Jiang Chun had her lips clamped on Song Shi’an’s tongue, swallowing it in, spitting it out, spitting it out, swallowing it in, her tongue weaving back and forth, lighting fires everywhere.
The two people’s lips and teeth relied on each other, entangled in saliva during the night, breaths rushed, upper bodies tightly and seamlessly embracing together. The softness in front of Jiang Chun pressed tightly against his chest.
Perhaps the kissing was too engrossing, Jiang Chun’s body actually got somewhat aroused, unable to resist wanting more.
Just at this moment, from the kang bed suddenly came a dull “putong” sound, and in the next instant Song Shi’an’s body leaned forward, his weight fully pressing onto her.
Fortunately, Jiang Chun was standing at the foot of the kang, her stance solid and rooted, steadily supporting the weight of the two people.
She slanted her eyes and glanced at the kang bed.
Then she immediately let go of Song Shi’an’s tongue, turned her head, and “puchi” — let out a laugh.
The New Year hadn’t even arrived yet, and he actually gave her a grand salute himself.
She had the mind to tease him a few words, but thinking of how someone like him, with pride as high as the sky, only bows to Heaven, Earth, Sovereign, Parents, and Teachers, she had to consider his face, so dropped the idea.
But it didn’t stop her from laughing, laughing until she bent over and backward, laughing until she couldn’t stop, laughing until she got the hiccups…
Song Shi’an: “……”
He changed from kneeling to sitting, raised his hand to hold his forehead, his face red to the point of almost dripping blood, wishing the kang bed would split open a big hole so he could jump in and hide his shame.
Kissing to the point of legs going weak, and directly giving Jiang Chun a double-knee kneel salute kind of thing—feels like it could be laughed at by her for ten years.
But could this be blamed on him?
She was kissing just fine, and then halfway suddenly stretched out her tongue, what did that even mean?
Stretching out her tongue was whatever, he didn’t stop her either, stuck out his tongue and let her torment it however she pleased—just treated it as coaxing her into happiness.
But this improper one, actually swallowed it in and spat it out like that, tormenting his tongue—completely like performing dunlun… [“敦伦” – archaic euphemism meaning sexual union]
Even though he wasn’t close to women, not having eaten pork doesn’t mean he doesn’t know what a pig looks like. [Chinese idiom: “没吃过猪肉，也见过猪跑” – haven’t experienced it but still know about it]
With her leading things astray like that, how could he stop his own mind from wandering into improper thoughts?
The result was, his body was too weak, couldn’t keep up with his brain, and his legs gave out in soreness and softness—directly came a full double-knee kneel.
The only good part was: she indeed forgot she was mad at him earlier, now only busy laughing at him.
Fine then, as long as she’s no longer mad.
What was this called?
Kissing cures all illnesses?
He closed his eyes and lightly sighed, stretched out his hand to pull her over, rubbing her back to help her catch her breath.
If she were allowed to keep laughing like this, he’d really suspect she might laugh herself unconscious.
As he lightly stroked her back with his palm, he softly asked: “Not mad at me anymore?”
Jiang Chun wasn’t mad at him to begin with. The silver money in her hand and the silver money he was about to earn—either way, both were earned by him, so whichever one he used didn’t make a difference.
Using the money he was about to earn was even better. That way, the one thousand plus taels in her hand could be saved.
Money and silver, such things—no matter whose hands they’re in, it’s never as reassuring as being in one’s own hands. Even if the other party is Song Shi’an, it’s the same.
But she definitely wouldn’t admit that out loud.
She held back for quite a while, forced the laughter back into her belly, then panted and let out a cold “hmph”: “Don’t think that just because you kissed me first once, I’ll forgive you. I’m not that easy to coax.”
Song Shi’an lifted his eyes and glared at her.
The red flush on his face had not yet faded, and the corners of his brows and eyes were full of spring affection.
Jiang Chun nearly lost control again, almost pounced over to fiercely kiss him all over again.
He let out a soft hum, endured the shame, and gritted his teeth as he argued with her: “If you’re really not forgiving me, then I’ll have to settle the score with you for stretching your tongue into my mouth without my consent.”
Jiang Chun reached out to hug his waist, buried her head against his chest, and said with a rogue’s bluntness: “What score? If you think you lost out, you can stretch your tongue into my mouth too, and take the advantage back.”
