Chapter 42
Countless answers flashed through her mind, but she finally just blinked and said, "Food is the most important thing for the people, so a high salary is the answer."
Mo Daoyan handed the manuscript back to her, saying that her answer was humorous, but the examiner would want a second answer, and gave some interview experience. The official answer was to record the truth, speak for the people, and promote social progress. The score was at the passing line. Taking an unconventional approach tested her quick wit, but she had to have specific materials that were unique to her. If she did well, it would be icing on the cake, but if she did not do well, it would be a mistake. My personal suggestion is that she should wait until the results of the preliminary exam come out before considering whether to be "bold and reckless" in the interview.
She reread the revised manuscript. The stubborn problem of voiced and unvoiced consonants had just disappeared, but the ending sound was like a piece of candy in her mouth. She kept getting stuck on "Objective". Mo Daoyan demonstrated it four or five times, deliberately splitting the syllables into three parts to read. She still swallowed the stress when she followed him, and when she read the polyphonic word "content", she jumped to the wrong position between the noun and the verb.
"Is your tongue tied?" When she mispronounced the stress on "content" for the third time, Mo Daoyan pinched her cheek, pressing his thumb against her dimples. "It doesn't seem like it."
She opened her lips slightly, and the breath she exhaled swept across his tiger's mouth: "I'll do it again."
He took the manuscript and placed it between the textbooks: "It's futile to force it. I'll try harder next time. Go and rest first!"
"I still want to try." She suddenly grabbed his wrist as he was about to retract it, stood between his open knees, wrapped her arms around his neck, and captured his slightly raised chin in her sight. As she leaned forward, the unfinished "objective" finally landed accurately, turning into a warm vowel between her lips. "Did I pronounce it correctly this time?"
The smile on her face was almost imperceptible, and her voice was soft and slightly raised when she spoke, like a kitten stretching out its claws to rub against the heart, and occasionally her fingertips would "accidentally" touch his earlobe, bringing waves of tingling. Mo Daoyan was momentarily surprised. Although they had only really had that one time, it was because of this that he realized how indifferent she was to romantic matters. She usually tried to coax him with all her kindness, but she had never even given him a kiss.
Maybe it's more than just indifference, it's more like resentment.
In front of other people in the Mo family, even if she had to compromise and turn her back, she could always take a breather. Besides, they would still give her basic respect. But it was difficult to get along with him. He might not look down on her, but he would never look up to her. As long as he wanted, he could expose her carefully prepared decency at any time and throw a stone into her unbearable place. The same was true in bed. He seemed not to force her, but he would not tolerate any usurpation. He hated her hypocrisy, but was disgusted by the insignificant truth.
In a cage where even existence has become a sin, a person will either be annihilated in silence or explode in silence, but she could not find any of these in her eyes. It seemed that catering to him was just a job that had to be completed. He realized it when she was teaching her English. At those moments, she only regarded him as a tutor who taught her, not a lover.
At this moment, she was rubbing the short hair at the back of his neck, and her whole body fell on him with a bit of deliberate passion. He smelled the lemon scent of bee and flower shampoo in her hair. Although he knew it was a play, a hot joy suddenly surged in his heart. The chair kept leaning back under him, making a creaking sound under the weight.
He smiled and said, "What do you want to do?"
She bit her lip lightly: "What do you think?"
"How should I know?"
"If you don't know, then don't do it?"
"It depends on what you want. If you want a life, I definitely won't give it to you."
"I'm not a murderer, why would I want to take someone's life?" She grabbed half of his wrist and led him back to the edge of the bed. The moment he sat down, she leaned over and pressed down on him. "Do I make Mr. Mo so uneasy?"
As he collapsed onto the sheets, he noticed a fleeting glint in her eyes. Before the chill could spread, he had already gripped the back of her neck and turned over, seizing control. "From this angle, it's like that." The calloused tip of his thumb rubbed hard against the hollow of her collarbone, leaving a pink mark on her porcelain-white skin. "Speaking of which, what do you think a wife could do to make her husband uneasy?"
There were lightning and thunder outside the window, and the sudden thunder blocked the gasps from her throat.
She exhaled and smiled meaningfully: "Does it count now?"
"Not even close."
He habitually ruffled her long hair. The naturally dried strands felt cool and smooth like satin, and holding them in his hands felt like a cooling device. He always loved to use this trick to tease her emotions. Perhaps he considered it fun, but she hated it, just like a predator on the grassland who would fool his prey before tearing it apart, until it was exhausted.
Last time she protested against being a test subject, and now she has become a lamb to be slaughtered.
When his fingertips brushed the corner of her lips, she suddenly bit them fiercely, but he didn't even twitch his eyebrows. Could it be fake that they were connected by their fingers? She let go, looked at the bloody teeth marks on his fingers and said, "Doesn't it hurt?"
"It's nothing compared to what you're going to go through later." Mo Daoyan leaned over her on his elbows, fiddling with the buttons on her denim shirt. "Why do you want to be a reporter? It's not a test question."
Her previous answer obviously did not convince him.
