Lin Wanxing insisted that Gu Jianfeng sleep on the kang, but he adamantly refused.
Terrified of hurting Lin Wanxing, afraid she would feel pain, afraid she would cry.
Gu Jianfeng’s handsome bronze face was full of stubbornness.
Lin Wanxing could see that on this issue, he was extremely resolute.
She also could indeed use a bit more psychological preparation; there was no need to push for today…
Getting to know each other better was fine too.
Lin Wanxing lay down on the kang calmly.
Since the floor was cooler and he slept well there, and Gu Jianfeng preferred it, she let him be.
She didn’t insist further.
So, one slept on the kang, the other on the floor, a few steps apart.
No lamp was lit in the room. Only moonlight seeped through the red paper pasted on the window lattice, casting mottled patterns on the floor.
Lin Wanxing stared with open eyes at the dark roof beams, listening to Gu Jianfeng’s even breathing from the floor, searching for sleep.
After a while, Gu Jianfeng’s breathing became somewhat disordered, mixed with faint, suppressed sounds.
Lin Wanxing turned her head, looking toward the floor by the moonlight.
Gu Jianfeng was lying on his side, his back to her, body curled up, seemingly trembling slightly.
“Jianfeng?” she called softly.
The sounds from the floor instantly stopped.
A few seconds later, Gu Jianfeng answered gruffly: “…Yeah.”
“What’s wrong? Are you uncomfortable?”
“…N-no, I’m not.”
But his voice clearly wasn’t right, carrying suppression and discomfort.
Lin Wanxing sat up, pushed the quilt aside, stepped barefoot onto the floor, and walked to his side.
In the moonlight, she could see Gu Jianfeng’s tightly furrowed brow and the fine beads of sweat on his forehead.
His hands were clenched tightly over his groin, his body stiff as a rock.
“Jianfeng,” Lin Wanxing squatted down, softening her voice further, “what’s wrong? Tell me the truth.”
Gu Jianfeng opened his eyes.
In the moonlight, his eyes were bloodshot, filled with pain, shame, and struggle.
“I…” his voice was hoarse, “I… feel terrible…”
Lin Wanxing understood instantly.
He was a normal man, young and strong, full of vigor.
On his wedding night, with a beauty beside him, yet held back by that ridiculous concern, afraid to cross the boundary.
Holding back for so long, of course he felt terrible.
“You…” Lin Wanxing hesitated for a moment but still asked, “Is it… there… uncomfortable?”
Gu Jianfeng’s face instantly flushed blood-red.
He snapped his eyes shut, not daring to look at her, but nodded.
Lin Wanxing felt both amused and helpless.
“Jianfeng,” she reached out, gently patting his shoulder, “you… don’t force yourself to endure. It’s not good for your health.”
Gu Jianfeng’s body trembled.
He opened his eyes and looked at Lin Wanxing.
In the moonlight, she squatted beside him, wearing her white cotton sleepwear, long hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes clear.
“I…” his Adam’s apple bobbed, “I…”
Lin Wanxing was silent for a few seconds.
Then, she said softly: “You… you can… handle it yourself.”
Gu Jianfeng was stunned: “H-handle it myself?”
“Mm.” Lin Wanxing nodded, her cheeks also a bit warm.
But she tried to keep her voice sounding calm. “I mean… with your hand. That way… you’ll feel better.”
Gu Jianfeng’s face “whooshed” into an even hotter blush.
Of course, he knew what “with your hand” meant.
In the army, the married veterans would occasionally talk crudely in private; he’d overheard.
But he’d never tried it himself.
Partly out of shame, and partly… he always felt it was wrong.
“I… I can’t…” he shook his head in panic, “that… that’s not proper…”
“It’s normal.” Lin Wanxing cut him off, her tone serious. “Jianfeng, you’re a normal man. Having such needs is normal. Always suppressing it will make you sick.”
She paused, looking into his panicked eyes, and continued: “And… it’s not improper. It’s human instinct.”
Gu Jianfeng stared at her blankly.
