“What’s going on?” Yue Tiantian looked up after finishing her noodles, her little face filled with confusion.
Yue Chunhan glanced at her and reassured her, “Daddy’s fine, Tiantian. If you’re done eating, go out and play with your friends.”
Yue Tiantian hesitated for a moment, but seeing that Yue Chunhan’s expression was calm and he didn’t seem troubled, she took his word for it, climbed down from the kang, and went off to play with the village children. Before leaving, she smacked her lips, already planning to brag to her friends about eating wheat noodles today—after all, she’d never had such a treat before Auntie came. Everything had gotten better since Auntie arrived at their home.
Now only Su Zhi and Yue Chunhan remained in the room. Su Zhi sat on the edge of the kang, biting her lip, feeling a pang of guilt.
She hadn’t known Yue Chunhan was carrying such a serious injury. If she had, she would have rather hopped home on one foot than let him carry her back.
The thought of Yue Chunhan enduring such a severe wound while calmly going about his tasks left her utterly astonished.
…Yue Chunhan was truly something else.
Though inwardly impressed, Su Zhi’s expression remained serious. After all, such a large wound needed proper care, or it risked infection.
“Yue Chunhan, you should go to the hospital.” Su Zhi frowned, looking up at him with concern.
It wasn’t yet dark outside, so there was still time to go to the hospital. Surely there must be a clinic or something in the village.
Yue Chunhan finished the noodles in his bowl and went to serve himself another portion. The noodles were smooth and chewy, and he ate with relish, his features relaxing in satisfaction. “No need. This kind of injury will heal on its own.”
Heal on its own?
Su Zhi wasn’t sure whether he truly believed in his own healing abilities or was simply trying to avoid spending money.
Her gaze swept over the nearly empty basin of wheat flour, and she thought of the large sack of flour Yue Chunhan had carried back that afternoon. Suddenly, the noodles in her bowl didn’t seem as appetizing.
…If Yue Chunhan had chosen buying flour over getting medical treatment for his injury, then he must be the biggest fool in the world.
As if sensing her thoughts, Yue Chunhan finished his second bowl of noodles, his expression unchanged. He looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers. “Don’t overthink it. I just can’t be bothered going to the clinic. It’ll heal on its own—no need to waste money.”
Going to a clinic was considered wasting money? Su Zhi couldn’t help but be both amused and exasperated by his logic.
She clutched her chopsticks, her appetite gone. Looking over, she noticed the noodle basin was already empty, yet Yue Chunhan still seemed unsatisfied. Hesitating, she pushed her own bowl of noodles toward him. “I still have some here. You can have it.”
Yue Chunhan’s dark eyes swept over Su Zhi’s slender frame, his voice low. “No need. You eat the noodles. You need to put on some weight, so people won’t think I’m mistreating you when you go out.”
Su Zhi flushed at his words—this time from irritation.
She quickly picked up her bowl and took a big bite, her cheeks bulging as she chewed, grumbling inwardly: Fine, don’t eat it then. My goodwill wasted.
Yue Chunhan went to the kitchen and returned with a large bowl of the stew Su Zhi had made at noon. He scooped up all the leftovers into his bowl, perfectly solving the problem of the remaining food.
The weather was cold, so the dishes from noon had already cooled. The vegetables, stewed with lard, mingled together—the potatoes soft and mushy, most of them turned into mashed potatoes mixed with the broth, coating the other ingredients.
Su Zhi wanted to suggest he heat it up, but Yue Chunhan didn’t seem to mind. He ladled some of the bean sauce over it, stirred it well, broke off half a chilled corn cake, and ate with relish.
Su Zhi was stunned by his appetite. Seeing that he genuinely didn’t mind eating their leftovers or that the food was cold, she realized he truly wasn’t picky.
Thinking back to how he had chewed the unpalatable corn cakes without any change in expression, Su Zhi had to admit Yue Chunhan was truly remarkable.
In the end, Su Zhi couldn’t finish her bowl of noodles. Perhaps because she had eaten a lot at noon, she had felt hungry when she saw the noodles but grew full after just a few bites.
She hadn’t served herself much to begin with, yet half a bowl remained after her slow eating. Yue Chunhan glanced over at Su Zhi, thinking she ate like a kitten—her portion wouldn’t even fill one of his bites.
Watching Su Zhi struggle to finish, her face troubled, Yue Chunhan finished his corn cake and said in a low voice, “If you can’t finish, don’t force yourself. Leave it for tomorrow. I’ll heat it up for you in the pot in the morning.”
Could noodles with sauce still taste good after being reheated? Su Zhi imagined the sticky, steamed noodles and instantly lost her appetite, feeling unenthused.
Yue Chunhan knew Su Zhi was picky, but he hadn’t expected her to be picky even with wheat noodles. Seeing her scrunched-up face, he found it hard to imagine what she usually ate at home.
The Su family’s financial situation didn’t seem particularly good, did it?
After a moment of thought, Yue Chunhan leaned over, picked up Su Zhi’s half-finished bowl of noodles, and, under her gaze, showed no sign of distaste as he lifted the chopsticks and quickly shoveled the noodles into his mouth.
