Chapter 23

The first thought that flashed through Shen Weimin’s mind was: Did Yu-ge get hurt?

After a wave of dust rolled by, a hazy scene emerged—a man bent over, holding a girl in his arms. His back had been scraped by falling concrete, the skin torn and bloody. Whether he had internal injuries was still uncertain.

In that critical moment just now, Xie Tingyu had covered Ye Qingshui’s eyes with his hand. Once the danger passed, he felt a patch of wetness in his palm.

He struggled and joked weakly, “You didn’t get hit—what are you crying for?”

As soon as he finished speaking, his limbs gave out, and he slowly collapsed, his head burying into the crook of Ye Qingshui’s neck. The nearby commune members hurried over in a flurry. “Take him to the commune clinic! Where’s the stretcher?”

Ye Qingshui saw the man’s brows tightly knit from pain. His lips, normally a healthy red, had lost all color and turned pale.

Xie Tingyu’s temples throbbed with sharp pain. Seeing the girl sobbing uncontrollably, he couldn’t help but scold, “Why are you crying? I’m not going to die. Where did that self-sacrificing courage from earlier go?”

Only then did Ye Qingshui realize her face was wet with tears, streaming down one after another. The slight sting in her eyes snapped her back to reality.

She lowered her head and wiped away her tears. “There was sand in my eyes, I swear I’m not lying.”

When the latch inside the truck carriage gave way earlier, some gravel slid down, and a grain of sand had gotten into her eye. That’s why she closed them. After removing the sand and turning back around, she saw that Xie Tingyu had already been taken to the city hospital.

The second thought that flashed through Shen Weimin’s mind was: Even in that state, these two are still quibbling. So these two were both trying to fool me, right!

He didn’t know whether to scold Xie Tingyu or Ye Qingshui, so in the end he just pursed his lips and said nothing. The situation had been genuinely dangerous. Without Ye Qingshui’s warning, it was hard to say what might’ve happened. But Xie Tingyu’s instinctive act of shielding her had shocked Shen Weimin deeply.

No one felt like eating anymore. Shen Weimin picked up the dropped lunch box from the ground and followed the others to the hospital.

At the large hospital, an experienced senior doctor gave Xie Tingyu a thorough examination, realigned his dislocated bones, cleaned and disinfected the wounds, applied medication, and administered injections. All in all, it took the entire afternoon.

When Ye Qingshui saw Xie Tingyu again, his outer shirt had been removed, and he was leaning sideways in a chair, wrapped in bandages. His brows were furrowed, his deep black eyes full of fatigue. His forehead was drenched in sweat, and messy strands of wet hair clung to it. Against his pale face, he had the exhausted, disheveled beauty of someone who had narrowly escaped death.

He had always been strikingly handsome to begin with.

Shen Weimin brought over a cold box of food and held it out to Xie Tingyu.

“Eat, Yu-ge. You haven’t had a single grain of rice all day.”

He picked up a spoon, ready to feed him, but then turned and handed the box to Ye Qingshui. “You feed him.”

Ye Qingshui felt completely flustered. She wanted to push it back to Shen Weimin, but when she saw Xie Tingyu looking so weak and pitiful, her heart softened. Remembering how he’d shielded her from the falling debris, she figured he at least deserved some kindness.

The boxed meal had long gone cold, and the vegetables were limp and yellow. Fortunately, the meat still tasted decent. Ye Qingshui picked out the fatty parts he didn’t like and fed him only the lean meat.

By evening, aside from a few buns in the morning, Xie Tingyu hadn’t eaten anything all day and was starving.

If his arms weren’t injured and immobilized, he probably would’ve wolfed down the meal. But Ye Qingshui fed him patiently, one spoonful at a time.

Xie Tingyu looked down at her eyes—clear and bright like fresh rain in a mountain forest, calm and restrained. Her eyes held an almost otherworldly serenity, like a gentle spring rain soaking into his heart. It made him feel soft and warm inside.

His mind stalled. All he could think of was Ye Qingshui’s naive, pure, and unwavering expression just before the stone had fallen.

A silly girl, willing to risk her life for a man, crying so miserably afterward—this was a first for Xie Tingyu. Does she… love me that much?

