When Zhou Zhuo returned, it was already past seven in the evening.
Wen Mingyao sat by the table, propping her chin as she read a book. Hearing the sound of the door being pushed open, as if knowing it was Zhou Zhuo, she gently closed the book in front of her. “You’re back? There’s food in the pot.”
Zhou Zhuo raised his hand to undo the buttons on his shirt, letting out a low “hmm” as he placed the nylon mesh bag in his hand on the table.
It landed with a soft thud…
Wen Mingyao glanced over and saw two cans of fruit inside the bag.
Noticing her gaze, Zhou Zhuo sat down opposite her, his eyes falling on her hand. He raised an eyebrow meaningfully. “Scraped by accident…” His voice trailed off slightly, and the look in his eyes gradually turned cold. “Or were you pushed?”
Wen Mingyao stiffened, lowering her gaze and sitting silently for a long while before slowly spreading her palm open, her eyes sweeping over the thin scab on her palm.
After a long pause, she answered evasively, “It’s fine. It should heal soon.”
Zhou Zhuo rested his forearm on the table, leaning slightly forward. Seeing Wen Mingyao’s indifferent expression, the corners of his lips curled into a mocking smile.
Wen Mingyao was always so afraid of pain.
In the past, even a small prick from a thorn would make her cry out in pain…
Yet today, after scraping her palm against a concrete wall, she simply said, “It’s fine,” with such detachment.
Her eyes were so cold, devoid of any emotion.
As if it truly didn’t hurt at all.
What was even more ridiculous was… as her husband, he had only learned the reason for her injury from someone else.
Zhou Zhuo looked at her expressionless face and felt nothing but irony.
Suddenly, he lost all interest in continuing the conversation.
He turned and lifted the curtain, heading into the kitchen to eat.
By the time Zhou Zhuo finished his meal, washed the dishes, and stepped out of the kitchen, Wen Mingyao had already returned to her room.
That afternoon, when he had returned, Sister Xiangxiu from next door had stopped him. After hearing her vague mention of what had happened, he had a rough idea of the day’s events.
He remembered the scrape on Wen Mingyao’s palm that he had seen during lunch. His first instinct was to go to the Qian family and demand an explanation.
But thinking of Qian Ying being away on duty, that troublesome little brat, and Qian Ying’s pregnant wife, he could only suppress the urge to confront them. He decided to wait until Qian Ying returned to find an opportunity to talk things over properly.
He also remembered how, back in Rongcheng, Wen Mingyao would eat canned fruit whenever she felt unwell.
Even though he had already reached the doorstep, he turned back to the office to get money and ration tickets, then rushed to the military service store to buy her favorite canned peaches.
Zhou Zhuo lowered his gaze, his eyes darkening as he stared at the untouched cans on the table. The coldness in his expression seemed even more pronounced than before.
Then, he gently placed his hand over the lid of one of the cans, his voice so low it was almost inaudible. “Wen Mingyao, do you not like it anymore, or do you just not like it when I buy it for you…”
After a long while, Zhou Zhuo finally suppressed the frustration in his heart.
Just as he was about to return to his study, his gaze fell on the book Wen Mingyao had left behind. The moment he read the title, the already stern expression on his face seemed to grow even colder.
…
The next morning, as Wen Mingyao finished washing up and stepped out of the shower room, Zhou Zhuo walked in.
Wen Mingyao gently rubbed the clam oil into her hands, her fingers moving softly. Seeing Zhou Zhuo carrying two aluminum lunchboxes, she paused slightly, “It’s almost eight-thirty, why haven’t you left yet?”
Zhou Zhuo glanced at her indifferently without saying a word, placing the lunchboxes on the table.
Seeing he didn’t answer, Wen Mingyao tactfully didn’t press further.
Instead, she opened the lunchboxes. One contained three tightly packed large meat buns, while the other was filled with thickly cooked millet porridge, topped with a layer of rich rice oil.
Wen Mingyao reached for a bun and took a small bite when Zhou Zhuo asked, “Aren’t you having the porridge?”
Wen Mingyao shook her head. The large lunchbox of porridge was thick and sticky, making it hard to pour into a bowl, and besides, there were no small spoons at home.
If she drank first, Zhou Zhuo would probably refuse to touch it afterward, wouldn’t he?
Zhou Zhuo silently sighed, picked up a bun, and took a big bite. Seeing her still lowering her eyes and chewing slowly, a flicker of inexplicable irritation flashed in his eyes.
“Hurry up and eat. Afterward, we’re going to the post office to pick up the package you mailed earlier!”
Hearing this, Wen Mingyao hummed in acknowledgment and gradually quickened her pace.
After finishing the meal, they went to the post office. While Zhou Zhuo went to retrieve the package, Wen Mingyao went to the long-distance call desk to register and wait in line.
Holding her breath, she dialed the phone number she had long memorized.
Her fingers tightly gripped the receiver, and the moment the call connected, her fingertips hanging at her side trembled almost imperceptibly.
Before she could speak, Mother Zhou asked first:
“Wen Mingyao, have you and Zhou Zhuo shared a room these past few days?”
Hearing Mother Zhou’s urgent question, Wen Mingyao, who had originally intended to report that she was safe, felt her nose suddenly sting and her throat tighten slightly.
As soon as she arrived, Zhou Zhuo had taken his bedding and pillow and moved to the study.
How could she possibly say that to her mother-in-law?
Even if she did, all she’d get in return would be, “You’re just not capable enough to keep your man. Who else can you blame?”
Seeing her remain silent, Mother Zhou instantly grew furious.
“Wen Mingyao, you know how Dad envies others for having great-grandchildren. You and Ah Zhuo have been married for two years and still haven’t shared a room. How is his longed-for great-grandchild supposed to magically appear out of thin air?”
“When you first got married, one of you was in Rongcheng and the other in Yuncheng, so it was understandable you couldn’t share a room. But now you’re both in Yuncheng—why is there still no progress?”
Mother Zhou’s questioning voice, one after another, felt like heavy blows striking Wen Mingyao’s heart.
On the night she arrived, she had tried to get closer to Zhou Zhuo, to take things a step further.
But as soon as Zhou Zhuo heard her mention making the bed, he ran off.
She also wanted to have a child with Zhou Zhuo, but Zhou Zhuo was unwilling.
Wen Mingyao closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and simply said, “Mom, I understand.”
Hearing this, Mother Zhou instantly laughed in frustration:
The old man really is something—he clearly has two grandsons.
Although Ah Zhuo has been cold-natured since childhood, Ah Yue not only has a naturally cheerful smile but also a good temper.
The old man knew full well that Wen Mingyao had such a reserved personality, yet he still insisted she choose one of them to marry.
And this Wen Mingyao—instead of choosing the good-tempered Ah Yue, she insistently chose Ah Zhuo, who had been groomed by the old man as his successor since childhood.
In Mother Zhou’s view, the wives her two sons brought home should at least come from upright backgrounds and comparable family statuses.
As the daughter of a capitalist family, Wen Mingyao was not even worthy of Zhou Yue, let alone Zhou Zhuo…
But if she had to choose between Mother Zhou’s most valued eldest son and her most beloved youngest son, she would rather Wen Mingyao choose the younger son, Zhou Yue.