Song Shi’an originally thought he would have insomnia, staying awake all night until daybreak with eyes wide open.
However, he was burning up and muddle-headed, plus he drank the soup medicine that had a sleep-assisting effect. The most crucial thing was, Jiang Chun’s body was warm, curled up in her embrace, it was an indescribable comfort.
Not long after, he sank into a deep sleep.
The next day, Jiang Chun woke up on time at yin shi (3 a.m.).
Because of the rain, her family’s stall hadn’t been set up for three days.
Originally, today they were supposed to slaughter a pig. Although the road was still a bit muddy, and pushing the single-wheel cart would still be difficult, but a mere hundred-plus jin [about 50-60 kg] of pork, if she carried it on her back as a human, it would still be easy.
But Song Shi’an was sick, and Jiang He, that big rough man, wasn’t someone who knew how to take care of others, she really couldn’t rest assured. Simply, today she’d rest for one more day.
She originally wanted to lift her hand, using the back of her hand to test Song Shi’an’s forehead, to see if he was still burning up.
As a result, she tried to lift it once, tried again, but her arm just wouldn’t lift.
Song Shi’an usually had very good sleeping posture, lying flat and straight on the kang, both hands folded on his lower abdomen, basically waking up exactly the way he fell asleep, rarely even turning over.
But now, it was completely different—like an octopus, he was wrapped tightly around her body. Her hands and feet were firmly bound by him, completely unable to move a bit.
If she used brute force to pull her arm out, it would definitely wake him up, so she could only temporarily give up.
However, it seemed like the fever had subsided a bit; at least his body wasn’t as scalding hot as it was last night.
Last night, holding him was like holding a hot water bottle filled with boiling water, she almost got scorched to the point of peeling.
Sure enough, taking advantage of a beauty wasn’t so easy.
Jiang Chun internally grumbled for a good while, grumbling and grumbling, and then, muddle-headed, she drifted off to sleep again.
An hour later, Song Shi’an drowsily opened his eyes, with a feeling like he wasn’t sure what day or year it was, and it took a good while for him to come back to his senses.
Although Jiang Chun had already pulled back the thick coarse-cloth curtains, she hadn’t had time to sew the edges yet, so the curtains hanging on the windows were still the easily light-permeable hemp cloth ones.
At this moment, the sky outside was faintly bright, and through the window, the light reflected in—he was shocked to discover that he was sleeping in Jiang Chun’s bedding.
And he was sleeping in an extremely intimate posture within her bedding.
One of his hands was hooked around her neck, the other wrapped around her waist, his face buried between her two softness, a soft pink grape was just by his lips—as if, if he just opened his mouth, he could easily bite into it.
His two legs were no better: one stretched under the crook of her knee.
The other was bent, his knee pressing against her thigh, his lower leg squeezed between her two lower legs, tightly pressed together with her two lower legs.
The most fatal thing was, neither of them were wearing a single thread of clothing, just like that, bare and naked, hugging together…
He shook his somewhat numb head, furrowing his brow as he thought for a long while, before the memories of last night gradually floated up in his mind.
And then, he didn’t know what to say.
Of course, he was touched—she had stepped through the muddy roads to town to get medicine for him, painstakingly boiled it and served it to him.
She also soaked a cloth towel in cold water to apply to his forehead. Because his fever was too high, every two ke (30 minutes) she would change the water and re-soak it once.
At night, seeing that not only did his fever not go down but he also started shivering, his whole body trembling from the cold, she brought him into her bedding, using her own body to warm him.
It was no exaggeration to say that in this world, ninety-nine out of a hundred men’s wives couldn’t do what she did.
But to say she had no selfish motives, he didn’t believe that either.
As for the matter of him feeling cold, she clearly had other ways to solve it—for example, putting a few more padded jackets over his blanket, or getting up in the middle of the night to stoke the kang again.
Yet she didn’t even give him the choice, directly brought him into her bedding, and then stripped both of their clothes clean…
This woman really, no matter when, never forgot about taking advantage of him!
His emotions were… extremely complicated.
Just at that moment, the still-sleeping Jiang Chun suddenly wanted to turn over—turned once, then tried again, but actually couldn’t turn.
She drowsily opened her eyes, only to see in the dim light, a pair of slightly upturned, incomparably beautiful phoenix eyes looking at her, gaze complicated.
Only then did Jiang Chun, belatedly, realize—the reason she couldn’t turn over was because her body was tightly wrapped up by this octopus.
When Song Shi’an saw her suddenly open her eyes, he immediately lowered his gaze, not daring to meet her eyes, and his face turned completely red.
Lowering his eyes, through the gap in the quilt, he caught a glimpse of their posture—he hurriedly let go of her in a flurry, scrambling backwards, trying to put some distance between them.
But a single-person quilt wasn’t that spacious to begin with, how could it withstand him scooting around like this?
He hadn’t scooted back a few times before one of his butt cheeks poked out from under the quilt.
Jiang Chun couldn’t hold it in and let out a “puchi” laugh.
She reached over, quickly copped a feel, and laughed, saying, “Husband, what are you sticking your butt out for?”
Only then did Song Shi’an realize he had made the mistake of watching his head but not his butt. He hurriedly scooted back under the quilt, completely hiding himself inside.
But by doing this, his body inevitably pressed back up against Jiang Chun’s body.
Song Shi’an: “……”
So what exactly was he fussing about?
Jiang Chun smiled as she watched him fumble about, for once not teasing him.
Until he had buried himself back under the quilt properly, she finally reached out to feel his forehead, using the back of her hand to check.
Then she made a soft “mm” sound and said, “Much better than yesterday, but there’s still a little bit of fever. Let’s take another dose of medicine this evening and see.”
Song Shi’an muffled a response from inside the blanket: “Mm.”
