Gu Mingyan vaguely sensed that he had misunderstood Jiang Lizhu. Their thoughts seemed to be on two separate, non-intersecting paths, running counter to each other, and they had nearly drifted further and further apart.
He had thought Jiang Lizhu’s coldness and resistance after marriage meant she regretted marrying him, or that from the moment she schemed to get married, she only wanted to use him, needing only the identity of a military spouse, regardless of who her husband was. But actually, it turned out Jiang Lizhu had been worried all along that he was angry and resented her.
Perhaps, in the early days of their marriage, he had brought the emotion of having his good intentions unexpectedly manipulated into their interactions, causing her to be afraid and misunderstand.
Afterwards, they only communicated through letters and telegrams. Those words were just words after all. Perhaps it wasn’t only he who felt they were cold; Jiang Lizhu might have felt the same way about him.
Come to think of it, it made sense. Jiang Lizhu, at such a young age, had experienced so many upheavals – her father being sent to the countryside for manual labor, her mother remarrying. They had married hastily, their understanding of each other was too shallow, and they carried unresolved emotions and misunderstandings. Neither could act like an ordinary married couple.
After the wedding, Jiang Lizhu, left alone in Su City, discovered she was pregnant. At that time, she must have been so scared and helpless, not daring to tell her family, not daring to tell him. This inevitably manifested in her letters, which became increasingly brief.
He had also been careless and inattentive. Before the Spring Festival, when Jiang Lizhu refused to return to his hometown with him to visit relatives, if he had noticed something was unusual about her and come to Su City to see her instead, he would have discovered her pregnancy, and the misunderstanding between them might have been resolved.
Instead, he misunderstood Jiang Lizhu’s coldness towards the marriage and him, while Jiang Lizhu, pregnant, bore it all alone, frightened and at a loss.
As an outstanding and capable military officer, Gu Mingyan was adept at self-reflection and self-criticism. “I was also wrong. I failed to understand your feelings, didn’t notice something was amiss with you, and couldn’t make you trust me more. I will work hard to improve.”
Jiang Lizhu blinked twice, roughly guessing what Gu Mingyan might have filled in with his imagination. After all, she had intentionally guided him this way, leaving almost no loopholes, enough to be self-justifying.
Of course, this was mainly because Gu Mingyan and the original host hadn’t spent much time together. They had met only a few times before marriage, and their time together after marriage was short, both carrying their own emotional baggage. This left room for Jiang Lizhu to maneuver.
Jiang Lizhu curved her eyes, revealing a faint smile, no longer serious, and said with a slightly coquettish tone, “Well then, since we were both wrong, let’s both work hard to improve.”
“Good,” Gu Mingyan nodded solemnly. His gaze shifted away, immediately turning to the topic that weighed more heavily on his mind. “Who were that man and woman making a scene in the courtyard? Do they always target you like this?”
He could extract information from the conversation he had overheard, but it wasn’t detailed enough.
As the Art of War states, know yourself and know your enemy, and you will never be defeated. Gu Mingyan wasn’t one to easily let go of those who bullied his wife and child.
Moreover, Gu Mingyan’s understanding of Jiang Lizhu was only superficial. He didn’t know about her being switched at birth with Xiao Jinzhu.
His mother-in-law, Ruan Yumin, wouldn’t specifically inform Gu Mingyan about this either. The original Jiang Lizhu had always minded others bringing up related topics.
Jiang Lizhu wasn’t the original host; her mindset was different. She believed it was quite necessary for Gu Mingyan, as her husband, to know. This could prevent many unnecessary problems.
Jiang Lizhu steadied her emotions slightly, then carefully recounted the story of her and Xiao Jinzhu being switched at birth and her subsequent return to her biological family. She also spoke of the difficult experiences before her arduous reunion, such as how her rural foster parents nearly sold her off for bride price.
“I detest Xiao Jinzhu and her parents’ family intensely. You are my husband. I don’t ask you to feel the same way I do, but I cannot allow you to side with her in any way. You did well today.”