Ye Qingshui poked his lips with the spoon, unceremoniously. “Open your mouth. What are you daydreaming about?”

Shen Weimin watched, slack-jawed, as Yu-ge stared at the village girl, completely dumbstruck.

…

Around seven or eight in the evening, Xie Tingyu was finally carried back to the Ye household on a stretcher by the commune members.

His current condition: a minor fracture in the spine, unable to work or move excessively for a while. His arm was bruised, and except for his fingers, the rest was tightly bandaged.

Shen Weimin told Ye Qingshui, “Yu-ge took the hit for you today. If it weren’t for him, your head might’ve split open.”

“So, treat my Yu-ge well.”

Ye Qingshui gave a mental scoff. If I hadn’t foolishly risked my life to push him, Xie Tingyu might’ve been the one with a cracked skull.

Shen Weimin seemed to pick up on her unspoken thoughts. He gave her a deep look but said nothing.

Yu-ge was usually very alert. Who’s to say—without Ye Qingshui, he might’ve been fine anyway.

Ye Qingshui looked at Xie Tingyu, who was now occupying her bed, and said to the patient, “You can sleep here for now. If anything’s inconvenient, I’ll go get Shen Weimin.”

Ye Qingshui certainly didn’t expect herself to be able to move Xie Tingyu—he was a whole grown man, tall and broad-shouldered, probably at least 188 cm. Even though Ye Qingshui was considered tall in the village, she still couldn’t handle such a solidly built man.

Besides, she knew Xie Tingyu was a clean freak—just touching him would drive him crazy. He probably didn’t like being touched by her at all.

Xie Tingyu was placed on Ye Qingshui’s bed, leaning against a pillow she’d sewn with cassia seeds. A faint, soft scent of a girl drifted into his nose.

She was very clean, and her little “personal space” was also tidy and well-kept. The bed was covered with a light blue, plain sheet—somewhat soft and warm.

The pain in Xie Tingyu’s body hadn’t yet subsided, but the fresh scent helped to calm his restless mood a bit.

He asked, “Is there anything to eat?”

Normally, if there wasn’t anything special going on and there was no meat, Ye Qingshui would make a simple egg porridge or her mother would make sweet potato porridge for dinner. Today, Liu Yiliang hadn’t brought back any bones either. Even though Ye Qingshui now had a doctor’s note for nutritional supplements, she still couldn’t go to the store to buy bones.

Xie Tingyu’s forehead was soaked with sweat, and blood was seeping through the gauze on his back—a rare sight of weakness and injury. Luckily, Ye Qingshui was no longer the girl she used to be. Otherwise, her heart would’ve been wrenching in pain.

Now, Ye Qingshui could stay calm, go make a meal, and feed his hungry stomach.

There wasn’t much nutritious food at home, but after thinking for a moment, Ye Qingshui decided to be kind and painfully chose to slaughter half of a chicken to make chicken soup.

The wild chicken from the mountain was very flavorful—the legs and wings were firm and tender, with lean meat despite a large frame. Xie Tingyu didn’t eat the clay-baked chicken at lunch, but if he had, he’d probably never forget it. It was small, tender, oily under the skin, and had a nice bounce to the meat.

Such a beautiful wild mountain chicken would cost over 300 yuan in later years, but now it was being sold cheaply by Qian Xiangdong.

Ye Qingshui chopped some firewood, and patiently and gently prepared the chicken—carefully removing the yellow fat under the skin and massaging in seasoning. She sautéed ginger slices and star anise until fragrant, then simmered everything in a clay pot. Little bubbles gurgled up continuously, and red dates and goji berries, good for the blood, rolled in the clear broth.

Ye Qingshui carefully removed the leg and breast meat from the chicken, skimmed off the golden fat, leaving behind a clear soup.

But then, her old habit of being overly considerate kicked in—thinking about Xie Tingyu’s picky habits, she realized he probably wouldn’t want to eat the chicken skin while sick, so she removed it. Xie Tingyu looked gentle and easygoing, but in private, he had a bunch of annoying quirks—a classic hard-to-please young master.

After peeling off the skin, Ye Qingshui wanted to slap her own hand. Finally, she let the soup cool a little and brought it to Xie Tingyu.

