Song Shi’an: “……”
How was he supposed to answer that?
If he chose “agree,” wouldn’t that make him seem very frivolous, like he was just itching to share a bedding with her?
But if he chose “disagree,” it would make him seem like a bridge-burner, as if he despised the idea of sleeping with his own wife.
Really, what was she even asking for? Couldn’t she just directly force him to share the bedding like last time?
He struggled for a long time, and only then did he finally open his mouth with difficulty: “The new quilt isn’t made yet, there’s only one quilt, it’s… it’s a bit cold.”
Jiang Chun raised her eyebrows in surprise.
She had thought he would reject her outright. After all, in the morning, he had wriggled out of the quilt twice, acting like he couldn’t wait to draw a clear line from her.
Who would’ve thought, he actually still wanted to sleep with her?
Though the words were spoken tactfully, in reality, that was exactly what it meant.
She tilted her head, sizing up his face back and forth, thinking—could it be this guy looks all steady and proper on the surface, but is actually a closet pervert?
Song Shi’an was stared at so much that his face couldn’t hold up anymore. He stiffened his expression, coldly saying: “If you don’t want to, then forget it. At worst, I’ll get up in the middle of the night and light the kang myself.”
“Puchi.” Jiang Chun was directly amused by his words and laughed out loud.
She said with a laugh: “You, getting up in the middle of the night to light the kang? You’re a person who’s never even lit a clay stove before—if you can get the firewood to light before dawn, I’ll have to tell you a ‘respect’.”
Because of the rain these past few days, the straw and soybean stalks stacked outside the main gate had all been drenched, so they could only use the firewood stored in the woodshed.
Firewood was good in every way, except it was hard to ignite. For someone without experience, if they tried to light the wood directly with a fire striker, they might not be able to get it going even after an entire shichen [2 hours].
Song Shi’an was blocked and left speechless, and in a fit of stubbornness, he retorted: “No need for you to bother. If I can’t light it, I’ll just freeze to death. Who told me to be so clumsy?”
Jiang Chun laughed sidelong: “What nonsense is Husband saying? How could I bear to let you freeze to death?”
She stood up, originally wanting to walk over and scoop him up, but then thought about how the head of the kang where he was lying was actually warmer. So she bent over, grabbed her quilt, and walked over to the head of the kang.
When Song Shi’an saw her carrying the quilt over to him, the corner of his mouth curved upward.
He just knew she was soft-hearted, couldn’t bear to see him suffer.
Jiang Chun squeezed into Song Shi’an’s bedding, then draped her quilt over his quilt.
She slipped a hand under her head as a pillow, and grinned at Song Shi’an, saying with a cheeky smile: “Husband, do you want me to take off both our clothes?”
Under the dim yellow oil lamp, the redness on Song Shi’an’s face was visible to the naked eye—his ears even turned red along with it.
He quickly said: “No need.”
Jiang Chun pursed her lips. This guy’s personality really was twisted—clearly wanted to share a bedding with her, but unwilling to take off clothes.
Still, being able to continue sharing a bedding was already a pleasant surprise for her, so she didn’t push for more.
She also didn’t bother asking for his opinion anymore, directly reached out and pulled him into her embrace.
With his skinny, bony body, plus his hands and feet weak after the fever—if she were to sleep on his chest all night, by tomorrow he might end up cosplaying as a mummy.
With a big wave of her hand, she declared: “Sleep!”
His cheek suddenly sank into a mass of softness, and Song Shi’an’s face reddened a few shades deeper. He opened his mouth, wanting to tell her to let go of him, but just as he opened his mouth, something suddenly entered his mouth.
For a moment, he didn’t react. His cheeks moved a few times.
When he realized what he had just done, he was completely stunned.
Jiang Chun took a sharp breath in through her teeth, lowered her head to glance at where Song Shi’an’s head was pressed, and felt it was simply unbelievable.
This guy… he could actually do something like this?
And it was himself who did it proactively!
What was this called? People cannot be judged by their appearance?
This guy really wasn’t as cold and aloof as he looked on the surface—he was just a belly full of “wild ideas” kind of closet pervert!
Song Shi’an’s mind was completely blank, and only after a long while did he manage to recover his senses.
Immediately, he was so embarrassed he wanted to find a crack in the ground and crawl in.
But even if there were a crack, he couldn’t crawl in—he had to give an explanation to Jiang Chun, or else she would misunderstand him.
Song Shi’an hurriedly tried to spit it out, but perhaps because he was too flustered, after trying several times, he still didn’t manage to do it.
Jiang Chun was tickled numb by his actions, so comfortable that she closed her eyes, letting out a soft ‘hng hng’ sound.
Song Shi’an’s movements paused.
He raised his head from in front of her, saw her lying back on the pillow, apricot eyes half-closed, teeth pressing against her lips, with a look of both restraint and pleasure.
Clearly, she very much liked him doing that to her.
He pursed his lips, tangled in his thoughts for a good while.
After a long time, he let out a long sigh, then lowered his face back down and continued the thing he had been doing just now.
Since she liked this, then he would follow her wishes.
Dazed for a moment, a flash of inspiration passed through his mind—he used the set of techniques he had learned from her.
Jiang Chun nearly couldn’t take it, her mouth letting out endless little ‘hng hng ji ji’ sounds.
Song Shi’an was greatly encouraged, then turned to the other side, likewise giving the full set of techniques.
Jiang Chun was so happy she could die, and inevitably got aroused. If not for the fact that his body was still weak from illness, she would have directly wanted to Dunlun with him right then and there.
Just as she was about to lose control of her own desire, she arduously called a halt: “Enough, enough, Husband, you’re still sick, it’s not suitable to do too much mouth-tongue movement, let’s stop here for today.”
