Since Sun Yang’s bowl of noodles hadn’t been touched yet, Zhao Chufeng didn’t stand on ceremony. He rolled up his sleeves, picked up the bowl, and slurped them down.
The warm noodles slid into his stomach, making him feel completely at ease. He let out a long sigh, as if he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days.
“Qiao’er, I went to the guesthouse where you were staying, and they said you’d checked out,” he said between mouthfuls, his voice muffled by the noodles in his mouth. “I searched for days, asking everywhere, but couldn’t find you. I was so worried.”
Lin Qiao’er felt a warmth in her heart, her voice tinged with guilt. “My things were stolen at the guesthouse, so I didn’t feel safe and went out to rent a place.”
Zhao Chufeng paused his chopsticks and looked up. “Stolen? What happened?”
Lin Qiao’er briefly recounted the events of that night.
After hearing her story, Zhao Chufeng slapped the table so hard that the bowls and chopsticks jumped. “That couple is downright wicked. Good thing you were alert. If it were someone else, who knows what might have happened.”
The angrier he got, the more the veins on his neck bulged.
Lin Qiao’er was startled by his outburst and quickly waved her hands. “It’s fine now. They’ve been caught.”
Zhao Chufeng was still fuming. He picked up the noodle bowl and took a big gulp of soup, barely managing to suppress his anger.
As he ate, he secretly shot glances at his brother, his eyes darting toward Lin Qiao’er and his eyebrows raised high.
Zhao Moting glanced at him expressionlessly and said calmly, “Is your eye twitching?”
Zhao Chufeng: “…”
Why was his brother so clueless?
Such a glaring third wheel, shining brightly right here, and he had no self-awareness?
No wonder he was still single at twenty-eight.
Lin Qiao’er didn’t understand their silent exchange and tilted her head to ask Zhao Chufeng, “Is your eye bothering you? Did something get in it?”
Zhao Chufeng chuckled awkwardly and scratched his head. “Yeah, yeah, just now some sand got in, but it’s fine now.”
He lowered his head and shoveled a few mouthfuls of noodles into his mouth, the tips of his ears quietly turning red.
Zhao Moting’s bowl of noodles was already empty.
He held his chopsticks, stirred them in the soup for a moment, stared at the bottom of the bowl for a few seconds, then suddenly put them down and stood up abruptly.
“I have something to attend to. I’ll head back first.”
Lin Qiao’er felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, nodding her head like a pecking chick. “Alright, alright, take care on your way.”
Zhao Chufeng looked up, grinning like a flower. “Brother, take it easy.”
Zhao Moting shot him a glare. “Come back early.”
With that, he turned and left.
Lin Qiao’er watched as he walked up to the noodle stall owner’s wife and took money out of his pocket.
She panicked, her face flushing red, and quickly stood up. “How can this be? I said I’d treat!”
Zhao Moting didn’t look back, handing the money to the owner’s wife.
The owner’s wife smiled, took it, and deftly gave him change.
Lin Qiao’er stood there, flustered and wringing her hands anxiously.
Zhao Moting took the change, then turned his face slightly and said calmly, “Next time.”
With that, he left.
His back was straight, his shoulders broad and waist narrow, standing out conspicuously in the bustling market.
Lin Qiao’er stared at his retreating figure for a few seconds before quickly averting her gaze and lowering her head to eat her noodles.
After Zhao Moting left, Zhao Chufeng looked at Lin Qiao’er’s lowered neck, his heart pounding uncontrollably.
After the two finished their noodles, Lin Qiao’er went to the state-run store to buy flour.
There weren’t many people in the store. She picked out a few pounds of white flour, and as soon as she picked it up, Zhao Chufeng reached out and took it from her.
“I’ll do it.” He hoisted the sack of flour onto his shoulder and patted his hands clean. “Qiao’er, I’ll carry it back for you. Where do you live?”
Lin Qiao’er opened her mouth, intending to refuse, but seeing the earnest look on his face, she swallowed her words.
Perhaps this was a good opportunity to clear things up.
They walked side by side.
The evening breeze carried a slight chill, rustling the plane trees along the roadside.
Zhao Chufeng suddenly spoke up: “I’m heading out on a trip tomorrow. It’s a long-distance run, so I probably won’t see you for a few days.”
