TFRLTOP Chapter 47 Part 1

Chapter 47: The Educated Youth’s Long-Suffering Wife 

Shameful? Maybe. Useful? Not at all!

Back when they were young, Chen Weiguo and Yuan Chenglong used to be friends. Even though their villages were right next to each other, they had hardly kept in touch over the years. Finally, after so long, they managed to meet. At noon, the two of them shared some drinks at Yuan’s place, catching up on old times ‘ sake. Mingming excused herself and went home first with the things she had brought.

When she got back, Yan Junsheng was already there, seated by the window, writing something—probably a letter.

Mingming quickly shoved the package into the bottom of the wardrobe, then acted like nothing had happened and went out again. Just then, Yan Junsheng put away his letter and turned his head toward her, his expression deadly serious.

The desk was spotless.

Mingming: “…”

Tch.

“How’s your political theory coming along?” Yan Junsheng asked, picking up the book on politics lying nearby and flipping it open.

Mingming rolled her eyes skyward.

“Come here, let’s start with something simple.” His tone was warm, friendly—even deceptively so—as he crooked a finger at her.

Mingming eyed him with suspicion.

“Tell me,” he asked, “what exactly is a planned economy?”

Oh, for crying out loud…

Mingming stammered for ages, sounding like someone with constipation: “It’s when the government… uh, about production… and distribution… distribution decisions in the economy?”

Yan Junsheng gave her a look full of encouragement, like she’d at least tried.

But she couldn’t think of another word. Mingming shut up—silence is golden, after all.

He raised an eyebrow, giving her a hint: “The control of production, resource distribution, and product consumption… what?”

Mingming stared at her toes. Screw it.

He sighed, shut the book, and gave her that look. Her head immediately buzzed like it was about to explode. She could feel it in her bones—here came one of his long lectures.

The thought alone made her eyes glaze over like she’d just inhaled mosquito coil fumes.

Too scary. I need to find a way to shut him up.

“The so-called planned economy,” he began, “is also known as—”

Before he could finish, Mingming decisively plopped herself down on his lap, threw her arms around his neck, and planted a big kiss on his lips.

Yan Junsheng froze for a moment, his composure intact, and continued evenly, “—also known as a command economy, or directive economy, which is—”

Mingming kissed him again.

He stubbornly kept going: “—is—”

She slipped out her tongue to lick his lips.

Is… is… what the hell was it again?

Grinding his molars, Yan Junsheng finally gave up, deepening the kiss.

The air grew thin, their breathing ragged, and the tension between them thickened. Standing up, Yan carried her steadily into the inner room. Mingming’s legs clung around his waist, and their lips never parted.

He gently laid her down on the bed, his eyes darkening as he leaned in, ready to go further—

But Mingming suddenly pushed him away and sat up.

He frowned, displeased.

“Hold on.” She shoved him back onto the bed, then went to rummage through the wardrobe. He sat there squinting at her, fingers tapping his leg, his breathing heavy.

At last, she pulled out what she wanted, walked over with an air of mystery, and presented it: a plain white undershirt.

“Tada! Grandpa tank top! Put it on for me!” Her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

After all, with his physique, wearing a tank top snug around his muscles would be ridiculously sexy.

She had even bought it a size too small just for that effect.

Yan chuckled. “When did you buy this?”

“Didn’t notice, did you? I bought it when you went into the fitting room that day.”

“But isn’t a grandpa tank top something I should save until I’m actually old?”

Mingming thought, Oh, please. The whole point is the contrast—your body now, in a grandpa top. Who cares when you’re old?

“So, you want me to put it on?”

She nodded furiously. “Yes, yes!”

Propping himself on the bed with one arm, Yan gave her a leisurely look, his eyes full of mischief.

The next second, he opened his arms toward her. “Well, if you want me to put this on, you’ll have to take off what I’m wearing first.”

“Come on, help me undress.”

Wait a sec—this scene felt awfully familiar.

Suspicious, Mingming immediately shook her head. “No way. You do it yourself.”

“Why not? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how,” he teased, his voice dripping with innuendo. “Think back to how I helped you… first—”

“Alright, shut up!” Mingming snapped, her face blazing.

He did shut up, but his gaze was relentless, dangerous. Tilting his head, he mouthed silently: Hurry up.

Mingming hesitated, then finally caved.

“You—hands—keep them there. Don’t move,” she warned.

“Alright, no problem,” he agreed easily.

Quick as lightning, she unbuttoned his shirt and yanked it off.

“What are you laughing at?”

Yan pressed his lips together and looked away.

“I said, what are you laughing at!” she growled, humiliated. She reached to pinch him, but he chuckled, pulled her into his lap, and trapped her there.

“I was just thinking—were you so fast because you’re terrified I might do something to you… or because you actually want me to?”

“Mm?” He nuzzled and kissed her neck, his hands roving. “Every time I ask you something important, you suddenly play dumb.”

Flustered, Mingming covered his mouth, but she couldn’t stop his hands. “You jerk! I told you to wear it. Why are you stripping me instead?”

Ignoring her protests, Yan held her tight and slipped the tank top over her head.

“I guessed it’d be too small for me, and I was right. But for you—it fits just right.” He leaned back, eyes roaming over her with smug satisfaction.

Fits just right, my ass!

Sure, maybe it was just a little too small for him—but on her, the thing was enormous.

Damn it. Tried to trick him and ended up screwing myself.

Mingming wanted to crawl into a hole.

All she wanted was to see some bursting muscles under a tight tank top, but now she was the one stuck wearing it, practically drowning in the fabric.

And it was a tank top! With its low collar, several sizes too big, it covered practically nothing. Mingming was mortified, wriggling uncomfortably. Worse, Yan had her arms pinned behind her, forcing her to arch her chest, unable to move.

“Mm, mm.” He clicked his tongue, thoroughly enjoying the view, and with one hand flipped open that political theory book again.

“I think,” he said slowly, “this might actually be the perfect time for you to concentrate.”

“I’ll read, you repeat.”

The droning voice drilled into Mingming’s ears like torture. She couldn’t even cry if she wanted to.

…

Yan Junsheng’s voice stayed steady and calm. His eyes didn’t even flicker toward Mingming as he focused completely on reciting theory from the book.