Song Shi’an: “……”
The sense of shame he had barely suppressed surged back all at once.
He became angry from embarrassment and shouted: “You shut up! No one’s treating you like a mute!”
Jiang Chun pursed her lips and muttered under her breath: “I’m doing this for your own good. If we keep going, I can’t guarantee I won’t hold back from pushing you down.”
Song Shi’an: “……”
Listen, listen, listen to this female bandit queen’s way of speaking—he was about to think that he’d been snatched up by her as a captive husband.
But he didn’t dare take the risk. If she really did what she said, with his current frail body, plus still being sick, he would definitely lose his life.
After surviving six months of torture and interrogation in the Tianlao [Heaven’s Prison], he didn’t lose his life, but if he died here, he really couldn’t bear to lose face like that.
So he decisively shifted his position, cleared out his mouth, buried his face into the two soft mounds, and then closed his eyes.
Jiang Chun let out a soft sigh of relief.
…
She decided that once the warming stove was made, she would decisively stop sharing a bedding with him.
Sleeping in his arms was comfortable, yes, but only being able to look and not eat was too torturous.
He was suffering, and she was also suffering.
Just now, it wasn’t only her who got aroused—he himself had also changed.
For the sake of both their health, it was better for each to sleep in their own quilt.
But what should be praised still had to be praised—if she didn’t encourage him, he might think she didn’t like it, feel discouraged, and refuse to serve her so actively like this in the future. Then what would she do?
This was a matter concerning the happiness of her remaining lifetime—she absolutely couldn’t be careless about it.
She mulled over her wording, then said “moved,”: “Husband treating me like this, I’m truly so happy, and I really like it.”
Song Shi’an: “……”
He was just trying hard to fall asleep—sleep would resolve all worries; maybe when he woke up, he could forget what had happened tonight.
But she wouldn’t let him pretend nothing had happened, and even openly spoke of such, such shameful matters…
This woman really didn’t know what “shame” was!
He replied quickly, his words flying out: “Got it. It’s getting late, let’s sleep.”
Jiang Chun heard the panic and shame in his tone and couldn’t help teasing: “Does Husband not want to hear my evaluation of your technique?”
Without even thinking, Song Shi’an replied: “Don’t want.”
Still want to evaluate his technique?
Might as well have a bolt of lightning strike down from the heavens and blast him back to his previous life—he’d rather go be an old man with graying hair and weak legs than experience such utterly shameful matters.
Jiang Chun “tsk”-ed and said with a sigh: “That’s really a pity. My evaluations are quite professional—Husband would have benefited greatly.”
After all, in her past life, she had watched at least hundreds, if not thousands, of pigs run by—her theoretical knowledge was rather rich. She was a true mouth warrior [嘴上王者, someone who’s very good at talking but less so in action].
Song Shi’an mumbled vaguely: “Can’t hear, can’t hear, I’m already asleep.”
Jiang Chun: “……”
Goodness, he even used her own trick of playing dumb!
What was this called? Near vermilion, one turns red; near ink, one turns black.
Of course, she was the vermilion.
- ••
Perhaps it was thanks to the medicine prescribed by Dr. Xiao Qi, but Song Shi’an’s cold came fast and went fast, getting better day by day.
The mud outside hadn’t even dried yet, but his illness was already fully cured.
Jiang Chun shamelessly declared herself the true hero—if it weren’t for her acting as a human-shaped hot water bottle, how could he have recovered so quickly?
Song Shi’an, though he was angry, didn’t dare speak up and silently accepted her claim.
Because he was very farsighted—he predicted that if he dared to refute her, she would surely bring up how the two of them had slept in the same bed without clothes, and might even mention that thing he had kissed in front of her chest.
So he very sensibly kept his mouth shut.
Jiang Chun was very satisfied with his sensibility, and so, taking advantage of the time between selling meat, she worked day and night on needlework, and in half a month’s time, she managed to finish sewing him another set of padded clothes and an extra quilt.
This day, Jiang He reminded her: “Fang Carpenter had someone tell us that our mule cart is finished. After you’re done selling meat tomorrow, remember to go to the carpenter’s shop and bring the cart back.”
“Okay, Dad.” Jiang Chun agreed cheerfully.
Then she said happily: “Waited more than half a month—finally the mule cart is ready! With the cart, Dad can drive it to collect pigs in the future, no more walking everywhere.”
Jiang He waved his hand and said: “No need. Dad will just collect pigs in the few nearby villages; walking is fine, and it’s easier to herd the pigs. The cart is for you to use, so you don’t have to push that single-wheel cart every day and tire yourself out.”
Jiang Chun cast Jiang He a sidelong glance, amused, and said: “Dad, what are you saying? Did you forget your daughter was born with great strength? That single-wheel cart only ever loads a bit over a hundred jin of pork each time, I don’t feel the slightest bit tired pushing it.”
Jiang He was resolutely opposed. Before, when his daughter had said buying a mule cart was for her convenience traveling back and forth to town, he had agreed. But it turned out she had kept something up her sleeve.
Jiang Chun also insisted. After all, it only took her an hour to walk to town—she could consider it as exercise for her body. For such a short distance, there was no need to use a mule cart.
It was Jiang He, on the other hand, who, every time he had to collect several pigs, struggled a lot to herd them back—wouldn’t it be better to tie them up and throw them into the mule cart bed?
Father and daughter each held their own views, arguing back and forth in heated voices.
Song Shi’an, listening in from the west room, heard every single word, and walked out, saying indifferently: “What’s there to argue about? Just buy another mule cart. It’s not like the family lacks silver.”
Jiang He: “……”
Jiang Chun: “……”
What he said… really did make a lot of sense.