Gu Mingyan listened quietly, watching as the pity in Jiang Lizhu’s eyes gradually grew, then was consciously restrained. He could sense Jiang Lizhu didn’t want pity in this regard.
He truly wasn’t good at comforting people either, so he simply nodded solemnly again. “I am your husband. Regarding this matter, both my son and I will unconditionally side with you.”
By unconditional, he meant whether Jiang Lizhu was reasonable or not, they would naturally side with and protect her. Matters related to Xiao Jinzhu and her circle didn’t involve national or political stances, so Gu Mingyan’s answer came without any hesitation.
Gu Mingyan was well aware of some backward customs in rural areas. He could imagine that Jiang Lizhu had encountered too much suffering, favoritism, and helplessness during her upbringing, which led her to make such a request – one that wasn’t really a request – to him so solemnly.
Jiang Lizhu had been switched at birth and mistreated since childhood; she was undoubtedly the biggest victim in this whole “incident.” Her resentment towards Xiao Jinzhu, the primary beneficiary, was only human.
Merely detesting her… As long as it didn’t cross legal boundaries, Gu Mingyan didn’t think it was necessary to stop Jiang Lizhu from expressing such feelings.
“Well said,” Jiang Lizhu revealed her first bright, radiant smile since their conversation began. The corners of her mouth lifted, her fox-like eyes curved into half-moons, and her light brown irises seemed dotted with stars, sparkling.
“My son naturally sides with me. Darling, why are you so well-behaved in your father’s arms?” Jiang Lizhu leaned over to look. The little one had already fallen asleep on Gu Mingyan’s shoulder, a large patch of saliva wetting his clothes.
“Asleep?” Gu Mingyan knew his son hadn’t been babbling for a while, and he hadn’t dared to move his body or arms an inch.
Jiang Lizhu stood up and walked to Gu Mingyan’s side. “Come, let me teach you how to put him down on the bed. Granny Li and Auntie Mei both say we can’t let him get used to being held to sleep, otherwise, he’ll throw tantrums later. I don’t have the strength to hold him for too long, so you absolutely can’t let him develop this bad habit.”
Gu Mingyan was in the military and would periodically have to go on missions, disappearing for half a month at a time. He wouldn’t have that much time to help her hold the baby.
Talking as she moved, Jiang Lizhu took the child, patted him gently twice to ensure he was still sleeping soundly, then walked to the bed. She slowly bent over, half-lying down on the bed with the child, and then gradually pulled out her two hands that had been holding him.
After covering the little one with his exclusive small blanket and patting him for a while longer, Jiang Lizhu straightened up and couldn’t help but pound her lower back again.
This whole pregnancy and childbirth thing really takes half your life. It was Jiang Lizhu’s first time experiencing such an unhealthy body, easily out of breath, with aches and pains everywhere.
“Next time, you can put it into practice,” Jiang Lizhu lowered her hands and moved aside so Gu Mingyan could continue looking at their son. “We can talk at a normal volume; there’s no need to be overly quiet. The courtyard will get lively again soon anyway.”
It was almost ten o’clock now. Soon, families would start preparing lunch, and students and workers would be returning for their midday meals or breaks, all of which would create some noise.
As long as people weren’t deliberately shouting right outside her window or door, the little one usually slept quite soundly.
Gu Mingyan could see many traces of both himself and Jiang Lizhu in their son’s features. “His hair, eyebrows, and eyes are like mine. His face shape and nose are like yours. His eyelashes are like yours too.”
He certainly didn’t have eyelashes as long as Jiang Lizhu’s, which were like two little fans. He silently added to himself that their son’s skin was also like Jiang Lizhu’s, a creamy white.
Even setting aside the natural bias of being his father, this was the cutest and most beautiful little baby he had ever seen. Every move, every breath, made his heart flutter and warm.
This was an unprecedented, unfamiliar, and novel feeling. It didn’t need to be cultivated or learned; it seemed innate, flowing in his blood, naturally awakening with the arrival of this little one.
