Su Zhi hid her hands behind her back, avoiding Yue Chunhan’s gaze, and refused his offer. “No need, it’s just a minor skin injury. It’s fine, don’t trouble yourself.”
Su Zhi thought to herself: Didn’t Yue Chunhan say earlier that they should stay out of each other’s way? Why was he offering her medicine now? Was this hitting someone and then giving them a date?
Seeing her refusal, Yue Chunhan’s expression seemed to grow even colder. He said in a low voice, “Don’t misunderstand. I was just applying ointment to myself and casually asked. Since you don’t need it, forget it.”
As he spoke, he made as if to close the medical kit. Yue Tiantian, who had been watching them eagerly, grew anxious. She rushed over, stopping Yue Chunhan. “Daddy, don’t put it away! Auntie’s hands are swollen; it must hurt a lot. Help her!”
Yue Tiantian then tugged at Su Zhi’s clothes, looking up to persuade her. “Auntie, if your hands hurt and you don’t apply medicine, they’ll heal slowly. Getting them wet will hurt even more. Putting on ointment will help. Auntie, you should listen!”
Yue Tiantian perfectly provided a ladder for the two stubborn, prideful people. Just as another cold war was about to begin, with the innocent Yue Tiantian’s help, they now had a way to back down gracefully.
Pushed by Yue Tiantian, Su Zhi sat on the kang. The old wooden table had been polished bright by Yue Chunhan. Across the table, Yue Chunhan lowered his head, holding bandages. In the candlelight, his eyelashes appeared thick and long, his thin lips pressed together. His handsome face was cold, his eyes like winter stars, his eyebrows high and defined, his features deep—truly enough to make one’s heart flutter.
Such a handsome face, paired with such an infuriating personality—what a waste from heaven. Su Zhi couldn’t help but sigh inwardly as she looked at him.
Just then, Yue Chunhan lifted his eyes to Su Zhi, his voice cool. “Give me your hand.”
Su Zhi, lost in admiring Yue Chunhan’s good looks, was startled for a moment before reacting. Hesitantly, she extended one hand, which Yue Chunhan took by the palm, bringing it close to the candle to examine carefully.
Yue Chunhan’s hands were somewhat cool, with distinct knuckles. The back of his hands showed prominent veins, his fingers long and slender, bearing calluses from labor.
His hands were nice-looking, but the calluses rubbed against Su Zhi’s skin uncomfortably, causing a slight itch. When Yue Chunhan’s cool fingertips touched her warm, soft fingers, a strange sensation arose. Su Zhi’s body instinctively tensed, and a faint blush rose to her cheeks.
Yue Chunhan held Su Zhi’s palm, cleaning her wounds by the candlelight. Upon seeing them, even he couldn’t help raising an eyebrow in surprise.
The injuries on Su Zhi’s hands were worse than he had imagined. Probably unused to manual work, even such light labor had chafed her hands like this. What surprised Yue Chunhan was that in the past, Su Zhi would have complained endlessly even if her hands just felt sore. But now, she seemed to have changed, enduring a whole day’s work without a word.
Recalling how Su Zhi had persevered, covered in sweat, gritting her teeth in the afternoon, Yue Chunhan’s tightly furrowed brow unconsciously relaxed slightly.
But his words remained harsh, even dripping with sarcasm. “Good thing I’m treating your wounds tonight. Otherwise, if people saw you tomorrow, they’d think I’m abusing you.”
Yue Chunhan’s eyes were cold, his words biting. Su Zhi, angered, wanted to pull her hand back immediately, thinking she didn’t need his help. But not only could she not retrieve her hand, she received a look from Yue Chunhan as if scolding a child. “Be still. Don’t move.”
He lectured Su Zhi like a child. Beside them, Yue Tiantian rested her chin on her hands, watching the treatment. Su Zhi bit her lower lip, her cheeks flushed crimson with anger.
Su Zhi’s hands were very beautiful—a delicate porcelain white, warm and soft, seemingly boneless. Her nails were pink like petals, the nail beds round and slightly upturned, truly resembling peeled spring onions.
Because her hands were originally lovely, the injuries appeared even more glaring. The red, swollen, chafed fingertips disrupted the harmony, and there were several such spots, highlighting Su Zhi’s tender skin. It was worth noting that Yue Chunhan hadn’t even made Su Zhi do heavy work—he had cut the vast majority of the corn stalks himself. Su Zhi’s contribution was almost negligible. Yet even so, she had managed to injure her hands like this. Could it truly be said she was a delicate young lady who never touched rough work?
