“I’ve finished writing your love letter.
Should I give it to you now?”
Wen Yan’s tone was casual, as if she were asking, ‘Do you need a piece of paper?’ It held none of the shyness one would expect when talking about a love letter.
A mouthful of a coarse flour bun got stuck in Jiang Baizhou’s throat at Wen Yan’s words.
He forced it down, the corners of his eyes turning red from the effort.
His long, bright phoenix eyes, now glistening, fixed on Wen Yan.
Wen Yan froze.
‘Is he that moved?
Is he about to cry?’
‘I only spent two minutes writing that love letter.
Was that too half-hearted?’
Wen Yan began to critique herself, feeling as though she had just deceived an innocent young man.
One of them was wracked with guilt, while the other had nearly met an untimely end from choking.
But Jiang Baizhou had nerves of steel and a cunning mind.
He composed himself in an instant.
His eyes, which could look at a dog with deep affection, now seemed filled with a new soul.
His voice was brimming with a secretly delighted joy.
“Really?
I can’t wait to read it.
Let’s eat first, and I’ll read it properly after we’re done, okay?”
Wen Yan was already feeling guilty, so how could she say no?
She forced a smile and said, “Okay.”
She lowered her head and let out a quiet sigh.
‘Thank goodness Jiang Baizhou is so innocent; he’ll believe anything.’
‘Eat.
I’ll just eat first.’
‘A full stomach calms the nerves.’
Jiang Baizhou took in her every expression, finding her absolutely adorable.
Her face might as well have had the word “guilty” carved into it, outlined in red, and bolded.
When she was being direct, she was truly direct.
And when she was trying to “placate” someone, she made it perfectly clear that’s what she was doing.
Yet she possessed a strange magic that made it impossible to get angry with her.
Jiang Baizhou even felt that being placated by Wen Yan was a blissful experience.
‘It’s over for me,’ he thought.
‘I’m a goner.’
Jiang Baizhou’s lips curved into a pleased smile.
‘If my own wife is the one doing me in, so be it.’
“These are salted soybeans.
Do you want to try some?”
Jiang Baizhou pushed the container of dark salted soybeans toward Wen Yan.
“They’re not bad with congee.
You can try them.
If you don’t like them, you don’t have to eat them.”
Wen Yan looked up, her eyes crinkling into a smile.
“Okay.”
She tried one and savored it.
“They’re pretty good.
Salty, and a little chewy.”
Jiang Baizhou chuckled in agreement before taking a spoonful of plain rice congee.
‘Delicious.’
‘How long has it been since I’ve had pure rice congee?’
He savored the mouthful, reluctant to swallow.
Jiang Baizhou’s gaze swept over the bags arranged neatly by size in the corner.
“Did you bring food supplies with you?”
Wen Yan said, “My parents were worried I wouldn’t be used to the food here, so they packed a lot for me.”
When she was unpacking this morning, she had taken out everything the “system” had given her, except for the eggs and some of the cotton.
But the original owner’s parents really had brought a lot of things for her, along with a good amount of money and ration tickets.
Wen Yan hadn’t refused.
She was thinking about the famine year that was coming in a year’s time.
The original owner’s hometown was a major disaster area, and she planned to bring her family over.
“I’ll give you all our household money and tickets in a bit.
Just tell me whenever you want to go into the city to shop, and we can buy whatever we’re missing together.”
Hearing this, Wen Yan looked up and frowned.
“No need.
I have money.”
She was reluctant to accept Jiang Baizhou’s money and tickets.
‘I’m already deceiving him emotionally.
It wouldn’t be right to swindle his money too, would it?’
‘Maybe after I don’t feel so guilty, I’ll swindle him then…
no, I’ll just see how it goes.’
Jiang Baizhou’s heart and hands itched with the desire to pat her head, but first, he had to solve the problem of his wife refusing to take his money.
In the blink of an eye, Wen Yan saw Jiang Baizhou looking at her with a wronged expression.
Even the hair on his head seemed to droop.
His voice was thick with self-loathing.
“I know I don’t earn much.
Please don’t look down on me, okay?
I’ll work harder in the future.”
Wen Yan’s mouth opened and closed.