Lin Qiao’er had never heard such straightforward words before. The tips of her ears flushed red instantly, and she turned her face away, pretending to look at the shops along the street.
“We can see each other when you get back,” she said softly.
Zhao Chufeng chuckled a couple of times and glanced down at her profile.
The evening sunlight fell on her face, illuminating the fine downy hairs until they seemed to glow.
His heart suddenly began to race, thumping loudly as if someone were beating a drum inside his chest.
He had so much to say, but when the moment came, he didn’t know where to begin.
They walked for a while, and the surroundings gradually grew quiet. The alley was mostly empty, with only a few distant barks from dogs breaking the silence.
Zhao Chufeng took a deep breath, as if steeling himself, and suddenly stopped.
“Qiao’er.”
Lin Qiao’er stopped as well and turned to look at him.
Zhao Chufeng gazed into her eyes—those large, bright eyes like two clear springs reflecting the evening glow on the horizon.
His face flushed all the way down to his neck, and his voice trembled slightly: “Qiao’er, I like you. Would… would you like to be with me?”
Lin Qiao’er froze.
Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened and closed without a sound.
Her heart pounded fiercely, and her palms grew sweaty.
She bit her lip, hesitating for a long time. She glanced around to make sure no one else was in the alley before stammering out her words.
“I… I’m a widow.”
Her voice was as faint as a mosquito’s hum. “And I’m already three months pregnant.”
After saying it all in one breath, she lowered her head. Her eyelashes fluttered like a butterfly with broken wings, so fragile it seemed a gust of wind could scatter her.
In this era, being pregnant out of wedlock was considered a crime of indecency.
She didn’t dare tell the truth and could only lie, claiming to be a widow.
She didn’t want to deceive Chu Feng.
Chu Feng was a good man—she couldn’t take advantage of him.
The two stood facing each other, neither speaking.
The wind swept in from the mouth of the alley, lifting the stray hairs at Lin Qiao’er’s temples.
She waited for a moment, but when no response came, her heart sank.
She took a deep breath, raised her head, and said in a strained voice, “Just give me the flour. I can carry it back myself.”
But Zhao Chufeng didn’t move.
He stood there, stunned for a long moment, then wiped the sweat from his forehead with his hand. Suddenly, he grew anxious: “Qiao’er, don’t misunderstand! It’s not that I look down on you, I’m just… just a little surprised.”
He swallowed hard, his voice growing louder with urgency. “As long as you’re willing to marry me, I’ll treat this child as my own.”
Lin Qiao’er’s lips trembled, and her eyes reddened instantly. “You… you really don’t mind?”
Zhao Chufeng looked solemn and nodded firmly. “I don’t mind.”
Tears welled up in Lin Qiao’er’s eyes. She fought hard to keep them from falling. Her nails dug into her palms, leaving red marks.
Zhao Chufeng set the flour sack on the ground, reached out, and took her hands in his.
Her hands were rough, her palms covered in thin calluses, her knuckles thick and coarse—nothing like the hands of a twenty-year-old girl.
As he felt those calluses, his heart twisted as if gripped by an invisible hand.
Orphaned since childhood, she had lived under her uncle’s roof, surviving on their charity.
How much hardship had she endured over the years?
His voice was firm. “I’ll convince my parents. We’ll say this child is mine.”
He glanced down at her belly.
She wore a plain shirt, and being slender, her three-month pregnancy was still barely visible.
Lin Qiao’er followed his gaze and instinctively covered her stomach.
In another month or two, it would be impossible to hide.
But if she married Chu Feng, the child could be born with a rightful name.
Her eyes reddened without her realizing it, and she choked out, “Thank you, Chu Feng.”
Zhao Chufeng’s eyes widened in delighted surprise, his voice rising with emotion. “Qiao’er, you really agree to marry me?”
Lin Qiao’er nodded shyly, a faint blush spreading across her fair cheeks like peach blossoms in March.
Zhao Chufeng grinned, his eyes crinkling into slits, revealing a row of white teeth.
He wanted to jump for joy right then and there, but afraid of startling her, he held himself back, his face flushing with the effort.
“Then tomorrow, I’ll have my mother come to propose,” he promised, thumping his chest.
The setting sun bathed the entire alley in golden light, casting its glow over the two of them.
Their shadows on the ground stood shoulder to shoulder, and from a distance, they truly looked like a young married couple.