Chapter 79
The end of the year is approaching, and colorful lanterns are hung in the streets again. The end-of-year ceremonies are performed year after year, just as the saying goes, "The flowers are the same year after year, but the people are different year after year." This year, grandma and brother are missing, as is Tong Yufei. Mo Daoyan will also fly to Germany on the 28th of the twelfth lunar month, and his parents will go to Changsha to spend the New Year with grandma. For the first time, the old house will have no one to stay on New Year's Eve.
When he left home at a young age, he was like a fledgling that had just left the nest, thinking that the whole sky belonged to him and that he had endless energy. But now he was like a kite flying high in the sky. No matter how far he flew, there was always a string pulling at him. But when he looked back, the person who was supposed to hold the string was nowhere to be seen.
Tong Yufei always refused to move back in and was as distant to him as usual. Fortunately, they lived close and had more opportunities to meet. Whenever he had time, he would accompany Ye Yimo fishing, occasionally teach him to play ball, and play number chain games. He even made a plan for this purpose and selected some game items, thinking that when grandma came, the old and the young would keep each other company, which might make the companionship more effective. Tong Yufei could push away everything of his, but he could not give up his brother who had accompanied him. The person he once could not tolerate became the only remaining bond between the two.
After working overtime on Sunday, he was caught in a torrential downpour on his way home. He didn't bring an umbrella and was completely soaked. When he arrived at his door, he discovered that his door lock was broken and the repairman wouldn't be able to fix it until tomorrow at the earliest. His documents were locked inside, so he couldn't even stay at a guesthouse. He braved the rain to ask for a place to stay, but she took it as an excuse to pursue him, saying that if he had done it once, he would have another. She said she didn't want anything to do with him anymore and coldly refused through the door.
It wasn't until three hours later when she went out to throw away the trash that she saw him slumped at the door, looking like he was frozen, with ice all over his hair.
There were so many families in the staff dormitory, and anyone could go into any of their homes to get out of the rain and ask for a cup of hot water. But he didn't go anywhere, just sitting there stupidly. She pulled him into the house and hit him in the chest: "If you want to die in the future, die far away. Don't come to my eyes. Did I owe you in my last life?"
Only when he was in such a miserable state would she briefly resume her identity as a wife, drying his rain-soaked clothes and boiling ginger soup to ward off the cold. When making the bed on the floor, she was a little troubled. All the bedding in the house was single-size and the floor was cold. A single mattress was definitely not enough. According to his body shape, he needed at least four mattresses and two quilts. There were still three quilts left, but only two mattresses.
He tentatively suggested sleeping in the same bed, repeatedly promised to sleep well, and even raised his sore arms as a testimony. After typing all day, his arms could not be lifted. Even if he wanted to, he did not have the energy. It would be better for them to squeeze together and sleep.
Her cold tone froze his unfinished words in his throat: "If you keep talking, go back to the old house."
He sat quietly by the side, watching her magically turn the quilt into a mattress, fold the mattress into a quilt, and make a barely livable nest for him.
The long night passed in silence. After the rain stopped and the clouds dispersed, the moon rose up like a washed silver plate. He couldn't help but think of Zhang Jiuling's "Looking at the Moon and Thinking of the Distant One": "The bright moon rises from the sea, and people all over the world share this moment. Lovers complain about the long night, and miss their lover all night long..." This bright moon that has been watching over the world for years seems to want to have a happy ending tonight, and is trying its best to spread its light to every corner. Unfortunately, he is destined to disappoint the moonlight as bright as water, and he doesn't know how many more cycles of new moon and full moon this disappointment will continue.
The cement floor in winter was as cold as an ice cellar. Even with cardboard and thick bedding, the cold could still penetrate into his bones. He was not a delicate person. When he was studying in West Germany, he could sleep soundly in the laboratory wrapped in a foam mat on a snowy night. But at this moment, perhaps because she was beside him, he felt the cold was unbearable. So he made up his mind, threw off the quilt, and squeezed into the bed without saying a word.
"Mo Daoyan, you..." Tong Yufei woke up from his dream, regretting that he had let the wolf into the house. He wanted to push him down, "Go away."
He naturally refused, and despite her full strength, she remained motionless. The quilt slipped away as she tore it apart, and the cold air immediately penetrated through her pores, chilling every inch of her skin. He clasped her struggling wrist with his left hand, and with his right hand, he pulled the quilt back and wrapped her tightly, enveloping her beneath him, his hot breath blowing on her face: "We've been married for a long time, and yet you have to do this to the extreme? You're not going to let me die of cold?"
She shouted angrily, "What are you pretending to be? How dare you complain about being cold when it's so hot?"
"You're just talking nonsense to get me out of bed? Hot or cold? Why don't you try it and see?"
As he spoke, he suddenly leaned forward, and when their foreheads touched, they both shuddered slightly. His body temperature was alarmingly high, like a piece of red-hot charcoal, which made her normal body temperature look cool as jade. Realizing that this might be a high fever caused by a cold, he immediately retreated back to the floor to avoid passing the virus to her.
"Don't move!" She grabbed his wrist, her palm feeling sweaty. Then, in the darkness, she turned on the light. In the dim light, she saw his face was pale, his lips were an abnormal red, his eyelashes trembled with fever, and his pupils were frighteningly bright... He had a high fever, no doubt. She immediately took his clothes and made him put them on. "Let's go to the hospital."
