Tried it for everyone, marrying a wife is really very happy.
Of course, also because this wife is not quite the same, if changed to another person, maybe not only wouldn’t be able to eat, might even have to go back and cook.
Nan Zhi was at the entrance of the house, bending down to change shoes, hands and feet busy, eyes also not idle, almost saw with her own eyes and heard the quiet wife put down the work at hand, push the wheelchair this way, like was coming to welcome her.
The ‘child’ didn’t recognize her anymore after not seeing her for the whole afternoon, only the wife still really did.
Nan Zhi changed into slippers, the wife also hurried over, wanted to help her take the delivery, Nan Zhi didn’t allow it, “There are bacteria.”
She just came back from the hospital, and the hospital was full of germs everywhere. Although she changed clothes and disinfected, still felt she herself was dirty, so things she had touched, she didn’t want him to touch again.
At the entrance of the door, Nan Zhi sprayed herself all over with alcohol, didn’t let off the delivery either, only after that did she not rashly touch Song Qing.
Told him to go eat first, no need to wait for her. She herself hurriedly went upstairs, to shower, wash her hair, and change clothes.
Song Qing almost watched her leave with his own eyes, heard the vague sound of water from upstairs, then realized.
She seemed to be protecting him.
Song Qing remembered very clearly, in the past when uncle sprayed pesticide, the bottles and medicine never let his daughter or son touch, afraid they’d accidentally get poisoned.
But letting him touch, everything just given to him, the things uncle and auntie themselves avoided, the dangerous ones, let him do it.
Now—she thought she seemed to have come into contact with some bacteria, afraid he’d get infected, even after disinfection it wasn’t enough, then went to shower, that delivery also seemed to be worried he’d touch it, she brought it upstairs.
Song Qing turned the wheelchair, looked toward the direction she left in, dazed for a long time.
After a while, upstairs again came some sound, Nan Zhi had washed her hair and bathed, changed into clean clothes, and came down holding the delivery, walking while lifting up the thing in her hand, seriously said: “This is the ‘prey’ I hunted outside!”
It was a box, very big, looked also quite heavy, she just lifted it once then put it down, clamped it under her arm.
Song Qing instinctively looked at the two cats curled up on the sofa, looking this way curiously, felt like the gift was for them.
Song Qing looked back and saw Nan Zhi already opened the box, took the thing out, removed the plastic wrap — it was a set of clothes, after shaking it open, held it up against his body to compare.
“It’s mommy’s clothes.”
Song Qing was slightly dazed.
This result was something he hadn’t expected, so the surprised expression on his face couldn’t be hidden, very obvious.
Nan Zhi captured everything about him clearly, very satisfied, first threw the sweatpants onto the sofa, then held open the hoodie and told him to take off his current clothes.
Song Qing just hesitated a bit, but saw her face darken, before she said anything, he obediently unzipped, quickly took off the windbreaker, only left with a long-sleeved T-shirt.
Nan Zhi was standing, he was sitting, position was high, the collar behind his neck that had been washed until it was rotten could be seen very clearly.
She couldn’t help but sigh in her heart.
Had considered too little, the inner layer was also necessary, only the outerwear wouldn’t do.
The hoodie was fleece-lined, that kind of very delicate one. Nan Zhi touched it, checked the quality, and of course didn’t hold back putting it on him.
He had already prepared himself, and Nan Zhi didn’t hesitate, directly pulled it over his head and put it on.
A grey-colored hooded casual hoodie, very youthful looking, exactly what someone his age should wear.
Grew up so well-looking, not wearing clothes already looked very good, let alone now with this neat and proper outfit.
Made him look a bit cleaner, a pretty and handsome young boy.
When he gave her the ID card, she glanced at it — seventeen years old, still a little more than one month before turning eighteen.
Truly a bit young. Normally, someone his age would finish university around a little past twenty.
Nan Zhi was about three years older than him, 21 years old, he was still short of eighteen by a bit more than a month — rounding up, that’s eighteen.
She had also just graduated not long ago.
Nan Zhi comforted herself — he originally wasn’t an ordinary person, it’s just that he had temporarily fallen into the mud.
The top fit very well. Because he currently couldn’t stand, couldn’t see the full figure, Nan Zhi carried him and placed him on the bed in the small guest room next door, lay him flat, pulled the clothes to take a look.
Looked like it fit — no part was ill-fitting.
The sweatpants she had clamped under the hem of his clothes, held them up for comparison — putting on the full set would look even better, quite good.
Only looking from the front wasn’t enough, Nan Zhi then turned him over, to look at his back. The pants were spread out under him, outlining a contoured curve.
Even if her attention wasn’t on that part, she couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.
Really perky.
While she was operating, Song Qing cooperated the entire time, not resisting at all, which made her begin to doubt — are boys really this obedient?
Nan Zhi quickly shook her head, recalled those boys who chased her during school — noisy, childish, and loved to show off.