“I hope he takes after you in height too,” Jiang Lizhu sighed softly. She had been working hard to improve her health, but her height was the one thing she was really unhappy with. She estimated she was only about 1.6 meters tall.
In her previous life, she had been a standard 1.68 meters tall, with a slender waist and long legs, a fantastic figure. Now, she could only comfort herself that her proportions were good, so she didn’t look too short.
Just because of this obvious lack in height, she had to detest that rural foster family just as much as the original host. They had starved and abused her as a child, stunting her growth.
“Mm, he will. What’s his formal name?” Gu Mingyan followed Jiang Lizhu and sat down by the bed, continuing their conversation, eager to know more about his son.
“I just call him Baobao. He doesn’t have a formal name yet. You should choose it, or you could let his grandparents choose. Hmm, just not something too awful or too common. Your name is okay,” Jiang Lizhu said. She really couldn’t accept her son being called something overly common like Jianguo or Hongqi.
The book didn’t say who named the little boy, or maybe she had just skimmed that part and forgotten. But regardless of who chose it, Jiang Lizhu didn’t want to use that name anymore.
“Then let’s have Second Uncle Chen from the village choose it. I’ll ask him to come up with a few options and let you pick,” Gu Mingyan said, the corners of his mouth lifting. He could roughly guess what Jiang Lizhu was worried about.
People in the village were even less particular about names. Names like Erdàn, Niú’er, or Dàniú were everywhere. Second Uncle Chen had attended a private school and was one of the few literate people in the village. He was the one who had chosen Gu Mingyan’s name.
Back then, Gu Mingyan had been able to enlist smoothly thanks to the recommendation of Second Uncle Chen, who was already the village Party secretary. It could be said that, besides his parents, Second Uncle Chen was the person he respected most.
Jiang Lizhu looked up and noticed a figure passing by the window. She stood up and said to Gu Mingyan, “It’s Auntie Mei.”
Jiang Lizhu opened the door and let Auntie Mei in. “Auntie’s here. This is Gu Mingyan, my husband. He came back today to see me and the baby.”
“Oh my! So handsome, so tall, so imposing! No wonder you’re an army cadre!” Auntie Mei’s eyes darted around as she couldn’t stop praising Gu Mingyan. Of course, she consciously kept her voice low.
For someone with her loud voice, even this lowered volume was louder than Jiang Lizhu’s normal speaking voice. Having visited daily, she certainly knew how much Jiang Lizhu cared about her son.
“You flatter me. Thank you for taking care of Lizhu and the child,” Gu Mingyan also stood up to acknowledge Auntie Mei’s enthusiasm.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Gu Mingyan continued sitting on the chair watching his son sleep, while Jiang Lizhu stripped the bed of sheets and pillowcases that probably didn’t really need washing yet.
Auntie Mei automatically came over to lend Jiang Lizhu a hand and couldn’t resist gossiping. “I heard… that so-and-so and what’s-her-name came and scared your son? Is he okay? They’re really something, thinking you’re easy to push around!”
Auntie Mei also knew Jiang Lizhu didn’t like hearing Xiao Jinzhu’s name. But using ‘so-and-so’ to refer to them while gossiping about that family? Jiang Lizhu seemed quite willing to listen.
She’s quite a character, Auntie Mei thought to herself, not for the first time.
“You’re really well-informed,” Jiang Lizhu admitted, impressed by Auntie Mei’s gossip skills. She looked down at her son, who was now back in her arms, her expression showing a hint of worry and anger. “My son is fine now, but if something really happened, I would fight back with everything I’ve got.”
“Mrs. Lin knows how to handle people. She’ll most likely come by to see you this evening,” Auntie Mei said, having some understanding of how the hospital director’s family operated.
As she worked, her eyes darted around, occasionally glancing at Gu Mingyan. She couldn’t help but gossip and wonder privately – with such an outstanding husband, how could Jiang Lizhu resist showing him off at all?
Were they a close couple or not? She really couldn’t tell.
“Oh,” Jiang Lizhu responded flatly, completely unmoved, and at the same time reminding Auntie Mei to mind her boundaries.