"It's just a fever. Why run to the hospital in the middle of the night? When I was in college, I would still run a thousand meters even if I had a fever of 40 degrees Celsius. I could even get through it and build up my immunity."
"That's because you're lucky," she retorted coldly, "but it doesn't mean you can get through it every time."
He laughed hoarsely: "If I say it's okay, then it's okay."
Though he spoke with a steely air, he secretly relished the hint of anxiety between her brows. This was the first time since her last abdominal injury that he'd seen her this nervous. The more anxious she was, the more intensely the fire in his heart burned. He even had the absurd thought that if he could see her like this a few more times, he'd be willing to burn for days longer. Then he laughed at himself for getting his comeuppance. He used to hate having his emotions manipulated, but now, not only were his emotions uncontrollable, but even his actions were dictated by a single glance from her. He raised a hand to rub his forehead, trying to clear her mind, but it was futile. The fever raged through his thoughts, and the single thought, "I want her to love me," burned ever brighter.
He reached out and smoothed her furrowed brows: "If you really want to help me, just find a way to make me sweat."
She had no intention of joking, so she naturally didn't understand the deeper meaning of his joke: "All the quilts at home are here."
"There's no quilt, but there's a mattress, right?"
"There's not even a spare mattress."
"It's clearly there, but you won't let me use it."
"Where is it?"
"If you use it, it will be available."
Tong Yufei was stunned for a moment before she realized his pun, and a blush immediately spread across her face. However, his expression wasn't entirely teasing; he actually considered the feasibility of it, even saying that sweating from behind was the most scientific method and wouldn't infect her. She felt embarrassed and annoyed, scolding him for being so rude with such a fever, and she thought he should just burn himself to death. She cursed him, but her heart couldn't bear it. She got out of bed, dug out some fever-reducing medicine from a drawer, and forced him to swallow it. She filled a hot water bottle to make him sweat more, and then gave him her bed.
But no matter how he coaxed her, she refused to sleep next to him.
In the early morning light, Mo Daoyan was awakened by the snoring sounds from the oil and cotton mill. The bed on the floor where Tong Yufei had slept had been made up long ago, and the bedding was neatly stacked on the mahogany box. From the kitchen next door came the sound of a kitchen knife hitting a chopping board, occasionally mixed with the sound of a spatula stirring something. The room was small and it was noisy outside. He lay on his back, his eyes drifting to the ceiling, but the warm joy in his chest wanted to overflow from time to time, turning into a smile that climbed up the corners of his mouth.
About half an hour later, she pushed the door open and came in. She stretched out her hand, which had just been soaked in cold water, and placed it on his forehead to take his temperature. She called him softly, "Mo Daoyan, get up and eat."
He closed his eyes and turned over to face the inner wall, but there was no response.
She leaned over and pushed his shoulder: "Go to work."
He turned half sideways and squinted his eyes slightly: "My fever is gone?"
"Retreat."
“Why do I feel like it hasn’t happened yet?”
"If you don't believe me, I'll get a thermometer."
"That's not necessary."
He suddenly twisted the wrist that was about to be pulled away, and then the silk quilt was lifted up and fell down, and in a blink of an eye he brought her into the warm bed. He wrapped her with the quilt, leaving only a fair and slightly red face exposed. He couldn't help but want to kiss her, first touching her gently, and then sucking deeply.
She grabbed the hand that slid down along her waistline and panted softly, "The food is cold."
He took her hand in his and slid it into the sweater together: "Warm it up again when it's cold."
"You'll be late for work."
"You're a reporter, do you still need to use a card to check attendance?"
"Aren't you going?"
"I have just recovered from my illness. Can I check my recovery?"
Her sweater was pushed up to her shoulders and her jeans were unbuttoned. He said he was doing a body check, but his fingers were actually doing a sensitivity test on her body. When the warm and moist touch lingered on her lower abdomen, her protests turned into rapid gasps. He still felt it was not enough, so he blocked her lips, wanting to merge with her and release all the sweat he had accumulated last night, but in an instant he met a pair of black and white eyes.
Ye Yi Mo came in at some point, munching on a delicious meat bun and staring at the two of them.
"This is the norm from now on. Can you endure it for a day, a month, or even a year? Can you endure it for the rest of your life?" Tong Yufei noticed the momentary gloom in his eyes, straightened her clothes, and tied her scattered hair back into a ponytail. "Go back after you finish eating, and don't come here again."
Some things are not problems at first, but once they are brought up repeatedly, they will become an unsolvable knot. Mo Daoyan did not respond and put on his clothes in silence. Tong Yufei changed the iron she used to iron clothes to a steam type. The clothes she ironed for him yesterday were lingering with a faint fragrance. He suspected that she had dropped perfume in the iron, the one she gave her earlier.
He put his arm around her shoulders and walked out, "What delicious food did you make today?"
She cooked corn paste and baked shredded radish and egg pancakes. The dishes were simple, a plate of stir-fried seasonal vegetables, half a bowl of pickled cucumbers, and the dishes were served on pure white porcelain plates. This standard of living was far from that of the old house, and could not compare to his work meals at the company, but he ate them with great relish, and even finished the half of her remaining pancake.
However, a warm breakfast could not change anything, just like no matter how heavy the rain was, it could not wash away the gray haze that had always covered the sky above the oil and cotton mill. Later, he came a few more times, but she never let him cross the threshold again. Their marriage seemed to be in name only.
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