TFRLTOP Chapter 39 Part 2

She yanked her hand back, threw herself onto the bed, and the soft bedding instantly made her drowsy.

Yan Junsheng glanced again at her answers. Suddenly, his brows furrowed. “Juan’er, your politics—”

!!!

“Ahhhhhh!” Ming Ming shrieked like a madwoman, sprang up, dove at Yan Junsheng, smacked the paper and pen right out of his hand, and hooked an arm around his neck to drag him toward the bed.

His hand came to rest on her waist. He lowered his head, frowning. “Don’t mess around. I’m being serious—”

“Husband.”

The sudden word caught him off guard.

“Even if you—”

“Husband!” Ming Ming tilted her face up, staring at him with big pleading eyes.

Who could resist that?

Yan Junsheng’s breath stalled. In his heart, he told himself: She’s already… she’s already like this. What harm is there in giving in?

She called me… she called me…

Yan Junsheng surrendered in an instant. “Alright, alright. Sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Yay!” Ming Ming shot back onto the bed, burrowed under the covers, and wrapped herself up like a cocoon.

He tidied things up, then returned to lie down. Ming Ming had her head turned toward the wall, leaving him the outside so he wouldn’t disturb her when he got up in the morning.

Leaning over, he patted her gently through the blanket, a little hesitant but also hopeful. “Didn’t you say… you wanted to…”

Ming Ming turned her head, poked her face out, and mimicked his earlier gentle tone: “Be good. Not tonight. You need your rest.”

Yan Junsheng: “…”

Resigned, he lifted the covers and lay down properly.

It was the first time since their wedding that they’d shared a bed. Yan Junsheng couldn’t help sneaking glances at her. Even with her eyes shut in the dark, Ming Ming could feel his burning gaze.

“You’ve got something to say?” she asked.

He murmured a quiet “Mm,” but said nothing more.

She waited and waited until she nearly drifted off. What’s this guy struggling with? Is he thinking about his childhood sweetheart? Torn between guilt and duty to me? Can’t decide which way to go?

Men with a strong sense of responsibility were such a damn headache.

At last, after what felt like forever, he finally seemed to have worked out the words. He hesitated, then began:

“Your politics—”

Ming Ming: ???

Men with a sense of responsibility were so fucking annoying!

“Shut up and go to sleep!” she barked mercilessly.

Yan Junsheng clamped his mouth shut.

At last, silence returned to the night.

The next morning was bright and sunny. Ming Ming sat in the yard with a stool and a pile of sunflower seeds, watching Yan Junsheng collect eggs from the chicken coop. That used to be her chore, but ever since she’d been pecked half to death by a mother hen, the job had been handed over to him.

Not that she ever admitted it was her own fault for messing with the chickens in the first place.

A big white goose waddled up to her. She stroked it a couple of times, almost plucked a feather, then thought better of it.

Forget it—she was still feeling weak today, her waist hurt, and she didn’t want to get chased around.

“The spring planting’s pretty much wrapped up. In a couple days, you should head to the supply-and-marketing co-op,” Yan Junsheng said.

“Sure.” Ming Ming cracked seeds like a pro—crunch, crunch, crunch. A neat little pile of shells soon built up at her feet.

Yan Junsheng came over with half a basket of eggs. “If you see anything you want there, anything you want to eat, just buy it.”

He added grandly, “You’re in charge of our family’s finances now. Buy whatever you like—no need to hold back.”

Ming Ming suddenly went into a violent coughing fit. Yan Junsheng thought she’d choked on a seed and rushed over, only to realize she was working herself into a performance.

She rasped in an exaggerated old woman’s voice, hunched over, croaking, “Junsheng… you mustn’t waste that money. That’s the dowry fund we’re saving up for your wife!”

“If you blow it all, you’ll never marry, and you’ll be a lonely bachelor for life!”

Yan Junsheng: “…”

Since when was she this dramatic?

Actually… she always had been.

Memories flashed through his mind—her brazen antics at the wedding, forcing a kiss on him in front of everyone, turning around to flirt with Wang Hu just to confuse people. The night she came home drunk with Wang Hu, she was still able to clown around with him like nothing mattered. Just a few days ago at Chen Weiguo’s place, I was chatting with Wang Hu across the fence until the two of them practically broke into an impromptu skit.

Now that he thought about it, Wang Hu always managed to play along with her. Maybe it was because they’d grown up in the same village, more familiar than most.

Out of the ten times he’d run into Wang Hu, eight were at cockfights, and the other two, the guy was pestering someone else’s wife.

What was so great about a man like that?

Or was it that she just liked men who could keep up with her games?

That thought nagged at him. So he decided to play along: “Then what’ll I do? If I blow it all, I’ll be a bachelor, and you’ll have to support me. We’ll be partners for life—you feed me, and I’ll cook, do laundry, feed the sheep, chop wood… and maybe you’ll let me share half your bed?”

Ming Ming clearly enjoyed the improv. Narrowing her eyes, she asked with a smile, “But that’s your dowry fund. What’ll you do if it’s gone?”

“Dowry fund, dowry fund—who else am I supposed to spend it on if not my wife?”

Yan Junsheng reached out and gave her cheek a gentle pinch. He was about to say more when—

Ming Ming shot up like lightning, her face twisting in horror. She scrubbed furiously at her cheek, wailing, “You touched me with the same hand that touched chicken shit! Are you insane? Are you insane? Ahhhh!”

Yan Junsheng: “…”

And just like that, the moment was ruined.

Expressionless, he turned and walked back into the house.