As his breathing gradually steadied, Zhou Zhuo sat up on the edge of the bed, his back straight.
Wen Mingyao seemed to sense the lingering warmth around her and unconsciously tugged at the corner of the blanket, murmuring softly as she pulled it down.
The moment his gaze fell upon it, the scratches on that pale, slender wrist made Zhou Zhuo’s pupils contract sharply, as if stung.
Around the cool, fair wrist was a faint ring of purplish-black bruising.
It looked particularly jarring.
Zhou Zhuo sighed softly and carefully retrieved a small jar of ointment from the bedside table, careful not to make a sound.
His cool fingertips gently touched Wen Mingyao’s wrist, his thumb slowly tracing the marks.
In her sleep, Wen Mingyao seemed to feel a slight chill and instinctively shrank back.
Zhou Zhuo immediately held his breath, quickly withdrawing his hand, his fingers hovering in mid-air.
After a long while, he tentatively reached out to touch her again but stopped just an inch from her wrist.
He slowly closed his eyes, exhaled deeply, and when he opened them again, his gaze was clear and detached.
…
By the time Wen Mingyao woke up, the sun was already high in the sky.
After washing up and walking into the living room, she noticed an aluminum lunchbox on the dining table.
Opening it, she found a soft, fluffy white steamed bun and half a neatly sliced pickled cucumber. A glass of water sat beside it.
She reached out to touch them—both were still warm, just right.
Wen Mingyao shook her head with a light laugh, never expecting Zhou Zhuo to bring her a meal…
She picked up the bun and took a small bite. It was soft, white, and glossy, sinking easily under the slightest pressure, clearly well-risen.
Paired with a crisp piece of pickled cucumber, a sweet wheat fragrance mixed with a refreshing tang exploded on her tongue. She took a sip of the warm water.
After eating and drinking her fill, Wen Mingyao squinted contentedly, tilting her head back to stretch leisurely.
Just as she was about to lower her wrist slowly, her gaze suddenly froze.
The purplish-black bruises she had seen last night now appeared much lighter.
A flicker of doubt crossed her eyes. That shouldn’t be—had she misseen them yesterday?
Lost in thought, a rapid knocking suddenly erupted at the courtyard gate, one knock after another, growing louder with no sign of stopping.
Frowning, Wen Mingyao opened the gate to find a chubby little boy charging toward her like a firecracker.
Staggering from the impact, she hastily reached out to steady herself against the wall.
Suppressing the sting in her palm, she looked down at the plump little boy, who appeared to be around five or six years old.
“Auntie, are you new here? Can I come in and play?” Qian Dabao looked up at Wen Mingyao with his chubby face, his eyes darting around.
Anyone could see he wasn’t the quiet type.
Wen Mingyao took a deep breath, bent down, and shook her head at him, though she softened her tone. “No, we don’t have any children here. Auntie needs to go out to buy groceries and doesn’t have time to play with you today.”
Hearing this, Qian Dabao’s face instantly puffed up, and he immediately headbutted her in the stomach.
As Wen Mingyao fell to the ground, he seized the opportunity and dashed into the house.
Seeing this, Wen Mingyao ignored the pain and hurried after him.
After Qian Dabao entered the house, he saw an aluminum lunchbox on the dining table. He hurriedly climbed onto the chair using both hands and feet and spotted a small half-piece of white flour steamed bun inside. Without hesitation, he reached out to grab it.
Like a wild horse that had broken free from its reins, his movements were frantic and impulsive.
He stuffed the steamed bun into his mouth, completely ignoring the aluminum lunchbox he had knocked to the floor.
Even the nearby chair was kicked over by him, instantly turning the living room into a chaotic mess.
Wen Mingyao felt a throbbing pain in her temples at the sight of this.
She forcefully closed her eyes, suppressing the urge to rush over and yank him down, and spoke in a low voice, “Get out!”
Qian Dabao paid no attention to her words. After finishing the steamed bun, he jumped off the chair, grabbed the newspaper on the coffee table, tore it into pieces, and threw them at her with force.
Afterward, he didn’t forget to stick out his tongue and make a face at her.
Fine! Very well!
“I told you to get out. Didn’t you hear me? Do I have to force you out myself?” Wen Mingyao gritted her teeth, rolled up her sleeves, and immediately stepped forward to grab him by the collar.
Qian Dabao was momentarily stunned by her sudden action:
He had always acted this way before. Although those people would stomp their feet in anger every time, they only ever scolded him verbally.
Why was this time different?
This wicked woman actually dared to lay hands on him!
It wasn’t until Wen Mingyao dragged him all the way out of the courtyard that Qian Dabao realized what had just happened.
Seeing Wen Mingyao expressionlessly about to set him down on the ground, he took the opportunity to lie down, saying nothing but rolling around on the ground with all his might.
His little hands flailed wildly, and his feet kicked and stomped.
In no time, he was covered in dust from head to toe, looking filthy.
He cried and wailed at the top of his lungs, the sharp, piercing sound grating on Wen Mingyao’s eardrums.
Qian Dabao’s crying and wailing were loud, but the neighboring households seemed to hear nothing, remaining eerily quiet.
Wen Mingyao watched coldly as he threw his tantrum, unmoved. “Who would have thought? At such a young age, you’re already quite the expert at throwing a fit!”
“You fox spirit, you wicked woman, how dare you hit me…”
Seeing Qian Dabao cry even more vigorously, Wen Mingyao curled her lips into a cold smile. Without saying another word, she went inside, grabbed some money and ration coupons, picked up a vegetable basket, locked the courtyard gate, and turned to leave.
She had no time to discipline someone else’s child.
She still had to go out to buy oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, tea, rice, flour, cooking oil, meat, vegetables, eggs, and the like, so she could prepare the meal before Zhou Zhuo returned at noon.
Seeing Wen Mingyao leave and no one else around, Qian Dabao quickly got up, wiped his dirty little face with his hand, glared darkly at the almost disappearing figure in the distance, gritted his teeth, and ran off.
Xiangxiu held her breath, pressing her body tightly against the inner wall.
Listening as the footsteps gradually faded away until they were completely inaudible, she slowly pushed open her own courtyard gate and quickly scanned the area. Confirming that both Wen Mingyao and Qian Dabao were indeed far away, she finally relaxed.
She patted her chest, still shaken. “Oh my, that scared me to death! Why did Qian Dabao come again?”
As soon as she finished speaking, someone suddenly jumped down from the wall. “What else could it be? He just saw that this capitalist’s daughter had just arrived and wouldn’t dare make a scene.”
Hearing this, Xiangxiu couldn’t help but show a flicker of disgust in her eyes. “Such a young child already knows how to judge people and act accordingly. What will he be like when he grows up? Doesn’t Qian Ying do anything to discipline him…”
“Manage?” Chen Qiao dusted off her hands with a cold sneer. “How can he manage? He can’t beat them, and he can’t scold them either! If Qian Ying says a single word, their home will be turned upside down by that grandmother and grandson pair that very night!”