The coconut buckle retreated step by step between his fingers. When all the buttons slipped out of the buttonholes, she turned and grabbed the pillow into her arms, blocking the sudden exposure of her spring light. "My adoptive mother was an accountant at the Economic Management Station. She burned to death in their home five years ago. The arsonist was the deputy station chief. While doing the accounts, she found evidence of corruption and bribery. He first bribed her, but when that didn't work, he tried to silence her. When he was executed, he slandered her in court... He said my widowed adoptive mother was lonely and intolerable, and she seduced him, but couldn't get the love she wanted, so she died with him. His family even hired reporters to speak up for him, painting the story in a vivid way. For a time, no one sympathized with the woman who had lost her life at the age of 35. They only cared about attacking the adulterer who was punished for his affair. Words can kill, but they can also save. Every carrot has its place, and I'll fill one. There will be one less liar in the world."
This was the abridged version she told Mo Daoyan, omitting the parts about her brother. When her adoptive mother got the evidence, she didn't immediately call the police or choose to play it safe. Instead, she had a thought she shouldn't have. After her adoptive father's death, the family's income plummeted. Her brother was tormented by a brain tumor and banged his head against the wall. Her adoptive mother locked herself in her room, clutching a medical bill as thick as a book and the evidence. She wandered around for three days and nights, ultimately not going to the police station but knocking on the door of the embezzler's home. But her adoptive mother wasn't foolish after all. She knew that those who dared to trample on the law were the least trustworthy. So she sewed the key evidence into her brother's medicine bag, which became Tong Yufei's fatal blow in bringing him down.
This wrong decision cost the adoptive mother a heavy price, and it haunted her short life like a thorn in her flesh. Her father perished in the fire, a hero who sacrificed for the collective, and her mother also died in the flames. To this day, she is still referred to by neighbors as "the woman who wanted to blackmail the leader." Later, the truth came to light, and the newspapers never published a correction. The adoptive mother made this one big mistake in her life, and she has been scolded for several lifetimes.
But someone shed a glimmer of light in her gloomy world. Cheng Yuan, then a young reporter, published a report in the corner of the Xicheng Daily titled "The Imperfect Victim." The short, sharp article, yet each word was brilliant, reviewed the story and provided a brief biography of her adoptive mother. It concluded with the following words: "The grayness of human nature always wanders beyond the moral standard, yet we are always overly critical of the victims."
She chattered like a gossipy old woman, and even managed to silence Mo Daoyan. After a while, he moved the pillow where she had left deep marks and hugged her, along with the denim shirt she had taken off. "You said Ms. Meng helped you before, but that's it? How could she, a cultural cadre, help you?"
"My mother-in-law is a living bodhisattva. When the National Hope Project was just established last year and people were still waiting and watching, she took the lead in fundraising. I was struggling that year, and she readily helped me out, solving my urgent need."
"Your adoptive parents passed away, and it's a huge blow to you, but you still have other relatives. Your father and sister don't care about you?"
"My relationship with my brother wasn't good, and I often went to support my family. The more I went, the less we felt connected."
"No wonder you're always lukewarm towards them."
"It's all over."
She raised her head and kissed his protruding Adam's apple, her calves wrapped around his waist like vines, her fingers drew circles on his ears, and her nose rubbed the unhealed bruise on his shoulder where she left her teeth marks. He then clamped her hand and pressed her firmly under him. The wind and rain were raging outside the window, and his lips brushed every line of her body, setting off another secret storm.
The summer thunderstorms came and went, came and went, like naughty children playing and jumping in front of the window, while the rain brought by Mo Daoyan turned into an eternal night. The boundary between reality and dreams was swollen by the rain. In Tong Yufei's cloudy vision, she seemed to see white light like a knife slashing at her again and again. She remembered the CT report she had read in the morning. The shadow of the tumor in her brother's brain was also such a chaotic picture of black and white.
When the rain stopped, he would leave her room as usual. By then, she might not have the courage to speak, so her hands clung to his shoulders as if drowning. The words she had originally wanted to end quickly turned into a practical plea: "Mo Daoyan, I need money."
He paused for a moment and said, "Don't you think it's weird to talk about money at this time?"
"I need money."
"In the passbook..."
"not enough."
Unless she also wants to buy a house, the money in her passbook is enough to cover most situations, but he didn't ask any more questions. "Once the project is completed, there will be a bonus, but if you need it urgently, I'll go to the company and get an advance in the next two days."
She wanted to thank him, to say she would pay him back, but debts are hard to come by, and how long would it take to pay back such a large sum? He probably wouldn't believe it, thinking she was just trying to build a good reputation, wanting money, but unwilling to give up her noble dignity. Since it was natural for a wife to spend her husband's money, she should turn her gratitude into tender affection. So she hugged his shoulders tightly and kissed his face tremblingly, with a passion that seemed to want to melt them into one, even if it meant going to hell. Mo Daoyan felt a strange feeling in his heart, but it couldn't resist the honesty that surged in his blood. His body had already responded before his mind, and with a big hand, he grabbed her waist, which was dangling precariously on the edge of the bed, and they were swept into a new round of tides.
The rain continued until dawn in the east.
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