In the hospital, there would occasionally be doctors or nurses who tried to pursue her — were nipped in the bud by her.
What a joke — working in the same place, if they ended up as a couple and quarreled or broke up, how would they get along, how would they work — wouldn’t it be awkward to death?
So actually, Song Qing was her first boy with whom she had slightly deeper contact. She felt his personality and everything else was quite good.
For the clothes, Nan Zhi thought everything else was okay. The pants weren’t tried on, but they didn’t seem small — could cover his whole butt, with some extra.
She wasn’t sure about the waist size, but she had a set of measuring techniques. Back when buying clothes, sometimes it was inconvenient to try on, and the shop assistants would wrap the waistband around the neck once. Back then she didn’t understand, asked and was told — if it could go around, it meant it could be worn.
Nan Zhi later tested it and it was true. So now she planned to use this method too.
She flattened out the waistband of the pants, had him sit up and raise his head. He didn’t know what she was going to do, but followed instructions obediently. When Nan Zhi finished tidying up the pant legs, he had already adjusted his posture, quietly sitting, both hands bracing behind him, himself raising his head.
He was very thin, his neck also long and slender. When the pants waistband passed over, it matched exactly for wearing — even had a little bit extra.
Wearing it would be a bit loose, but still pretty good.
Nan Zhi silently evaluated in her heart.
Confirming that he could wear it, afraid that he wouldn’t want it, or would return it or something, Nan Zhi directly cut off the tag, cutting off his thoughts of return, making it so he could only wear it.
When she took out the scissors, this person’s body moved slightly, as if wanting to stop her, but didn’t make it in time. First got stared at by her once, so could only give up the thought, regretfully watching her throw the tag away and place the clothes on his bed.
The clothes were new, should be washed before being worn. The current set was only because he didn’t have clothes, used for emergency; the hoodie and sweatpants still needed to be washed.
Nan Zhi had him take off the current set and change back into that windbreaker. The removed one was taken by her and placed into the washing machine, together with the clothes she had just changed out of.
High temperature ninety degrees, ultraviolet sterilization, not afraid of bacteria. And she felt the bacteria were mainly on her exposed hair and skin; the clothes had been placed inside the resting room locker the whole time, not that dirty.
Nan Zhi finished tidying up and came back to carry him. He was on the bed, the wheelchair was outside, he couldn’t get down by himself.
This person had gotten used to being carried, now would very naturally stretch out both hands, actively wrap around her neck, to let her exert strength and carry him.
Nan Zhi, like carrying a child, carried him to the wheelchair, then pushed the wheelchair to the restroom, washed hands, then sat down at the dining table.
There was a square-shaped induction warmer on the kitchen stove, for keeping dishes warm, could hold about four bowls or plates, which he had moved to the dining table. The dishes were all placed on it, warm and nice.
Because of the time delay, a little bit dry, but not a big issue.
The two were sitting face-to-face.
Learning from last time’s lesson, this time Song Qing actively scooped a lot of big tofu chunks into his own bowl, piled so full there was no space left for other dishes, then started eating with peace of mind.
Just inserted his chopsticks, and the bowl was taken by Nan Zhi, who scooped the tofu pieces back into the dish, then gave him cauliflower and meat, and only after piling a few ribs returned the bowl in front of him.
Song Qing: “……”
“How many times have I said it, eat more meat, only by eating meat can you heal well.” Nan Zhi emphasized again, “Actively pick for yourself. If you don’t eat, then I won’t eat either.”
She only glanced at the table and already knew what he was thinking.
A lot of tofu was made, but little cauliflower and meat, the ribs looked like only enough for one person, clearly hadn’t considered herself — probably afraid she’d manage him again, so prepared to eat more tofu.
Because tofu was the cheapest — one or two yuan per block — she made a whole plate full.
“I’m not that poor yet.” He had pulled this before. Nan Zhi had told him she still had two other properties, right now earned over 8,000 a month, not exactly very poor — raising one of him was more than enough.
She didn’t count painting part-time, but she felt that no matter how bad it was, it wasn’t likely that not a single person would still commission her.
Back when her fanbase was at its peak, there were a lot of people every day offering high prices to commission her art. Commercial commissions were also available, the lowest starting at ten thousand . But because there were too many demands, and her academic workload was heavy, she didn’t even have time to draw what she liked, let alone what others wanted.
It wasn’t that she lacked money — just didn’t take them. Actually, she had accepted a few, but either it was a huge pile of requirements, or their brainwaves weren’t on the same frequency — she’d draw, and they’d say it looked good, but wasn’t what they actually wanted.
Revisions again and again — she found it annoying. Being young and hot-tempered, she directly posted an announcement saying she wasn’t accepting commissions anymore. Only then did things quiet down.
Even though she hadn’t touched it much these past few years, she felt her art skills hadn’t regressed much — on the contrary, as she grew older, her style became more mature.
Just a bit rusty. After drawing a few pieces, that feeling of not being able to grasp it would disappear.