Song Shi’an: “……”
Truly playing a good hand of abacus. [打得一手好算盘 – idiom meaning someone is calculating/self-serving]
He said helplessly: “Then doesn’t that mean you get to take advantage of me twice?”
Jiang Chun rubbed her cheek against his chest, humming: “And didn’t you also get to take advantage of me twice? We’re even.”
Song Shi’an pressed his lips together.
If it were before, he could still coldly and bluntly say that he didn’t care about taking advantage of her, but now, he truly couldn’t bring himself to say it.
Because—ahem—as for kissing her… it seemed to not be so detestable anymore.
Might even… like it a little.
He could only argue back: “Since you say we’re even, then you’re not allowed to be mad at me anymore.”
Jiang Chun lay comfortably in his arms, closed her eyes, and couldn’t even be bothered to tease him anymore. She hummed: “Fine then. For the sake of you kissing me first today, I’ll forgive you this once.”
Upon hearing this, Song Shi’an let out a breath of relief, the corners of his mouth couldn’t help lifting.
His hands, which had been resting at his sides, slowly lifted, then wrapped around her back.
Then he also closed his eyes.
The two of them just quietly stayed warm and tender like that for a while. Then suddenly, Jiang Chun broke free from his embrace and shouted: “Really, beauty delays proper work—my cotton-padded trousers still aren’t finished!”
She waved her hand like shooing away flies, waved at Song Shi’an, and said impatiently: “You should go copy your books if you’re supposed to copy books, go draw if you’re supposed to draw. Don’t bother me here.”
Song Shi’an: “……”
June weather is like a child’s face—changes faster than anything. [六月天，孩儿脸 – proverb meaning the weather or mood changes unpredictably and rapidly]
Just a moment ago she was still nestled in his arms, clinging lovingly, and now she’s complaining he’s in the way.
He let out a light sigh, held onto the kang to stand up, slowly walked back to the kang table at the head of the bed, picked up the ink stick in the inkstone, and resumed grinding ink.
—
It turns out Jiang Chun’s intuition was indeed somewhat accurate. On the very night she barely finished rushing out a pair of cotton trousers, a torrential rain poured down.
And the rain lasted a full two days.
One layer of autumn rain brings one layer of cold. After the rain stopped, the temperature dropped sharply.
Song Shi’an’s body was too weak, more afraid of the cold than others. While Jiang Chun was still wearing single-layer clothing, he had already put on a padded jacket.
Now that Jiang Chun had changed into a padded jacket, he had to wear the cotton-padded clothes.
Because the road was muddy and the mud would clog up the cart wheels, they couldn’t go to town to set up a stall, so the Jiang family didn’t slaughter pigs today.
Jiang Chun threw on the padded jacket, jumped off the kang bed, and took out that new set of cotton-padded clothes from the clothing chest, placing it beside Song Shi’an’s quilt.
She said proudly: “Luckily I had foresight, rushed and rushed and just managed to get the cotton trousers done. Otherwise you’d have nothing to wear today.”
Song Shi’an put on the thick padded jacket and trousers. The soft fine cotton lining pressed against his skin, and warmth instantly wrapped his whole body from head to toe, completely blocking out the cold.
He felt as if he had come back to life again.
Jiang Chun reached out and touched his ice-cold fingers, then touched his equally ice-cold toes, frowning as she said: “This cold? Looks like we’ll have to burn the kang hotter tonight.”
But no matter how hot the kang was burned, it could only stay warm for half the night; by the second half it would slowly grow cold again.
And the brazier for heating would still take ten or twenty days to be made.
She rolled her eyes and, with bad intentions, proposed: “Since husband is so afraid of the cold, and the brazier isn’t ready yet, why don’t you just sleep in the same quilt with me tonight? I have strong firepower [火力大 – slang for high body temperature/metabolism], my body’s warm and toasty, even better than a hot-water bottle. If you hug me while sleeping, you definitely won’t feel cold.”
Song Shi’an: “……”
This person… she really doesn’t know what shame is, actually wants him to sleep in the same quilt with her…
Admittedly, her body was healthy and had strong firepower, always warm to the touch. Sleeping in the same quilt with her indeed would be warm—but he couldn’t agree.
He wasn’t a sage. Warm fragrance and soft jade in his arms [温香软玉在怀 – idiom meaning a beautiful woman in one’s embrace], how could he not develop romantic thoughts?
But right now, his body hadn’t yet recovered; he couldn’t perform dunlun [敦伦 – archaic euphemism for sexual intercourse]. Even if such thoughts arose, he’d have to hold them in.
