“They got together?” Peng Juan muttered to herself, her mind slow to catch up. How come she didn’t know about this?
“Yeah, not many people know about it, but one of my aunts lives near their place. She heard that the girl was making a huge fuss about marrying your brother-in-law—it was quite the commotion, so my aunt caught wind of it.” Niu Yongfang finished, then eyed Peng Juan suspiciously. “You live under the same roof—didn’t you know about your brother-in-law’s business?”
Peng Juan froze, her heart racing. She instinctively denied it: “Of course I knew.”
Niu Yongfang didn’t think much of it and continued gossiping, a hint of schadenfreude in her voice. “Why didn’t your brother-in-law hold onto her? Her family’s not badly off—if she’d married in, she might have helped your family out.”
“Too bad she’s found herself a city man now. I hear they’re getting married soon.”
Peng Juan listened, recalling the day the Lin family had come bearing gifts to thank them. The father and son had both been neatly dressed, proper and refined. They’d brought so many gifts, treating the future bride like a precious treasure. At the time, Peng Juan had secretly mocked them—spending so much on a daughter who’d marry out anyway was a waste, she’d thought. She’d called them fools.
Now she realized she was the fool.
If she’d known her brother-in-law and that girl were involved, she should have encouraged them to stay together. As Niu Yongfang said, the Lin girl had been so desperate to marry him—she was clearly head over heels. Once she married in, she’d probably bring plenty of good things from her family. And since they’d all be living under the same roof, surely some of that would trickle down to her?
But now it was too late. The girl had found a city man—why would she look back at her brother-in-law?
Peng Juan could have kicked herself. But then it hit her—why had her brother-in-law never mentioned this at home? She’d bet Huang Xiuying didn’t know either.
Who was he keeping this from?
Whoever it was, she wasn’t going to let it slide. She couldn’t swallow this. Gritting her teeth, she churned through a few ideas, then turned and walked off, ignoring Niu Yongfang calling after her.
Back in the front yard, all the men of the family were standing under the eaves, sorting their baskets and sickles—getting ready to head to the fields. Peng Juan’s gaze drifted to Meng Baoguo.
He was tall, head down, tying a rag around the strap of his carrying basket. Wrapping it a few times would ease the pressure—otherwise, carrying a hundred pounds of rice on his back, the bamboo straps would dig into his skin.
As if sensing her stare, he shot her a look—cold and piercing. His face was expressionless, but just as quickly, he looked away. Peng Juan gasped in shock.
It was as if he’d seen right through her.
He’d been acting strange lately—not greeting her anymore, though he used to. And he’d even started talking back to his mother once in a while, something he’d never done before.
Still, the changes were subtle. He was still obedient and hardworking. Peng Juan patted her chest to calm herself.
“Slacking off again? Are the chores done?”
Her ear was yanked, and she shrunk back, following the force. Turning, she met Huang Xiuying’s hateful, disgusted eyes. She quickly said: “Mother, I wasn’t slacking. I have something to tell you.”
“What is it? Spit it out.” Huang Xiuying sized her up suspiciously.
“Let’s go to the back.” Peng Juan glanced at Meng Baoguo, then pulled Huang Xiuying toward the backyard. The latter followed, half-convinced.
Under the eaves, Meng Baoguo watched them leave, frowning.
—
The rice harvest went on for over half a month, with the whole village working nonstop. No sooner had they caught their breath than it was time to dry the grain.
Xiao Cheng and Zhou Jin had stayed at the Lin house the whole time, helping with everything. They’d both gotten tanned, but looked sturdier, more masculine.
They’d arrived in crisp white shirts and black trousers, but now they wore the new tunics and pants Zhang Wenhua had sewn—just like any other village man. If it weren’t for his refined bearing, Xiao Cheng could have passed for a local farmhand.
“Come here—I made some tea.” Lin Aiyun called out to Xiao Cheng as he was about to pour himself some cold water, waving him over with a smile.
He jogged over, still glistening with sweat, and drank a big gulp of the cold tea right from her hand. She dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief: “Aren’t you supposed to be watching the grain in the square? Why are you back?”
“Zhou Jin came back from town, so I left him in charge.” He glanced around, not seeing Zhang Wenhua, and asked: “Where’s my mother-in-law?”
Hearing his casual, familiar address, Lin Aiyun’s face reddened. She shot him a playful glare. He really knew how to win people over—in no time at all, he’d charmed Zhang Wenhua and the others into willingly accepting him as their son-in-law.
