Jiang Lizhu’s eyes curved into a slight smile. She was very satisfied with Gu Mingyan’s candidness at this moment and felt it necessary to give him a reward to encourage him to continue being so open.
She really couldn’t be bothered to deal with the hassle of taking care of a child while also having to constantly guess what Gu Mingyan was thinking.
Although guessing people’s thoughts wasn’t difficult for Jiang Lizhu, who wouldn’t prefer to live a simpler life?
Jiang Lizhu leaned forward, pressing her left hand onto the pillow beside Gu Mingyan’s neck. Bending down, she accurately kissed him on the lips.
Three minutes later, physically exhausted, Jiang Lizhu rolled back over and accurately raised her hand to cover Gu Mingyan’s lips as he leaned in to follow her.
Hmm, one should never underestimate an outstanding soldier’s learning ability and power of execution. Beneath Gu Mingyan’s innocent exterior, he wasn’t all that docile; or rather, no man truly is.
“Doctor Wang said I can’t get pregnant again for three years,” Jiang Lizhu said, removing her hand from his mouth. She used this reasonable explanation, as the experience on the night she traveled here had left her filled with fear and dread about childbirth.
At this stage, she didn’t want to have another child. But in this era, families willing to have only one child were ultimately a minority. For now, with Doctor Wang’s medical advice, she wasn’t in a hurry to discuss this topic with Gu Mingyan.
In the darkness, Gu Mingyan’s peach-blossom eyes were startlingly bright. He lowered his head again, then turned slightly, replying near Jiang Lizhu’s ear, “I remember. Trust me.”
At this moment, in this situation, all he wanted was to kiss Jiang Lizhu. Nothing more.
After a long while, not hearing any further response from Jiang Lizhu, Gu Mingyan turned his head, found her slightly warm, slightly swollen, yet incredibly soft lips, and controlled himself to use an even lighter, gentler force, kissing her back just as she had initially kissed him.
Jiang Lizhu’s heart pounded fiercely. She felt as if she were melting entirely under Gu Mingyan’s overly tender and affectionate kiss. Unconsciously, she half-raised both hands to wrap around his neck.
A long, long time passed before Gu Mingyan finally regained his reason and restraint. He released Jiang Lizhu’s lips and rolled back over to his own side of the bed.
After another moment, Gu Mingyan whispered, “Goodnight.” This was something he had wanted to reply for the past several nights when Jiang Lizhu had said goodnight to him, but had never been able to utter.
Jiang Lizhu didn’t answer. Silently, she pulled the quilt up to cover her overly flushed and hot cheeks. Here she was, someone who had transmigrated from a future era into a book, yet she had been outdone in kissing skills by Gu Mingyan. How embarrassing.
In the silent but not awkward darkness, Jiang Lizhu didn’t dwell on it for long before drowsiness enveloped her, and she fell into a deep sleep.
It took Gu Mingyan a considerable time to get his breathing back to normal, but some of the body’s automatic reactions weren’t so easy to calm down.
Sure that Jiang Lizhu was asleep, Gu Mingyan got up nimbly, walked accurately into the bathroom in the dark, closed the door, and quickly took a cold shower.
Lying back in bed, Gu Mingyan turned onto his side. Before long, Jiang Lizhu automatically rolled into his arms.
“Baby…” Jiang Lizhu, accustomed to sleeping while holding her child these past few nights, often mistakenly took Gu Mingyan for her baby in her sleep.
Of course, the feel and body temperature were too different, and Jiang Lizhu would usually turn back quickly. But today, she had rushed to finish work and was genuinely exhausted. Plus, Gu Mingyan had “schemingly” taken that cold shower.
On this midsummer night, Jiang Lizhu instinctively preferred this cooler temperature, so she continued sleeping while holding onto Gu Mingyan.
Gu Mingyan raised his arm to hold Jiang Lizhu back. His eyes remained closed, a slight smile curving his lips. Lulled by the sounds of his son’s and Jiang Lizhu’s breathing, he too fell into a deep slumber.
…
Gu Mingyan knew Jiang Lizhu had been genuinely tired these past few days. That night and the next morning when their son woke up, he was quickest to soothe the boy without disturbing Jiang Lizhu. Then, skillfully, he prepared milk, fed the baby, changed diapers, and so on, allowing Jiang Lizhu to enjoy a full night’s sleep for the first time in a while.