Rather than suffer that torment, might as well let himself freeze.
So he resolutely refused: “No need. My body can withstand it.”
However, the very next day after saying this, Song Shi’an caught a cold, coughing so hard it felt like his heart and lungs were tearing, and by the afternoon he was running a fever.
The medicine prescribed last time by Little Qi the physician had already been finished—fortunately, Jiang Chun had kept the prescription.
So she stepped through the muddy wet ground and walked to the Qi Family Medical Hall in town. She had the old physician Qi prepare seven doses of medicine based on the prescription his grandson wrote.
After paying the money, she hugged the medicine bundle and rushed back. When passing by the sundry store, she involuntarily thought of how last time Jiang Wan bought preserved fruits for Song Shi’an.
She turned her steps, detoured into the sundry shop, and spent thirty wen to buy a packet of preserved fruits.
In ancient times, sugar was more expensive than pork. A pound of fatty-with-some-lean pork only cost twenty wen, yet this small packet of preserved fruits—maybe only six or seven liang—actually cost thirty wen. Simply blood-price expensive.
Whatever. He was sick, after all. Heaven is great, Earth is great, but the patient is greatest.
After hurrying back home, Jiang Chun immediately decocted the medicine and carried it into the west room for Song Shi’an to drink.
Song Shi’an didn’t dare lie down—once he did, his coughing would worsen—so he could only recline on a stack of quilts with eyes closed to rest.
Upon hearing the door open, he opened his eyes and looked over. Seeing Jiang Chun come in carrying a bowl of medicine—her hands were clean, but the cuffs of her pants were covered in mud spots, and her shoes looked as if they’d just been fished out of a mud pit—
He quickly said: “You… cough cough cough… quickly change your pants and shoes. Be careful—cough cough cough—careful not to catch cold too, and end up like me.”
He coughed twice before he could barely finish that one sentence.
“Don’t rush, drink the medicine first.” Jiang Chun placed the medicine bowl on the kang table and reached out to help him sit up.
Then she picked up the medicine bowl and personally brought it to his lips, saying: “I poured cold water over it, it’s not hot. Just drink it without worry.”
Song Shi’an didn’t refuse either. With his current condition, if he didn’t drink the medicine, the coughing might be tolerable, but this high fever could truly take his life.
Song Shi’an drank the decoction in small sips with her hand supporting him.
Drinking it like this, the bitterness felt endless, endlessly bitter, the tender throat was irritated till it felt raw, as if enduring torture.
But there was no way around it. If he drank in large gulps, and that itch in his throat surged up all of a sudden, and he lost control…
He’d end up spraying Jiang Chun with a face full of medicine.
By the time he finished drinking the whole bowl, a thin layer of sweat had broken out on his back.
Jiang Chun set the bowl on the kang table, then ran to the kitchen cabinet to fetch that packet of preserved fruits. She pinched a piece with her fingers and brought it to his lips.
With a smile, she said: “Here, open your mouth, eat a piece of preserved fruit to sweeten your mouth. Otherwise, your mouth will just be full of bitterness.”
Song Shi’an glanced sideways at the oily paper package of preserved fruits in her hand, then raised his eyes to look at her expression that resembled coaxing a child. After a moment of silence, he still opened his mouth and put the preserved fruit in.
Jiang Chun leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips, with a “bo” sound, praising: “Such a good boy.”
Song Shi’an immediately frowned, quickly chewed and swallowed the preserved fruit, then scolded: “Keep some distance from me. Don’t go touching and grabbing. Be careful—if you catch my illness.”
Jiang Chun looked at him, face full of innocence, and said: “I didn’t touch or grab. I used my mouth.”
Song Shi’an: “……”
He said speechlessly: “You know what I meant. Don’t pretend to be dumb.”
Seeing her still standing there not moving, he could only urge her again: “Hurry up and change your pants and shoes. Be careful or you’ll really catch cold and fall ill like me.”
Jiang Chun made a helpless face:.“Fine, I’ll change, I’ll change. Stop chanting like the Tang Monk.”
She first took the medicine bowl outside to wash it clean, then washed her hands. After that, she came back and rummaged through the chest looking for pants.
Once she found the pants, she sat herself on the edge of the kang, pulled off the waist-tied sweat cloth, and began taking off her pants.
Song Shi’an immediately turned his gaze away and said helplessly: “Father’s not home. Why don’t you go change in the kitchen?”