The noodles were still warm, but the sauce was piping hot. The savory, thick sauce coated each strand of noodle, and the hand-rolled noodles were delightfully chewy and springy. The combination was incredibly tasty—so delicious it felt like it could make one’s tongue sing.
Yue Chunhan hadn’t expected that the old beans left unpicked in the yard could be cooked into something so delicious. In just a few bites, he finished the remaining half bowl of noodles Su Zhi had left.
In reality, what Su Zhi considered half a bowl was only two or three mouthfuls for Yue Chunhan. Earlier, while hunting in the mountains and lying in wait for prey, he hadn’t eaten much in the morning or at noon and had been starving. Now, after finishing the food, he finally felt properly full.
As Yue Chunhan skillfully cleared the table, Su Zhi hesitated internally.
Yue Chunhan’s back was still a mess of wounds. Even though he seemed indifferent, could he really not be in pain with such a deep injury?
The beast’s claws had torn his flesh open, leaving it bloody and ragged. It was easy to imagine how perilous the situation must have been when he fought the wild boar.
Su Zhi climbed down from the kang and stopped Yue Chunhan from washing the dishes. She bit her lip and grabbed his arm.
Outside, the sky was growing dim, and the unlit kitchen was somewhat dark. Yet Su Zhi’s eyes were bright, like stars scattered across a galaxy, her clear, moist pupils reflecting determination. Her thick eyelashes resembled a row of tiny brushes.
She looked hesitant, even a bit nervous, but her grip on Yue Chunhan’s arm was firm, and her expression grew resolute.
“Yue Chunhan, don’t worry about these for now. Come inside with me… I’ll clean your wound.”
Before being transported into this book, Su Zhi had studied medicine. She hadn’t originally intended to reveal this, not wanting to appear too different from the original host and risk being labeled a witch and burned at the stake.
But Yue Chunhan’s injury was so severe that Su Zhi couldn’t bear to ignore it, especially since she had eaten her share of the noodles made from the flour he had worked so hard to obtain.
Thinking of this, Su Zhi’s resolve strengthened. “Yue Chunhan, come with me inside.”
The sky was slightly dark, veiled by twilight, and the rural courtyard was quiet, with only occasional clucking from the chickens in the coop.
Yue Chunhan removed his shirt and lay face down on the kang, revealing his well-defined muscles. Even his back showed beautifully sculpted, block-like muscles. Before lying down, his exposed abdomen displayed eight distinct abs, with deep shark lines and a pronounced V-line—his honey-toned skin exuded strength and vitality.
Su Zhi bit her lip, her cheeks flushing.
This was her first time seeing a man shirtless, and the impact was overwhelming. Especially when Yue Chunhan stood before her, raising an eyebrow as he removed his shirt—his towering height and taut muscles gave her an intense visual impact and a sense of pressure.
To mask her embarrassment, Su Zhi retrieved the first aid kit Yue Chunhan had used earlier when treating her. Carrying it onto the kang, she sat beside Yue Chunhan.
The wound on Yue Chunhan’s back had already clotted, the flesh torn and scabbed over. The beast’s claws had left deep gashes, and removing his shirt had been difficult because the dried blood had fused with his skin, sticking to the fabric. Each tug must have been excruciating.
Yue Chunhan’s expression was cool, as if the injured person wasn’t him. He lay face down on the kang, his sharp, dark eyes sweeping over Su Zhi, lingering on her serious and cautious face for a long time.
“Can you handle it?” Yue Chunhan sounded somewhat skeptical, as the Su Zhi he knew didn’t seem like someone who would know how to clean a wound.
Su Zhi wasn’t offended by his doubt. She washed her hands carefully, her striking, enchanting face now filled with focus. Her clear eyes lowered, thick eyelashes casting shadows as she leaned close to Yue Chunhan’s back, meticulously cleaning the wound.
Perhaps because the current Su Zhi differed so much from the one in Yue Chunhan’s memory, Yue Chunhan instinctively raised an eyebrow, his thin lips pressing together slightly.
Treating a wound at home wasn’t as sterile as in a hospital, so Su Zhi had to be extra cautious—especially since Yue Chunhan refused to go to the village clinic.
The first step was cleaning the wound. Su Zhi checked the contents of the first aid kit beforehand and found it surprisingly well-equipped. The second layer contained tweezers and scissors, and there were even hydrogen peroxide and iodine—clear evidence of how often Yue Chunhan got injured.
Su Zhi carefully used a clean brush to gently remove the scabs and dirt around Yue Chunhan’s wound. As the light grew dimmer, she had to lean even closer, her shallow breaths brushing against Yue Chunhan’s back. Yue Chunhan tensed instantly, his eyelashes fluttering slightly.
It tickled.
Su Zhi tried her best to avoid touching Yue Chunhan’s back, but it was impossible not to make contact. Every time her fingers brushed against his spine, Yue Chunhan’s body stiffened abruptly, tightening up.
Her fingers were warm, much like her presence—alive and comforting.
Yue Chunhan buried his face in his arms, revealing only his dark eyes, his trembling eyelashes masking his emotions.
Su Zhi meticulously cleaned the torn flesh on Yue Chunhan’s back. After removing the scabs, she rinsed the area with saline solution she had prepared—salt mixed with water—gently washing away debris and dirt from the skin.