So privately, he’d started calling them “father-in-law” and “mother-in-law” without a hint of hesitation, saying he’d wait until the formal tea ceremony to call them “Dad” and “Mom.”
Zhang Wenhua and the others didn’t seem to mind—in fact, every time they heard him say it, they were over the moon.
But it was all earned with sincerity. Xiao Cheng had been nothing but helpful these past days—chopping wood, carrying water, giving shoulder rubs, even learning how to plant vegetables and fertilize. He said he’d start a little vegetable garden back in the capital so he wouldn’t forget the skills.
Xiao Cheng enjoyed every bit of it, but Lin Aiyun’s heart ached for him. This young, pampered city gentleman had never done such rough work before. He only did it because of her.
“She went next door to visit—should be back soon.” She poured him another cup of water and brought it to his lips, but he wouldn’t drink. His eyes were fixed on her.
She could read the desire in them. Her heart quickened, and she instinctively stepped back—but he caught her waist and pulled her close.
They were alone in the house, the quiet thick and intimate.
“Let me hold you. I haven’t even touched your finger in days—I’ve missed you so much.” His voice was low, full of tender words. He expected to have to coax her—she’d been shy here, with her parents and brother always around.
And lately, everyone had been busy with the harvest and wedding preparations, leaving no time for affection.
But the next second, a pair of soft hands landed on his back, patting him gently like a child.
Xiao Cheng froze for a second, then broke into a satisfied grin. His strong arms locked around her, his chin settling into the curve of her shoulder, lips brushing her collarbone as he spoke, his voice muffled: “The wedding dress is on its way—should be here tomorrow. You have to be the first to show me.”
“Got it.” She gave a light blink and smiled, two shallow dimples appearing on her fair cheeks. Xiao Cheng’s heart stirred. He swallowed, quickly scanned the area, saw no one, and stole a few bites of her lips, leaving two rows of faint teeth marks.
She pursed her lips, and her pink tongue just barely peeked out—but before she could soothe the numb tingling, he caught it, playing and tangling with hers in a bold, wanton dance that left the root of her tongue aching.
“You’re a rogue,” she murmured against his chest, her slender fingers clutching his shirt.
“There’s more where that came from.” Xiao Cheng knew no shame. His hand slid under her hem, rubbing the smooth, pale skin of her waist until it grew hot under his touch. “You’ll find out later. Not yet.”
He was surprisingly restrained in this respect, but she knew it was out of respect for her.
“…” She didn’t answer, just buried her reddened face in his chest.
They lingered a little longer before Xiao Cheng took the water canteen and headed back to the grain-drying square—he couldn’t leave Zhou Jin alone there forever.
Lin Aiyun, seeing her mother still not back, decided to start cooking the rice. But when she checked the condiments, she found they were out of soy sauce. She took the bottle and headed to the village shop.
But she’d barely stepped out and turned the corner when someone grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a large tree. Clearly, they’d been waiting there for her. She instinctively struggled, ready to call out—but a voice stopped her before she could.
“If you don’t want your man to know about your dirty secrets, come quietly.”
She’d recognize that voice anywhere.
But… her dirty secrets? What secrets?
Knowing the person wasn’t bold enough to do anything serious, and seeing she was alone, Lin Aiyun let herself be led into a corner.
“Who are you?” She looked her up and down, pretending not to know her—in truth, in this life, they really hadn’t met yet.
“I’m Meng Baoguo’s sister-in-law.” Peng Juan raised her chin, straightening her back, expecting the name to make Lin Aiyun pale and compliant.
But Lin Aiyun’s expression didn’t waver—not even a flutter of her lashes. She looked perfectly composed.
Her reaction caught Peng Juan off guard. But recalling her purpose, she steeled herself. Her gaze toward Lin Aiyun grew bold and smug.
“Do you need something?” Lin Aiyun’s pretty eyes narrowed with curiosity.
Peng Juan finally let herself take a real look at Lin Aiyun—and once she did, her eyes nearly glued themselves to the girl. She’d been lurking around for days, waiting to catch her alone, always watching from a distance. She knew the girl was pretty. But up close—she was something else entirely.
No wonder that handsome city boy hovered around her like he was throwing himself at her. If she were a man, she’d do the same!
Her features were perfectly proportioned—her eyes, nose, and lips each distinct and exquisitely formed. Her face was small and delicate, her skin pale and soft. Her black hair was braided into a single plait hanging over her chest. Dressed in a light blue-green blouse and black trousers, she looked like a tender willow shoot in spring—vivid and fresh.
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