Jiang Chun saw him so embarrassed that he didn’t even dare to look her straight in the eye, looking like he wished he could imitate an ostrich and bury his head into the sand. She held back her laughter so hard it was pure suffering.
In the end, she couldn’t hold it back, teasing him with a sentence: “Husband, you shared a quilt with me last night, slept with me, you have to take responsibility for me, you can’t abandon me oh.”
Song Shi’an: “……”
Among the people, saying “slept with” is equivalent in meaning to Dunlun [敦伦, a literary or formal term meaning to engage in sexual relations], but last night they had clearly only hugged and slept together, they had not engaged in Dunlun.
She was now, right in front of his face, openly calling a stag a horse. [指鹿为马, idiom meaning “to misrepresent” or “to deliberately twist facts”]
Could he argue with her about this?
Obviously impossible.
If he argued with her about this, it would more or less be seen as being ungrateful.
Either way, he had already decided to be true husband and wife with her, Dunlun was just a matter of sooner or later, so let her talk nonsense as she pleased.
He pulled down the blanket a little, revealing his head, then solemnly said: “I won’t.”
So concise and clear—Jiang Chun thought for a moment, then understood his words meant he wouldn’t abandon her.
Her mouth couldn’t help but curve upwards.
She reached out to hug his back, buried her head into his chest, nuzzling here and there, and said with a cheerful laugh: “Husband truly is a person of deep feelings and loyalty, I didn’t misjudge the person.”
And she couldn’t resist bragging: “I have looks if it’s about looks, I have a figure if it’s about figure, and I even have the ability to earn money and support the household—if Husband were to abandon me, it would be Husband’s loss.”
Song Shi’an raised a hand to support the back of her head, holding her head steady against his chest, to stop her from nuzzling everywhere and setting little fires all over the place.
He let out a low laugh, saying: “Yes yes yes, Wife is the best woman under the heavens, if this husband doesn’t treasure you, he’s sure to be struck by lightning.”
Though the tone of voice was sarcastic, the words he spoke were entirely his true thoughts.
And Jiang Chun, this person, clearly had a knack for hearing sarcasm as sincerity—she immediately planted a “jii” kiss on his chest, happily saying: “Aiyaa aiyaa, turns out Husband thinks so highly of me, I really feel I can’t live up to it oh~.”
Song Shi’an hadn’t expected that even with her head held firmly by his palm, her mouth could still act up. After a moment of delay, he somewhat weakly scolded: “You—you behave yourself.”
Jiang Chun’s rebellious streak flared up, and without hesitation, she gave another “jii” kiss—this time, directly landing it on his soft pink grape.
Song Shi’an’s breath caught, his heart even skipped a few beats.
A moment later, he reacted like a cat that had its tail stepped on, quickly wriggling backwards a few times to escape her evil grasp.
And once again, watching his head but not his butt, his butt poked out from under the quilt.
Jiang Chun immediately extended her wicked claws, copped another feel.
Song Shi’an: “……”
He really was resigned to this woman—she really was lusting after him!
He placed both hands on the kang, intending to sit up and get dressed, so she couldn’t keep finding new ways to take advantage of him.
Who knew, after such a high fever, his body was weak and feeble. As soon as he sat up halfway, his arm gave out, and with a “jii,” he fell back onto the kang.
Jiang Chun’s mouth twitched slightly.
She reached out to grab her small inner garment and put it on, turned over and sat up, put on her middle garment and padded jacket, then took Song Shi’an’s middle garment and draped it over his body. Only then did she exert strength to help him sit up.
She helped him tie the belt of the middle garment, then fetched the padded jacket for him to put on.
When it came to the underwear, middle pants, and padded pants, Song Shi’an was absolutely unwilling. Even though he didn’t have much strength in his hands, he insisted on putting them on by himself.
Yet just putting on an underwear already made him pant for breath, a fine layer of sweat appearing on his forehead.
This made Jiang Chun both angry and amused. She said: “What are you being shy for, tell me, is there anywhere on your body I haven’t seen?”
She directly flipped open the quilt covering him, scooped up the middle pants beside her, and put them onto his feet.
Song Shi’an lay weakly on the quilt, wanting to dress himself but unable to muster the strength. He closed his eyes, and could only let her help him.
While Jiang Chun was putting the middle pants onto his legs, she grumbled: “Husband, you’re just too thin-skinned. Luckily you met someone as thick-skinned as me, otherwise in this lifetime, the two of us wouldn’t even have the chance to kiss, let alone Dunlun.”
Song Shi’an cast her a sideways glance, ridiculing: “So you know yourself that you’re thick-skinned?”
Jiang Chun lifted her chin proudly, completely unashamed: “Thin-skinned, starve to death; thick-skinned, eat from all houses.”
Song Shi’an’s mouth twitched.
Before others could mock her, she mocked herself first—this way, others wouldn’t know how to deal with her, right?
He didn’t know about others, but at least he really couldn’t deal with her.
Fortunately, although Jiang Chun’s mouth kept chattering, her hands moved swiftly. In no time, she had helped him get fully dressed.
She even heated water and helped him wash his face.
One could say she was attentive in every detail.
Song Shi’an felt deeply grateful, thinking that if she insisted on making him share her bedding at night, it wouldn’t be unacceptable.
Since she was craving his body, wanting to cop some oil [揩油, a slang term meaning “to take advantage”], then he might as well let her.
Who knew, just before bedtime, Jiang Chun actually asked him to decide: “Husband, do you still want to share a bedding with me tonight?”
Last night, it was because he had a high fever and chills, and was burning up in a daze, that she had forcibly brought him into her bedding, fearing something bad would happen.
Now that he had improved and was clear-headed, she couldn’t continue to force it—she had to respect the person involved’s opinion.