In the moonlight, her face was so calm, so serious, as if speaking of the most ordinary matter.
No disdain, no disgust.
Only understanding and… concern?
The tightly wound string in his heart suddenly loosened a little.
“R-really… is it really okay?” His voice was hoarse, uncertain.
“Really.” Lin Wanxing nodded firmly. “Try it. You’ll feel better.”
After saying this, she stood up, returned to the kang, and lay down with her back to him.
“I’m going to sleep,” she said softly. “You… handle it yourself.”
Then, she closed her eyes.
But she could hear faint rustling sounds from the floor.
And Gu Jianfeng’s suppressed, ragged breathing.
The sounds were especially clear in the quiet night.
Lin Wanxing’s face burned too.
Though she had lived two lifetimes, she was still a woman. Faced with such a scene, she couldn’t be completely unmoved.
She could only squeeze her eyes shut tightly, forcing herself not to think about it.
She didn’t know how much time passed. The sounds from the floor gradually ceased.
There came the sound of Gu Jianfeng letting out a long, deep breath.
Then, the rustle of fabric—he was probably tidying up.
Another moment later, everything returned to silence.
Only the somewhat disordered breathing of both of them intertwined in the night.
Lin Wanxing heard Gu Jianfeng turn over, facing her side.
She could feel his gaze resting on her back.
Searing, carrying an emotion she couldn’t quite name.
“Wanxing,” he suddenly spoke, his voice low and husky, carrying a post-release languor and a hint of bashfulness, “…thank you.”
Lin Wanxing didn’t turn around, just softly hummed an acknowledgment.
“I…” Gu Jianfeng paused before continuing, “I’ll… find a way in the future. I will definitely… make sure you… don’t feel pain.”
He spoke haltingly, but his tone held his characteristic stubbornness and determination.
Lin Wanxing’s heart softened.
“Mm.” She acknowledged again. “Sleep now.”
“Okay.”
Gu Jianfeng agreed, then fell silent.
The room grew quiet once more.
Moonlight flowed silently, painting the shadow of the window lattice on the floor.
In the distance, a few barks from dogs sounded, then quickly subsided.
The night deepened.
Lin Wanxing lay with her eyes closed, yet still wide awake.
She could smell the faint, lingering musk in the air.
She could also feel that gaze behind her still searingly fixed on her back.
She knew something between her and Gu Jianfeng had already started to change.
No longer just simple duty and gratitude.
But something more… something else.
Something she hadn’t fully figured out yet, but that had quietly begun to grow.
Meanwhile, Gu Jianfeng, lying on the floor, also had his eyes open, looking at the slender back on the kang.
The moonlight outlined the curves of her body—so soft, so lovely.
He remembered her voice earlier, so calm, so gentle.
He also remembered his own loss of control earlier and… release.
His face burned again.
But in his heart, an unprecedented, scalding emotion surged up.
Wanxing…
He silently repeated her name in his heart.
Then, slowly closed his eyes.
Unknowingly, the corners of his mouth curved up in a tiny, faint arc.
That night, both of them slept rather restlessly.
But the reasons were completely different.
…
Dawn, 5 AM.
The sky was just beginning to lighten.
On the distant horizon, the pale white of dawn glimmered. A few stubborn remnant stars still hung in the deep blue, velvet-like sky, like grains of salt accidentally scattered.
Hongxing Production Brigade was immersed in the deepest silence before dawn.
Only the sparrows in the old locust tree at the village entrance, early risers, began chirping tentatively with their first calls, sounding especially crisp in the cool morning mist.
In the east wing of the Gu family compound, the bridal chamber with the red double happiness character pasted on it, the red candles had long burned out, leaving only a solidified, irregularly shaped puddle of red wax tears on the windowsill.
The room was dim, the air still carrying the unique scent left by the burnt-out red candles from last night.
Lin Wanxing was awakened by a faint rustling sound.
She had always been a light sleeper, a habit from her previous life running around film sets—the slightest stir could wake her.