Loving something — how should one say it — is hard to let go of. Yesterday she flipped through the drafts and scattered inspirations from the past few years. Didn’t count, didn’t know, but once she did, realized there were over a hundred pieces. So actually, she had never really left.
She just hadn’t posted anything.
The new one she also didn’t look at — she was still timid, didn’t dare read the comments. Because you never know — you just posted something very normal, and someone might argue with you from some weird and strange angle.
She never said she was quitting the circle, but she guessed people would mock her for doing “sit-ups.” [Note: “sit-ups” here metaphorically refers to flip-flopping or indecisive behavior, like constantly leaving and returning.]
Later, she planned to take a nap and then read when her mood was calmest—not the comments, only the paid commission requests with prices attached.
Otherwise, it would affect her mood so much she couldn’t draw.
—
“From now on, we split everything half and half. You eat as much as I eat.”
Nan Zhi’s attitude was firm, and she would do it this way. She had to break him of his habit of being reluctant to eat good things. She’d already fixed his clothing habits—was this something she couldn’t handle?
Under her domineering pressure, Song Qing had no ability to resist and could only agree.
If he served himself too many side dishes, he’d get glared at, so he had to switch to meat.
Before, he’d get scolded for taking meat. Now, he got scolded for taking vegetables. Really strange.
He obeyed, and Nan Zhi’s expression softened. She went back to telling him about the weird things she encountered at the hospital.
Like a ninety-something-year-old man marrying his fifty-year-old caretaker. She didn’t mention the incident that forced her to work overtime, afraid it would ruin his appetite—even though she’d long gotten used to it.
At the hospital, everyone spoke without restraint, casually tossing out words you’d never hear in daily life.
But she had to protect her “little wife” and couldn’t bring that kind of culture home.
Nan Zhi didn’t stick to one topic, jumping from thing to thing until she remembered her packages. There was one that showed as delivered, but the pickup point insisted they only had one.
After she finished talking, her “little wife” paused, then pushed his wheelchair back, bent down, and pulled out that very package from below, placing it on the table.
“I brought it back for you when I came home.”
He suddenly realized this was a mistake because Nan Zhi treated it like “prey,” proudly showing it off to their cat.
This was his first time raising a cat, so he’d inevitably searched online for tips. By accident, he stumbled upon a post where an owner pretended to go out “hunting,” came back “injured” (limping), and tricked their cat into comforting them. That’s how he learned this term.
Nan Zhi was trying to trick the cat into thinking she was amazing, that she’d hunted down a big prize.
…Actually, she was pretty amazing.
When Nan Zhi got the package, her eyes practically lit up.
Her “little wife” was too good—he even brought her packages without being asked.
Oh my god, I’ve found a fairy wife.
Inside the package was small pear soup, best drunk during meals—refreshing and cuts through greasiness. Nan Zhi tore open the packaging right away, took out two sachets, and went to brew them.
But in the kitchen, she hesitated. She’d have to boil water, wait at least ten minutes, then let it cool before drinking—too much hassle. Before she could retreat, she accidentally glanced at the counter and saw the electric kettle was still plugged in, full of water at just the right temperature.
The water level hadn’t dropped—if anything, it had increased, meaning someone had refilled it.
Nan Zhi blinked, a little stunned.
But she quickly remembered—back when Song Qing first arrived, she’d made up an excuse to observe him: My stomach’s sensitive, I can’t drink water from the dispenser, it has to be fully boiled.
At the time, it was just a lie—though there was some truth to it—but she never expected him to remember, to keep warm water ready for her.
She had a kettle upstairs for nighttime thirst, so she didn’t need to come down.
This one was spare for the kitchen.
Nan Zhi took out two glass cups from the cabinet—she didn’t even know what kind of mood she was in—picked up that kettle, brewed two cups of small pear soup, and brought them back to the table. Her voice and expression had softened even more than before.
“One for me.” She placed one cup in front of herself and pushed the other toward Song Qing. “One for wife.”
She’d called him “wife” so many times in her heart that she didn’t even realize anything was off—until she noticed Song Qing staring at her, and it suddenly hit her: What had she just called him?
She’d called him wife.
Sure, she’d indirectly referred to him that way before, but she’d used little tricks, never outright told him. This was practically the same as openly, blatantly laying her little thoughts bare.
Nan Zhi’s brain went into overdrive, scrambling for a way to patch things up—when suddenly, she heard Song Qing say:
“Mm.”
Then he reached out and took the cup of small pear soup she’d only halfway pushed toward him.
???!!!
The turmoil in Nan Zhi’s heart was almost impossible to put into words. She tried so hard to keep herself from babbling nonsense, steadied her emotions, racked her brain for a topic, and finally spoke again.
“Wife, guess who I saw today?”
Song Qing looked up at her. “Who?”
Oh my god, oh my god—he accepted the title so calmly.
He accepted being her wife!