“Go to the kitchen for what?” Jiang Chun took off her pants, patted her padded legs, and hummed: “I’m not bare-legged underneath, what’s there to be afraid of?”
She paused, then said with a grin: “Even if I were bare-legged, you’re my husband—what is there that you can’t see?”
Song Shi’an: “……”
What she said made such sense, he actually couldn’t find a rebuttal.
After a moment of silence, he said faintly:.“Even so, we haven’t consummated the marriage yet. At least show some propriety.”
Jiang Chun gave a soft snort, not caring whether he was sick or not. If she wanted to retort, she would: “When you kissed me on your own initiative, why didn’t you think about propriety then?”
Hearing this, Song Shi’an’s face immediately heated up. His already fever-reddened cheeks became even redder.
Jiang Chun finished changing her pants and shoes, and when she looked up and saw his face was red like a burning coal, she immediately felt a deep ache in her heart and regretted talking back to him.
She hurriedly stepped forward, helped him recline onto the quilt, then brought her own quilt over and covered it on top of him.
She gently said from her mouth: “You just took the medicine, go ahead and sleep to sweat it out. Maybe when you wake up, your body will feel a bit lighter.”
Song Shi’an slept straight through until nighttime. When he woke up, not only did he not feel any lighter, the fever had actually worsened.
His head, face, and neck were red like a cooked shrimp, yet he was still unbearably cold. Even with two quilts covering him, he couldn’t stop shaking.
Jiang Chun fed him half a bowl of plain congee, then fetched a basin of cool water and brought it into the west room, soaked a cloth towel, and laid it on his head.
Seeing him curled up in the quilt, shivering like a sieve-shaking stalk, she ignored his protest and directly hugged him into her own quilt.
She stripped off both of their clothes, then pulled him into her arms.
Jiang Chun’s body was like a small stove. The moment he pressed against her, he immediately felt warm heat spreading through him, and couldn’t help but let out a groan of relief: “Mm…”
His hands and feet betrayed him too—without him controlling it, they wrapped around her body, as if trying to absorb more warmth.
His body, which had been trembling like chaff in a sieve, also gradually began to calm.
Jiang Chun noticed that his shivering wasn’t as severe, and the tight knot between his brows relaxed. She let out a pleased little hum: “Yesterday I already said you should come sleep in my quilt, but you just wouldn’t. And what happened? Froze yourself sick, didn’t you? Hmph, in the end, still ended up sleeping in the same quilt with me, didn’t you? If you’d agreed earlier, maybe you wouldn’t have had to suffer this whole ordeal.”
Song Shi’an pressed his lips together, somewhat unsure how to respond.
If speaking of guilt, he indeed was a little guilty. After just one autumn rain, Jiang Chun and her father were perfectly fine, while he alone fell sick on the kang bed.
Made Jiang Chun step through the muddy ground to go into town and get medicine for him, and spending silver aside, she also had to labor to take care of him—completely adding a heap of hardship on her.
But if speaking of not being in the wrong—he truly wasn’t. They hadn’t consummated the marriage yet, so they were supposed to strictly observe the separation between man and woman. They couldn’t be so clingy.
But now, saying all that was too late. He was already in her quilt, curled in her arms, face pressed against the softness on her chest, his arms and legs wrapped around her like dodder vines.
At this point, if he still brought up anything about male-female boundaries, even without Jiang Chun saying anything, he himself would feel like someone who already did the deed and was still trying to act virtuous.
He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.
Forget it. Sooner or later, he was going to be her dish on the table anyway. Whether it was one day earlier or one day later sleeping in the same quilt—there didn’t seem to be much difference.
Jiang Chun saw him sighing and shaking his head again and found it funny, saying: “Don’t act like some poor bride stolen by a mountain bandit. Rest assured, before your body’s fully recovered, I definitely won’t force you to consummate the marriage.”
Song Shi’an closed his eyes.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her—it was that he didn’t quite trust himself.
But that sort of thing definitely couldn’t be said out loud. Otherwise, who knows how smug she’d get.
Song Shi’an nodded a few times and gave a muffled “mm” in reply.
But he forgot—his face was currently pressed against her softness. That nodding, was no different from rubbing his face back and forth against her there.
It directly made her body jolt in “startled response.”
Jiang Chun was thick-skinned and didn’t notice anything unusual. But Song Shi’an’s entire face stiffened, and he didn’t dare move his head even the slightest bit again.