Jiang Liao wasn’t faring any better on his side.
After practically fleeing, he pushed open the creaky wooden door of his shabby house. The room was pitch dark—his father had likely gone to bed long ago.
Feeling his way in the dark, Jiang Liao went into the kitchen, scooped up a large ladle of cold water from the jar, and tilted his head back, gulping it down.
The icy well water slid down his throat into his stomach, but it couldn’t extinguish the fire burning ever hotter in his lower abdomen.
He tossed the ladle back into the jar and leaned against the cold stove, breathing heavily.
All he could see in his mind was the image of that woman clinging to his back.
Though he hadn’t seen her face, he could still feel the slender curve of her waist beneath his palm…
The soft, full contours pressed against his back…
And the faint tremor when her weak, panicked breaths brushed against the back of his neck…
It all felt far too vivid…
Damn it—her waist was really that slim. His big hand could practically encircle it.
Yet slim as it was, where she should have curves, she had them—full and soft—pressing against his back, rubbing against him with every step he took.
That feeling…
Jiang Liao’s Adam’s apple bobbed sharply. His whole body burned with restless heat, that unfamiliar, feverish sensation coursing through his limbs.
It left him unable to sit still.
Even his coarse cloth trousers felt tight, adding to his irritation.
He cursed under his breath and tugged hard at his waistband.
But his hand accidentally brushed against himself.
At that touch, his mind exploded with a loud boom, and even worse images surged uncontrollably into his thoughts.
He remembered that night—standing beneath the Chen family’s wall, hearing those soft cries.
Light, delicate, clinging… like a kitten’s paw scratching at his heart.
Back then, he’d only thought Chen Wenqi was useless—wasting such a captivating voice.
But now…
He imagined her slightly timid eyes, misted with a layer of tears, the corners reddened, a fine sheen of sweat on her small nose.
That mud-stained yet still charming face tilting up toward him, lips slightly parted—
Calling him in that soft, sticky voice, trembling:
“Brother Jiang…”
Just the thought of it made something in Jiang Liao’s mind snap.
He suddenly bent forward, pressing his forehead against the cold, rough edge of the stove, letting out a low, strained growl.
Closing his eyes, his mind was filled entirely with Lin Suier.
Especially the way her lips parted slightly when she gasped in pain…
He imagined her lying obediently in his arms, her soft little hands…
Pinning her against the rough earthen wall.
Listening to her call him “Brother Jiang” again and again in that clinging voice—
Making her cry, making her beg…
The darkness became the perfect cover, amplifying every faint sound.
Jiang Liao shut his eyes tightly, his teeth clenched so hard they ached.
He didn’t know how long passed before the tension snapped at its peak, leaving only his heavy breathing and a dizzy emptiness.
He slumped weakly against the stove.
“Damn it… I’ve really gone mad…”
He grabbed a rag from the side, wiped himself off hastily, and tied his trousers back up.
Though the heat had temporarily subsided, the irritation in his heart hadn’t lessened at all.
Jiang Liao walked out into the yard and, under the moonlight, drew a bucket of well water, splashing his face carelessly.
The cold water cleared his head a little.
But as soon as his mind cleared, he remembered Lin Suier’s ankle—swollen like a steamed bun.
That useless scholar Chen Wenqi—aside from putting on airs and despising others, what else could he even do?
And Zhou Shi, that old shrew, was notoriously harsh.
With her injury like that, would they really let her rest tomorrow?
More likely she’d be cursed awake before dawn and forced to work!
At the thought, the anger he had just suppressed flared up again—along with a trace of restlessness he himself couldn’t quite understand.
He paced irritably around the yard a couple of times before stopping beneath the window of his father’s room.
Two years ago, his father had broken his leg while chopping firewood in the mountains. They still had the medicinal plaster prescribed by Doctor Li, along with an elm-wood crutch.
Jiang Liao’s eyes shifted as an idea formed.
He couldn’t deliver the medicine himself—not openly. What would that look like?
A widower delivering medicine in broad daylight to another man’s young wife—people’s gossip alone could drown him.
And Zhou Shi’s sharp tongue would be merciless.
But if it came from his father, it would make sense.
His father was old, kind-hearted, and not steady on his feet. Hearing that a neighbor’s daughter-in-law had been injured and asking his son to deliver some leftover plaster and a crutch—that would be seen as an act of neighborly goodwill. No one could really fault it.
And besides… he couldn’t go in the morning. He’d have to wait until after noon.
With Zhou Shi’s loud mouth, she’d definitely spread the news all over the village by then. His father knowing about it wouldn’t seem strange.
Having made up his mind, Jiang Liao didn’t bother whether his father was asleep. He pushed the door open and went in.
“Dad? Dad! Wake up—I need to tell you something.”
His father muttered groggily, half-asleep, “What are you yelling for in the middle of the night… Can’t it wait till tomorrow?”
In a few brief sentences, Jiang Liao explained everything.
“It’s the Chen family’s daughter-in-law, Lin Suier. She twisted her ankle while digging for wild vegetables today—it’s badly swollen. You know what Chen Wenqi and his mother are like… they probably won’t take care of her. Don’t we still have that good medicinal plaster you used last year, and that crutch? Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll take them over for you—say it’s from you, being kind and thinking of the neighbor, just to help in an emergency.”
His father woke up more fully, fell silent for a moment, then sighed.
“The Chen family’s young wife? Sigh… she’s a pitiful one… Alright. The things are in that old wooden box by my kang bed. Take them yourself tomorrow. Go in the afternoon—don’t go at mealtime, or you’ll annoy people.”
“Got it, Dad.”
Jiang Liao responded, finally feeling a weight lift from his heart.
Back in his own room, he lay down fully clothed on the hard wooden bed.
But when he closed his eyes, Lin Suier’s face still lingered before him—
That pitiful yet alluring look when she lowered her head and softly called him “Brother Jiang.”
Irritated, Jiang Liao turned over, facing the cold earthen wall.
It’s just delivering medicine—don’t think about anything else!
But the more he warned himself, the clearer that slender waist, that soft touch…
Became, burrowing deep into his bones.
That night, Jiang Liao tossed and turned, barely getting any sleep.