Around eight in the morning, well-rested and fully awake, Jiang Lizhu opened her eyes. The room contained only her and the still-sleeping little one.
But the several large packages that had been piled on the floor, ready to be mailed, were gone. Jiang Lizhu immediately knew what Gu Mingyan, who had disappeared upon her waking, had gone to do.
Jiang Lizhu got up, went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. On her way back, she passed by the desk, then retreated to it. A page held down by a food container bore several lines of dashing, flamboyant handwriting.
A smile tugged at the corners of Jiang Lizhu’s mouth as she reached out to open the food container. Inside were two Sanxian juicy soup dumplings—the breakfast Gu Mingyan had specially gone to the central street state-run restaurant to buy for her.
These soup dumplings were a Suzhou specialty snack Jiang Lizhu had once mentioned to Gu Mingyan in passing, then forgotten all about, never having had the chance to take him to try them.
Jiang Lizhu savored them happily, a broad smile on her face, while inwardly reminding herself to be more vigilant. Gu Mingyan was too skilled, too adept at knowing how to “win her over.”
An hour later, Gu Mingyan returned to the East Courtyard. Jiang Lizhu was holding their son in the courtyard, basking in the sun. This was their last chance to leisurely enjoy the sun like this in Suzhou; at this time tomorrow, they’d be on the train.
“I’m back. The luggage has all been sent off. These are the photos from the studio—they turned out very well,” Gu Mingyan said, stopping in front of Jiang Lizhu and their son. He took a blank envelope from his pocket and opened it in front of them.
He hadn’t just gone to the post office to mail the packages; he had also gone to the newly opened photo studio to pick up the photos. Because they had printed many copies, the blank envelope looked quite substantial.
“You worked hard,” Jiang Lizhu said, leaning sideways to peek. Gu Mingyan followed the momentum and squatted down beside her and began showing the photos from the envelope one by one.
When Gu Mingyan picked up the photos at the studio, he had already looked at them for a long time. In the pictures, Jiang Lizhu and their son shared identical brilliant, sweet smiles—stunningly beautiful and heartwarming, almost impossible to tire of viewing.
After seeing the photos, Jiang Lizhu, who had initially been somewhat distrustful of this era’s photography technology, was completely reassured. Both her group photos and solo shots looked very good.
Her looks were so divinely beautiful that even these old photos couldn’t diminish them. Jiang Lizhu happily praised herself inwardly before shifting her attention to Gu Mingyan and their son in the pictures.
“The master photographer told us all to smile, so why weren’t you smiling? Look how well the baby cooperated,” Jiang Lizhu deliberately teased. In the photo, Gu Mingyan wasn’t smiling, but his gaze was very gentle, carrying the era’s characteristic restrained and steady temperament, which was very appealing.
Gu Mingyan pondered for a moment before saying, “The baby takes after you.” While their son’s features resembled his more, his already evident cheerful personality was entirely like Jiang Lizhu.
Jiang Lizhu loved hearing this. She looked up, meeting Gu Mingyan’s gaze, and her mind involuntarily flashed back to the passionate kiss from the night before. A light blush colored her pretty face.
The corners of Gu Mingyan’s mouth lifted into a slight smile. Just in time, before Jiang Lizhu could get annoyed, he changed the subject.
“Company Commander came to the East Courtyard before work. He invited us to his home for dinner this evening as a farewell. If we didn’t go, he said he’d come back to invite us again this evening, so I agreed,” Gu Mingyan said with a hint of helplessness. He had originally wanted to wait until Jiang Lizhu woke up to ask her opinion before replying.
But his old company commander’s hospitality was too sincere to refuse, so Gu Mingyan had accepted.
He vaguely remembered that dinner gathering last year; Jiang Lizhu hadn’t seemed very happy. She remained silent throughout and ate very little.
“Then let’s go. We’ll buy some meat and vegetables and arrive a bit early,” Jiang Lizhu mused. This approach would be more in keeping with the social conventions of this era.