The moment she opened her eyes, she was momentarily dazed.
Low roof beams, earthen walls papered with old newspapers, a bright red quilt cover printed with mandarin ducks playing in water, and the hard-packed earthen kang beneath her…
Memory flooded back.
She had transmigrated into a book.
She’d just married Gu Jianfeng yesterday.
And now, that faint, deliberately hushed rustling was coming from below the kang.
Lin Wanxing didn’t get up immediately. She simply turned her head slightly, peering toward the source of the sound in the weak predawn light filtering through the red paper on the window lattice.
Then, she froze.
Gu Jianfeng was squatting on the floor not far from the edge of the kang.
He wore only the army-issued green undershirt and a pair of faded army green trousers. On his feet were worn-out Liberation shoes, their laces tied neatly.
On the floor in front of him was spread a thick layer of dry wheat straw—left over from cleaning up the yard after yesterday’s wedding feast, not yet moved to the firewood shed.
On top of the wheat straw lay a semi-old army green cotton mattress, its corners frayed to whiteness but washed clean, folded square and straight as required in the army.
And now, Gu Jianfeng was carefully, meticulously spreading another similarly semi-old army green quilt over the mattress.
His movements were light, slow, as if afraid of making the slightest noise.
After spreading it, he used his palm to smooth the quilt’s surface back and forth several times until it lay as flat as a block of tofu.
Only after finishing this did he straighten up.
Then, as if sensing something, he suddenly turned his head to look toward the kang.
He met Lin Wanxing’s clear eyes, still bright even in the dim light.
Their gazes locked.
Gu Jianfeng asked somewhat sheepishly: “Did I wake you?”
Lin Wanxing propped herself up on her arms, slowly sitting up.
Her jet-black hair tumbled somewhat disheveled over her shoulders, setting off her face—even paler in the dawn light—with a breathtaking beauty.
Looking at the simple yet neatly arranged bedding on the floor, a mix of emotions churned within her.
She spoke, her voice slightly hoarse from sleep: “Did you sleep well last night?”
Gu Jianfeng lowered his head, his voice muffled: “Very well. The floor is cool.”
“During army training marches, I’ve slept in open fields, on snow… this… this is already very good.”
Lin Wanxing didn’t reply.
She simply watched him quietly.
Watched the bulging muscle lines beneath his faded undershirt.
And the badly worn Liberation shoes on his feet.
The toes had already split open a small gap, clumsily stitched with thick thread a few times; the stitches were crooked, clearly his own awkward handiwork.
This was Gu Jianfeng.
The future big shot from the original book, who achieved high status at a young age, even more accomplished than the male lead, Gu Jianbin.
But now, he was just a man sleeping on the floor on his wedding night, terrified and uneasy because of his extraordinary endowment, too afraid to even look his new bride in the eye—clumsy yet innocent.
Lin Wanxing pursed her lips helplessly.
She pushed aside the quilt, about to get off the kang.
Seeing this, Gu Jianfeng hurriedly took two steps forward, then stopped, his hands unsure where to place themselves.
“You… what do you want? I… I’ll do it…”
Lin Wanxing had already stepped barefoot onto the slightly cool earthen floor.
Without shoes, she walked to stand before him, looking up.
“Jianfeng.” Her voice was soft, yet clear. “We are husband and wife.”
Gu Jianfeng’s body stiffened.
“Husband and wife should sleep in the same bed.” Lin Wanxing continued, her gaze calm as she looked at him. “What is this, you sleeping on the floor? What will people think if they see?”
“I…” Gu Jianfeng’s mouth opened, “I’m not afraid of what others say… I, I’m afraid… afraid you’ll be uncomfortable…”
“What makes me uncomfortable isn’t where I sleep,” Lin Wanxing interrupted him, her tone carrying a hint of seriousness, “it’s you avoiding me like this.”
She paused, watching the instant panic in his eyes, and softened her tone: “Jianfeng, I know what you’re worried about. Last night… you already told me.”
Gu Jianfeng’s face flushed so red it seemed about to combust.