Yue Chunhan held Su Zhi’s hand, applying ointment, his gaze deep. The ointment was cool. When applied to the wounds on her fingers, the thick paste touching the raw skin caused a slight burning sensation along with the sting of contact. Su Zhi bit her lip but couldn’t help letting out a soft gasp.
Yue Chunhan lifted his dark eyes to look at Su Zhi.
Su Zhi had just bathed. Her half-dried hair still dripped with water. Droplets trailed down her fair, slender neck, disappearing into her chest and back. The beautiful, delicate hollow of her collarbone was damp with water trails, gleaming in the candlelight as if glowing.
Yue Chunhan paused slightly, then quickly averted his gaze, pretending nothing had happened as he lowered his head to apply medicine to Su Zhi’s wounds. His expression remained cold, but for some reason, his eyelashes trembled more rapidly.
Initially, Su Zhi found the medicine application a bit painful, but Yue Chunhan soon lightened his touch, making it less uncomfortable.
Without modern hair towels, they had to make do with a simple towel wrapped around the hair. Inevitably, disobedient droplets dripped from the ends, dampening Su Zhi’s clothes.
Her collarbones were delicate. With every breath, two hollows appeared there. Water droplets fell into those hollows, either pooling or sliding down, full of sensual implication.
As Su Zhi waited idly during the treatment, her gaze instinctively wandered around and soon landed on the dressing table at the end of the kang.
The old-fashioned dressing table had drawers on both sides and a large round mirror in the middle. Its surface had a faux light wood grain pattern, completely mismatched with the rest of Yue Chunhan’s room. Yue Chunhan’s belongings were all old and dark, while this dressing table had a lively, bright, and elegant presence.
It was said that this dressing table was part of the original host’s dowry, something she had cried and fussed about bringing from her parents’ home. The mirror surface already had some scratches, showing its age. Reflected faintly in it was a charming woman with exquisite, beautiful features, full rosy lips—her entire face like a richly colored oil painting, delivering a striking impact at first glance.
Su Zhi could calmly accept this face because it was nearly identical to her original one. The only slight difference was that this face was more glamorous. Her original face didn’t have such upward, alluring red eye corners or such captivating, amorous peach blossom eyes; it was overall gentler and more innocent.
Yue Tiantian, watching Yue Chunhan treat Su Zhi’s wounds intently, suddenly caught a very fragrant scent. Sniffing around, she realized it was the scent of the soap from Su Zhi’s hair.
Without convenient, non-drying shampoo, Su Zhi had to wash her hair with soap. This small bar of soap was symbolically bought by Yue Chunhan from the market during the wedding.
Tiny as it was, the whole family used it—Yue Chunhan too. But Yue Tiantian sniffed and sniffed, not finding her father’s scent particularly fragrant at all. Though they used the same soap, she felt Su Zhi’s scent was much more appealing.
“Done.”
Yue Chunhan tore off a bandage and wrapped Su Zhi’s fingertips. Actually, Su Zhi’s wounds weren’t large, mostly friction burns. But Yue Chunhan bandaged them securely, instantly making Su Zhi’s fingers look thicker.
While wrapping, the two inevitably drew closer. Faintly, Su Zhi seemed to hear Yue Chunhan’s breathing. Their exhales mingled, oddly making Su Zhi feel awkward.
…They were so close.
Seen up close, Yue Chunhan’s cold eyes seemed even sharper, the corners long and cool. His eyelashes were long and thick—truly enviable. That mouth, which never seemed to say anything pleasant, had a nice shape up close, his thin lips pressed together, looking somewhat serious.
Su Zhi stared, lost in thought. Yue Chunhan abruptly lifted his eyes. At close range, their breaths intertwined, their eyes met. The red candle dripped wax, reminiscent of their wedding day. In the dim light, the lines of Yue Chunhan’s face seemed softer, not as hard and cold as she remembered.
“It’s wrapped.”
Yue Chunhan spoke, releasing Su Zhi’s hand he had been holding.
Su Zhi made a sound of acknowledgment and withdrew her hand, placing it awkwardly on her knees. Suddenly, she felt her cheeks burning.
…She had actually stared at Yue Chunhan for so long right in front of him… and got caught. How embarrassing.
Yue Chunhan looked away from Su Zhi, handing her the ointment he had just applied. His voice was slightly hoarse. “The rest… apply it yourself.”
“Mm… okay.”
Su Zhi bit her lower lip and took the ointment. The bottle was still warm, carrying the residual heat from Yue Chunhan’s hand.