The sun was setting in the west.
Song Wanxi sat on a stool in the front courtyard, learning to fold spirit money with Sister Feng and a group of village women. They were meant to be burned for Grandpa that evening.
Wherever women gathered, it became the village’s news hub—covering everything from whose husband was cheating, down to how many puppies the stray dog at the village entrance had whelped. Nothing escaped their precise coverage.
“Why hasn’t your grandfather been buried yet?” one woman asked Song Wanxi.
Song Wanxi shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Sister Feng leaned in, lowering her voice and glancing around warily as if afraid of being overheard. “You Chen hasn’t come back yet. I heard he went on some mountain adventure and won’t return for a few days.”
“A few days? By then, her grandfather will have started to stink.” The woman pursed her lips in disdain. “What an unfilial descendant.”
You Chen was You Jin’s younger half-brother.
An arrogant, unruly, playboy type who took nothing seriously.
“Hey, who’s that?” Sister Feng straightened up and pointed at the car pulling to a stop ahead.
All the women turned in unison to look where she was pointing. Song Wanxi did the same.
“Oh my god!” Sister Feng was stunned by what she saw and slapped her thigh with a loud cry.
Immediately, all the women turned to look at Song Wanxi, their eyes filled with sympathy and unspoken meaning.
Song Wanxi looked at the scene ahead, and an involuntary dull ache pressed against her chest. Her breathing felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and the hands folding paper money went slightly numb.
Wu Weiwei got out of the car and threw herself into You Jin’s arms, clinging tightly to his waist, sobbing into his chest.
“Ah Jin, how could Grandpa just leave like that? It’s so sudden… When I got the news, I cried the whole way here, wuwu… Grandpa was always so healthy, why? He was such a good person, and he doted on us younger ones so much, wuwu…”
Song Wanxi withdrew her gaze and lowered her head to continue folding paper money.
In a conservative, gossipy place like the countryside, behavior like You Jin’s and Wu Weiwei’s would give these women enough material to discuss for half a lifetime over tea, perhaps even spinning it into a spectacular affair drama.
Sister Feng nudged Song Wanxi’s knee with her own, looking at her with a mix of frustration and disappointment. She gritted her teeth and muttered, “Ah Jin’s wife, that little vixen from the Wu family dares to hug your husband like that, and you’re not even angry? If it were me, I’d charge over, grab her by the hair, and slap her a few good times.”
After Sister Feng finished through clenched teeth, her hand unconsciously swiped through the air twice.
How could she not be angry?
But her relationship with You Jin didn’t even grant her the right to be jealous, let alone fight back.
“Hey, hey, hey, look at that.” A woman pointed ahead in a hushed but urgent voice, clearly excited.
Song Wanxi didn’t want to look anymore. Grandpa’s death was already hard enough to bear.
“Oh my god! Ah Jin just carried that little vixen into the house?” Sister Feng slapped her thigh, standing up in a mix of indignation and nosiness, tossing aside the spirit money in her hands. “I’m going in to see what’s going on.”
Sister Feng left, and the other women fell silent, quietly observing Song Wanxi’s expression while exchanging gossip through their eyes.
If Song Wanxi hadn’t been there, they would have spun this into a full-blown drama.
A few minutes later, Sister Feng came running back like a scout, patting Song Wanxi’s hand. “Ah Jin’s wife, turns out that little vixen from the Wu family has been dieting to lose weight. She hasn’t eaten much these past few days. She said she cried the whole way here, and just now she fainted from grief right in your husband’s arms.”
The woman curled her lips and sneered coldly. “Tsk, fainted from grief? Anyone watching would think she’s the one married to Ah Jin.”
“Ah Jin’s wife is just too easygoing.” Sister Feng patted the back of Song Wanxi’s hand. “You can’t keep being like this. Your husband will be stolen away by some outside vixen sooner or later.”
Song Wanxi pressed her lips into a faint smile. “Don’t misunderstand. You Jin and Wu Weiwei are just good friends who grew up together.”
Her heart was bleeding, yet she still had to pretend nothing was wrong.
This was the first time she had defended You Jin—and the last.
But who would believe her words anyway?
The night grew deep.
The second young master of the You family still hadn’t returned. Everyone discussed adding ice bricks around the deceased grandfather’s coffin to prevent the body from decomposing.
Tonight, Grandpa’s two sons and some villagers were taking turns keeping vigil. Song Wanxi couldn’t fight off her drowsiness any longer and dragged her weary steps back to the room.
She closed the door.
You Jin had just come out of the bathroom.
Below his powerful waist, he wore only a white towel. His broad, solid chest muscles and the sharply defined lines of his abdominal muscles radiated an intense masculine presence.
His half-dried short hair accentuated his deep, handsome features, adding a touch of wildness to his look.
The moment their eyes met.
He froze slightly.
Song Wanxi’s heart fluttered in panic, her gaze having nowhere to rest. She quickly averted her eyes to look elsewhere, her feet rooted to the spot by the door.
Every time they returned to the countryside, she had to share the same room with him.
This was the most awkward and uncomfortable time for Song Wanxi.
You Jin’s eyes darkened as he walked toward the wardrobe. “Where are my clothes?”
His voice was soft, and cold.
Song Wanxi pointed at the wardrobe. “In the black duffel bag. I haven’t taken them out yet.”
You Jin opened the wardrobe door, pulled out the duffel bag, and set it on the stool at the foot of the bed.
He pulled open the zipper and took out the casual suit from the top. Perhaps looking for underwear, he rummaged through the bag for a moment.
His hand froze for a few seconds before slowly pulling out a light pink bra, his eyes filled with shock.
Song Wanxi saw her bra appear in You Jin’s hand, and her face instantly burned. Her heart pounded like a deer crashing against her chest. Flustered and embarrassed, she rushed over, snatched her bra back quickly, and hid it behind her in a panic.
Standing too close, her breath was filled with the pleasant scent of his bath fragrance, mixed with a hint of coolness.
“I couldn’t find your luggage bag, so I put all the clothes in one bag,” Song Wanxi explained nervously.
You Jin lowered his gaze to look at her.
Perhaps seeing her cheeks flushed crimson, his deep, dark pupils grew even heavier. After a few seconds, he withdrew his gaze and continued searching for the clothes he wanted.
You Jin went to the bathroom to change.
Taking advantage of his absence, Song Wanxi took the clothes out of the luggage bag and separated them into the wardrobe.
You Jin came out of the bathroom and left the room directly.
That night, he never returned to the room, spending another night outside watching over Grandpa.
Song Wanxi woke up in the middle of the night and wanted to let You Jin come back to rest while she took over watching Grandpa.
She had just walked into the hall when her feet seemed to take root, unable to move.
In the family seating area, only You Jin and Wu Weiwei remained; everyone else had given in to exhaustion and gone to sleep.
The two sat very close together. Wu Weiwei’s eyes were closed, seemingly asleep, her head leaning sideways against You Jin’s shoulder.
You Jin’s expression was deep and somber, staring motionless at Grandpa’s coffin, allowing Wu Weiwei to lean against his shoulder.
Song Wanxi’s heart, which hadn’t completely died yet, felt like it was being filled with a thousand pounds of cement at this moment, gradually solidifying. Her pained heart had no strength left to struggle, and her dried-up tears no longer surged.
Her hands and feet turned cold, and her heart went cold as well.
No matter how much you love someone, you can’t endure this kind of torment from them.
Her eyes reddened, and she turned back to the room.