Jiang Chun sat down on the edge of the kang, took off the lined jacket that was covering Song Shi’an’s body, and reached out to undo the buttons of his outer robe.
Song Shi’an’s lips moved, wanting to say something but held it back, simply turning his head away to not look at her.
Jiang Chun undid his outer robe, revealing the damp inner clothes and inner pants inside.
As she untied the sash of his inner garment, she muttered to herself, “Look, the inner clothes and inner pants inside are completely soaked, and you’re still stubbornly not letting me wipe and change them for you. If you catch a cold again and have to see the doctor, are you thinking our family has too much money!”
As the sash came undone, the skin beneath—white and smooth like congealed fat jade—was suddenly exposed in front of Jiang Chun’s eyes.
“Hiss…” She immediately sucked in a breath of cold air.
This guy’s skin is not only so fair but also so delicate—this is simply breaking the rules!
However, when she took off his inner clothes completely, what was revealed on his back were layers of scars, the skin after the scabs had fallen off was a frightening red, and there were more than a dozen deep scars, rough to the eye, some deep enough to see bone.
Startled, she once again sucked in a breath of cold air: “Hiss…”
Although she knew he had been held in the Heavenly Prison for half a year and had suffered countless tortures, knowing is one thing, seeing with her own eyes is another matter.
Jiang Chun couldn’t help but reach out a finger and gently trace one scar, softly rubbing it a few times.
Song Shi’an’s body trembled, and his face, along with both ears, instantly turned even redder than before drinking the medicinal soup.
In a trembling voice he said: “You… please self-respect…”
Jiang Chun snapped back to her senses, and when she clearly saw the scene in front of her, she was startled. She was about to pull her finger back—but immediately stopped.
She was like a donkey, the kind that only listens when stroked along the hair [属毛驴的 – lit. “belongs to the type of hairy donkey”: metaphor meaning stubborn, only compliant when handled the right way]. He told her to self-respect, so she deliberately would not!
So not only did she not pull back her finger, she even pressed her entire hand on him, touching here and there on his back.
Mumbling, she said: “Why should I self-respect? You are my husband. Not to mention just using hands and feet, even if I did things more excessive than this, it would be perfectly justified!”
Song Shi’an: “….”
Said it so logically and righteously, he actually didn’t know how to argue back for a moment.
But at the same time, in his heart, he confirmed: the Jiang Chun in front of him was definitely not the Jiang Chun from his past life.
If it were the Jiang Chun from his past life, even if she pretended to be affectionate with him for the position of Prime Minister’s wife, she could not possibly go this far.
The current Jiang Chun not only carried him around all the time, but also held him tightly in her arms to prevent his head from bumping into the edge of the mule cart. And now she was even actively touching his back…
If one truly loathed a person, that couldn’t be hidden through physical contact, even if words could lie.
He steadied his mind and said lightly: “Touched enough? If you’ve touched enough, hurry and help me wipe my body, otherwise I really will catch a chill later.”
Jiang Chun was only teasing him and didn’t really intend to do anything. Hearing his reminder, she immediately jumped down from the kang, fetched the cloth from the wooden basin, and wrung it dry.
Then she began to wipe his back.
After wiping the scar-covered back, she wiped the front.
Because his skin was too fair, the two pink dots were especially conspicuous. Each time Jiang Chun’s hand with the cloth passed nearby, she couldn’t help but feel itchy-handed.
Considering he was still ill, she did not beastly tease him.
Mainly, teasing him was useless anyway—look at him, thin all over with not even two liang of flesh [二两 = about 100 grams], every rib clearly visible. A guy over 1.8 meters tall, barely weighing a hundred jin [50 kg]—what use could he possibly be?
As for consummating the marriage or whatnot, let’s wait until his body is nursed back to health before thinking about that.
She quickly finished wiping his upper body, fished out a new inner garment from the wardrobe and put it on him, then draped her father’s lined jacket over him.
Then she went to take off his pants.
Song Shi’an was so embarrassed he couldn’t take it anymore. He painfully turned his head and buried his face into the collar of the lined jacket: “What the eye doesn’t see is clean.” [眼不见为净 – idiom meaning “out of sight, out of mind”]
Seeing him act like an ostrich, Jiang Chun couldn’t help but let out a few stifled laughs.
But her hands didn’t stop moving. First she took off his inner pants, then reached for his underpants.
As soon as the underpants were pulled down, she happened to glance casually—and immediately sucked in a breath of cold air with a “hiss.”
Aiya ya, even in a calm state it was this impressive—if it weren’t in a calm state, how grand would the scene be?
Who was so blessed to have such superior hardware in a husband?
Oh—that would be her, Jiang Chun!
Her heart bloomed with joy; the corners of her mouth nearly reached her ears.
But she was a giant in thought and a dwarf in action. Even though her mind was running wild, her hand with the cloth obediently avoided the important parts and seriously wiped him clean.
Then she flipped him over.
When wiping his butt, she couldn’t help but reach out and give it a squeeze and a rub, saying cheekily: “Tsk, too skinny. Once you’re fatter, it should feel even better to the touch!”
Song Shi’an: “……”
He thought back to earlier when she’d slapped his butt while carrying him. And now? She just straight-up grabbed and kneaded it…
This thing that’s taken over Jiang Chun’s body—where the hell did this stray ghost soul come from? It didn’t even have a shred of modesty!
Fortunately, she didn’t continue to mess around afterward, seriously wiped his legs and feet clean, then helped him put on a pair of dry inner pants.
But the next moment, her words once again left him speechless: “Husband, don’t worry. Since I’ve touched your body, I’ll definitely take responsibility. I won’t abandon you.”
Song Shi’an: “……”
He said speechlessly, “What do you want me to say? Thank you, wife, for not abandoning me?”
Jiang Chun grinned, “No need to thank me. In the future, when husband rises high and glorious, just don’t abandon this wife who shared your hardships.”
Song Shi’an’s brow twitched.
In the past, she had said similar things. At that time, he still thought she was the Jiang Chun from his previous life, so he didn’t take it seriously.
Now that he had confirmed someone else had taken over her soul, hearing these words again felt like they carried a different meaning—almost as if she knew he would definitely have a boundless future.
Otherwise, where would she get the confidence that a sickly body, one that fell half-dead every other day, could ever fly high and prosper?
How did she know?
Could it be that this stray ghost soul was also reborn, and the person inside was someone who had known him in the previous life?
A faintly mocking smile appeared at the corner of his lips.
She just knew—there is no unprovoked kindness in this world. She had spent money, put in effort, cared for him in every possible way, treated him better than even her own father. So it turns out, all she wanted was to bask in his future glory.
Well, that’s fine too—this way, his heart actually felt more at ease.
Gratitude with a clear price tag isn’t scary; what’s scary is the kind you can never repay.
In his past life, Jiang Chun treated him so poorly, and even so, he brought her back to the capital and gave her all the honor and glory.
In this life, Jiang Chun treated him a hundred times better than in the last—so naturally, he would let her get her wish, let her bask in his light and become the Prime Minister’s wife in all her splendor, enjoying honor and prestige for a lifetime.
As for his person and his heart—she shouldn’t even think about it.
Meanwhile, Jiang Chun looked at Song Shi’an—cleaned up by her own hands, dressed in white, lying on the kang with his eyes closed, quietly resting like an immortal banished to the mortal realm—and couldn’t help but clench her fists and make a fierce vow in her heart:
“Such a beautiful man with superior appearance, figure, and hardware—I absolutely must hold on tight. His future, his body, and his heart—I want them all!”