tremor.
He saw his daughter raise her arm; she must be wiping away tears, she must have cried a lot.
His beloved daughter, quietly and with her back straight, walked back to her room.
He had just seen off someone whose back was almost identical to his own.
He had watched the boy, whose real name was Wanqi Fuze, grow from a boy into an adult.
The boy who once firmly declared, "I want to marry Lingling, I will only marry Lingling," has repeatedly asked him to help conceal his illness.
"You'll make Lingling sad if you do this," he said in a deep voice.
He said, "Uncle, I will do everything I can to make it up to Lingling for the things I did that hurt her."
"Just tell Lingling... I never wanted to marry her."
Will she be sad? The answer is so clear.
Had he ever considered telling her about his illness? Never. He seemed to resist using it to keep her; he had truly experienced the pain of losing a loved one, the agony of life and death. Even if she wouldn't give him even the slightest bit…
P.S.: UUs, what should we name our son and daughter's babies?! I'm racking my brains trying to think of names, sob sob~
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