She shook her head repeatedly, her expression screaming ‘Don’t you dare slander me!’ “I’m not looking down on you!”
Jiang Baizhou asked cautiously, his voice full of hope, “Really?”
Wen Yan nodded like a bobblehead.
“Really!
I haven’t earned a single cent myself, so what right do I have to look down on you?”
‘I just want to be a good person!’
‘Why is it so hard?’
Jiang Baizhou seemed to let out a sigh of relief, his eyes brightening again.
“Wen Yan, you’re the best!”
Wen Yan: “…”
‘What have I done!’
Those four words were Wen Yan’s truest feeling.
She gave an awkward laugh, while Jiang Baizhou suppressed his own smile and continued to up the ante.
“Everyone else gives their money to their wives to manage.
The wife of Zhang Yingzhang next door gives him two yuan for pocket money every month.
I can’t lose to him.
Wen Yan, you can just give me fifty cents.”
Wen Yan was dumbfounded.
Her mind spun, but her lack of romantic EQ left her completely baffled.
‘Huh?’
But Jiang Baizhou nodded firmly.
“It’s settled then.
Any more than that wouldn’t be right.”
Wen Yan: “…”
It wasn’t until after they finished eating, with a stiff paper passbook from Jiang Baizhou in her hand that read “Four Hundred Fifty Yuan,” that Wen Yan finally snapped out of her daze.
‘He’s handed over his assets already?’
‘But I clearly didn’t want them, did I?’
“There are also some tickets and loose change here.
The money in the passbook is my bonus from missions.
My current monthly salary is seventy-three yuan.
I mail thirteen to my parents each month, which leaves sixty.
I used to mail fifty to you, keeping ten for myself, and the rest I deposited.”
Only then did Wen Yan remember.
‘That’s right.
The original owner had been receiving Jiang Baizhou’s stipend every month.
And when they got married, Jiang Baizhou also gave a three-hundred-yuan betrothal gift, plus another two hundred yuan in place of a bicycle and a watch.’
Because the original owner already had her own bicycle and watch, they didn’t buy new ones.
Fortunately, the original owner’s parents knew she was a spendthrift, so they only gave her ten yuan a month and saved the rest for her.
Unfortunately, the original owner was a complete romantic airhead, easily tricked and led around by a scumbag.
Jiang Baizhou held a stack of money and tickets tied with a hemp string.
Seeing that Wen Yan wasn’t taking it, he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together and, with a bit of a scheme in mind, took her hand.
The collision of rough against delicate, a searing touch with a hint of friction, snapped Wen Yan back to her senses.
Her eyes went wide and round.
Jiang Baizhou suppressed the unusual pounding of his heart and put on a serious expression.
He cradled the back of Wen Yan’s hand with his left palm and placed the stack of money and tickets into her right.
A gentle smile spread across his face.
“You manage our home.”
Wen Yan, who only knew how to be direct, was stumped for the first time.
She was so guilty!
“Okay, okay, okay.”
Wen Yan felt that the palm being held by Jiang Baizhou was drenched in the sweat of her guilt.
‘Jiang Baizhou is too good to me.
Shouldn’t I show some appreciation?’
Wen Yan at least understood the basic principle of reciprocity.
She thought back to her conversation with Captain Zhu and the group of soldiers earlier today.
They had mentioned that the soldiers’ frostbite was very severe.
Wen Yan’s gaze shifted downward, landing on Jiang Baizhou’s ankle.
‘Whoa, how can a grown man’s ankle be so good-looking?’
‘It was like the ankle of a man torn from the pages of a comic book—slender yet strong, dotted with faint blue veins, and a perfectly pronounced ankle bone.’
Wen Yan slowly exhaled, trying to get a look at Jiang Baizhou’s feet.
But after washing up, Jiang Baizhou had wrapped his feet up tightly, and she couldn’t see a thing.
Jiang Baizhou saw Wen Yan looking down, her gaze so intense it felt tangible on his ankle.
Inside his shoes, his toes curled uncomfortably.
He had chilblains on his feet; they weren’t a pretty sight.
He had kept his back to Wen Yan while washing his feet just now.
Jiang Baizhou: “What is it?”
Wen Yan looked up.
“Jiang Baizhou, get on the kang and take off your pants.”