“Mm, I’ll go buy them,” Gu Mingyan nodded lightly, not dwelling on it further. He decided to consider this trip to Suzhou as the time he truly got to know Jiang Lizhu; there was no need to over-analyze past matters.
“You go wash your hands and change clothes, then hold the baby. I need to write some letters. Later, when you go buy groceries, you can also run an errand for me to the post office,” Jiang Lizhu calculated. There was quite a lot to do today.
She had three letters to write—one each for her father, mother, and brother. She needed to do a final check of the luggage and medicines to take on the train. She also had to wait for the auntie from the neighboring compound, who had paid a deposit, to come with her son to pick up the sewing machine and pay the remaining balance.
At her desk, Jiang Lizhu picked up her pen and swiftly wrote out the contents she had been mentally drafting for days. First came the necessary greetings, congratulations on becoming maternal grandparents and an uncle. Then she explained her psychological process for not immediately informing them about her pregnancy, and offered a sincere apology.
Finally, she informed them that she would soon be accompanying Gu Mingyan back to his hometown to visit relatives, and then heading south with him to the military garrison.
“Is there anything you’d like to say to my parents and brother? Why not add it to the letters?” Jiang Lizhu asked, turning her head to look at Gu Mingyan, who was gently patting their son’s back to help him burp.
Gu Mingyan reflected. Since their marriage until now, he had only contacted Ruan Yumin in the other military region—and that was a very brief phone call about specific matters. It really was necessary to formally greet Jiang Lizhu’s family in writing.
“Alright,” Gu Mingyan handed their son, who had just burped, to Jiang Lizhu. He sat down at the desk, quickly scanned Jiang Lizhu’s elegant and refined handwriting, and paused for a long moment before picking up the pen to add to the end of the letters.
He felt he should bear more than half the responsibility for the fact that Jiang Lizhu hadn’t told any family members during her pregnancy and childbirth. He couldn’t let her bear it alone.
Gu Mingyan explained the situation from his perspective and offered his apology and assurances. Putting it in writing, he knew Jiang Lizhu’s family would want to see these words penned by his own hand.
…
By evening, all planned tasks were completed. Gu Mingyan, carrying their little one who had just woken up in a front carrier, held two jin of pork belly, a fish, and a bag of fruit in his right hand. His left hand was held by Jiang Lizhu as they walked to the home of Xiong Dongjun, the captain of the police brigade.
Xiong Dongjun had specifically taken half a day off to personally cook. He had checked the time several times and was just about to go fetch them himself when his door was knocked on.
“Company Commander…”
Before Gu Mingyan could finish his greeting, Xiong Dongjun pulled open the door, which had been left slightly ajar. “Old Gu, Sister-in-law, come in quickly! Why are you being so polite with your old brother, bringing things…”
“True politeness wouldn’t have meant not coming at all,” Gu Mingyan replied with a smile, then looked towards the woman approaching from the living room balcony. “Hello, Sister-in-law. This is my wife, Lizhu, and our son.”
“Captain, Sister-in-law, hello,” Jiang Lizhu greeted Xiong Dongjun and his wife with a slight smile. “Baby, say hello to Uncle and Auntie.”
Jiang Lizhu grabbed their little one’s chubby little hand and waved it, simultaneously shifting him down from Gu Mingyan’s chest. She wasn’t very familiar with the couple; she mainly let Gu Mingyan do the chatting.
“Oh my! You have a son… Old Xiong! Why didn’t you tell me?” Xiong Dongjun’s wife, Wang Lele, was a classic example of a daughter from the Jiangnan water town—gentle and pretty in appearance, but that was before she spoke.
Wang Lele smacked Xiong Dongjun on the back. The sound alone indicated considerable force, though she consciously held back a little. “Sister, I’m so sorry. Neither Old Xiong nor I have been to see you.”
Wang Lele was a native Suzhou local. Her husband, Xiong Dongjun, had been one of the police officers handling Jiang Lizhu’s family tracing case, so she had long heard about Jiang Lizhu’s situation.
Last year, because of the comrade-in-arms relationship between her husband and Gu Mingyan, she had paid even more attention to matters concerning Jiang Lizhu. However, she happened to be away during that dinner party last year, though Xiong Dongjun had specifically gone to the police station near the hospital to put in a good word.