The air inside the melon shed had grown thick, almost sticky.
Su Wan was placed onto the old cotton-padded wooden bed.
Instinctively, she shrank back in fear.
The memory of last time was too vivid—tearing pain, violent storms of force.
She thought it would be the same again.
But Lei Deshui didn’t immediately pounce on her like before.
He stood by the bed, looking down at her. His gaze was still burning, but not impatient.
Slowly, deliberately, he loosened his belt. The movement carried an indescribable pressure.
“What are you afraid of?” Lei Deshui scoffed, looking at her curled-up, frightened posture.
“I don’t eat people.”
He climbed onto the bed, his scorching body pressing close.
Su Wan closed her eyes and clenched her teeth, preparing herself for pain.
But the expected roughness never came.
A large hand, warm and burning, gently rested on her waist.
The touch was unexpectedly soft.
His fingers carefully avoided the bruise on her waist—the one left by Zhang Guihua.
Then his kiss came down.
Not biting, not violent—just slow, careful, almost coaxing.
From her forehead, to the tip of her nose, to her lips.
Her eyelashes trembled as Su Wan slowly opened her eyes.
She saw Lei Deshui’s usually fierce face, now strangely serious.
“If it hurts, just yell,” he whispered into her ear, his voice rough but sending a strange tremor through her heart.
“Don’t lie there like you’re dead—I don’t like that.”
Even though his words were rough, his actions grew increasingly gentle.
He treated her like fragile porcelain—careful, yet unwilling to let go.
Under this unexpected tenderness, Su Wan’s body slowly softened.
The tension and fear she had always carried began to melt away, like ice under warm sun.
Something unfamiliar stirred within her.
Not just pain or humiliation anymore.
But a strange, tingling sensation that climbed up her spine and rushed to her head.
Something she had never experienced with Wang Dajun.
Wang Dajun, that useless coward, was always careless and mechanical—leaving her feeling nothing but disgust.
But Lei Deshui…
He was truly treating her like a woman.
“Brother Lei…” Su Wan couldn’t help but let out a soft sound, her voice almost melting.
Lei Deshui’s eyes burned hotter at that sound.
“Calling for spirits?” he muttered.
“You little娇气包—hold on.”
That night, outside the melon shed, the wind was light and the moon soft.
Inside, however, passion filled the air.
Under Lei Deshui’s embrace, Su Wan completely surrendered.
She realized for the first time that this kind of intimacy wasn’t only about bearing children—it could also be… pleasurable.
Afterward, Su Wan lay limp in his arms like melted water.
Lei Deshui leaned against the headboard, lighting a cigarette.
In the drifting smoke, his rugged face looked slightly blurred.
One arm held her smooth shoulder; the other lazily played with her hair.
“Tell me something,” he said, exhaling smoke, his eyes turning slightly dark.
“The injuries on your body… were they all caused by those beasts in the Wang family?”
During what had just happened, he had seen everything clearly.
Her skin was as white as snow, but covered in bruises—blue, purple, and fresh marks everywhere.
Old wounds mixed with new ones.
Especially the bloody welts on her inner thighs—clearly from a whip.
Su Wan’s body trembled slightly when she heard those words.
The lingering warmth and intimacy instantly dissipated, replaced by the coldness of reality.
She buried her face in Lei Deshui’s chest, and tears began to fall at once.
“Mm…”
Her voice broke into sobs as she stammered out all the grievances of the past three years.
How Zhang Guihua had stabbed her with needles.
How Wang Dajun stood by silently while she was beaten.
How they called her a “useless burden occupying space.”
Every word was like a blade dipped in blood.
The more Lei Deshui listened, the darker his expression became.
By the end, he crushed the cigarette butt in his hand.
“Those damn bastards!” he cursed, his chest rising and falling heavily.
He was a thug, a brute—but the thing he despised most in life was men who beat women.
And now this woman belonged to him.
“Stop crying,” Lei Deshui said, extinguishing the cigarette and rolling over to pin her beneath him.
He looked at her tear-red eyes, and something in his chest tightened.
He kissed her forehead hard, rough and intense.
“I’ll remember this debt for you.”
“You just endure it for now. Don’t expose anything. It’s not time to turn against them yet.”
His voice was low, but firm and unquestionable.
“When the time comes, I’ll let you walk out of that hell in glory.”
“By then, I’ll make the Wang family kneel in front of you and beg.”
Su Wan looked at him.
There was no joking in his eyes—only seriousness.
In that moment, Su Wan felt her drifting, rootless heart finally find a place to land.
She reached out and hugged his neck.
“Brother Lei… I believe you.”
Before dawn, Su Wan had to leave.
If it became fully light and someone saw her, everything would be ruined.
She dressed again. Still in her shabby clothes, but she looked different now.
Her cheeks still carried a faint blush, and there was a new brightness in her eyes.
Lei Deshui pulled a bundle from under the pillow and stuffed it into her pocket.
When she touched it, it was thick and solid.
She pulled it out—and froze.
It was a stack of “Da Tuan Jie” banknotes.
There were at least several hundred yuan—an enormous sum in rural areas where work points had only recently been phased out.
“Brother Lei, I can’t take this…” she said quickly, trying to return it.
“Take it!” he snapped.
“I gave it to you—just take it. Why so much nonsense?”
“Go buy something good to eat. Stop eating that pig feed. Fatten yourself up a bit—next time it’ll feel better to hold you.”
His words were crude, but Su Wan could still feel the care underneath.
He was afraid she would go hungry. Afraid she would have no money to protect herself.
She bit her lip and carefully hid the money against her body.
“Go on. Be careful on the way.”
He patted her lightly and sent her off toward the edge of the melon field.
Su Wan looked back once, then disappeared into the morning mist.
The village was quiet at dawn.
She hurried back toward the narrow alley behind the Wang family house.
As long as she passed through it, she could climb the wall back in.
But just as she reached the entrance—
She froze.
Her heart clenched violently.
On top of the low wall ahead, someone was crouching.
A woman in a floral padded jacket with curled hair was peeking furtively into the Wang family courtyard.
It was the widow next door—Zhao.