Xie Tingyu smelled the rich aroma of the chicken soup. He was absolutely starving—hungry and thirsty.

He stared at the soup for a long time. Ye Qingshui resignedly scooped some up to feed him.

All the chicken’s essence had seeped into the broth. A spoonful of warm soup filled his mouth, and the flavor spread rapidly. Swallowing it brought a soothing sense of satisfaction, and even after finishing it, a light umami sweetness lingered on his tongue. The soup was mild but delicious.

Another bite of chicken—springy and flavorful—left a lingering aroma in his mouth. After finishing the bowl of chicken soup, his stomach felt warm and comfortable.

Still, he hadn’t had enough, but Xie Tingyu stopped. He was sitting in a somewhat twisted position, with his right arm suspended straight from the bed beam. Occasionally, his hand would brush against Ye Qingshui, and her hanging hair would graze his bare arm. Sometimes she’d lean close—deliberately or not—giving him the illusion that she was intentionally getting near. His arm hurt so much it had gone numb, and he couldn’t even tell if he’d touched her or not.

Every time she came near, a faint warmth would envelop him. As he drank the soup, his gaze inadvertently drifted across her developing chest. His dark, deep eyes quickly darted away, as if burned.

Looking at Ye Qingshui’s calm face, Xie Tingyu was momentarily speechless. “I—I won’t drink anymore…”

Ye Qingshui snorted, “Good. If you drink too much, you’ll be up peeing all night.”

Xie Tingyu’s face darkened slightly, and a faint blush appeared at the tips of his ears.

He scowled and muttered, “I won’t drink, but I still want to eat.”

Ye Qingshui gave him a little rice and fed him.

This time, Xie Tingyu’s clear gaze stared straight ahead, not wandering around, eating mechanically with his mouth opening and closing.

Seeing him cooperate so well and not cause trouble, Ye Qingshui praised, “Do this again tomorrow—it’ll save me a lot of trouble.”

After dinner, Liu Yiliang came by with bones to check on Xie Tingyu.

He said, “I heard everything—Tingyu, you really stepped up this time. Real man stuff.”

Ye Qingshui quickly washed the bones and began boiling them. She added a lot of water to a large pot, skimmed off the scum once it boiled, then switched to thick firewood for a gentle simmer. This kind of slow-cooked overnight broth would be rich and flavorful—perfect for making dumplings or noodle soup.

That night, Ye Qingshui turned over in her sleep. Lying on the hard floor all night had left her sore all over. She got up and made two big trays of chicken buns to hand over to Qian Xiangdong.

Xie Tingyu also woke up. In the past, whenever Ye Qingshui got up in the middle of the night, he’d notice but fall back asleep quickly. Not this night—his hand was numb and aching. He groaned quietly, and a sigh came from across the room.

Soon, the kerosene lamp was lit.

In the light, Xie Tingyu’s face was covered in sweat—he looked pitiful.

“Are you in pain now?”

Ye Qingshui followed the doctor’s instructions and gently wiped off his sweat.

“Yeah, it hurts,” Xie Tingyu lied with his eyes averted. In truth, the bed sheet’s warmth was making him too hot—his body was already full of internal heat, and even a little warmth made him restless.

In a calm, unreadable voice, Xie Tingyu asked, “Shuiya, can you whistle a tune for me?”

He thought such a request—maybe it was allowed…

Ye Qingshui pressed her temples, annoyed by his endless demands. She’d spoiled his bad temper! But seeing him look so miserable yet silently enduring it, she finally picked a leaf, held it to her lips, and softly whistled a melody.

The black cloth that usually served as a screen had been removed, and the fragile barrier of the storage room was now gone. He saw the young girl leaning against the wall, blowing the tune through the leaf.

Her dark hair was tied carelessly into a braid, exposing a long, slender neck. Her worn, short cotton clothes outlined her youthful, delicate curves.

After less than a minute, Xie Tingyu’s faint voice came again: “I don’t want to hear it anymore.”

Ye Qingshui, who had just reached the melody’s peak, abruptly stopped. She crumpled the leaf and nearly cursed out loud.

…

The next day, Shen Weimin came to help Xie Tingyu with toileting and washing.

He clicked his tongue. “Helping you take a piss is one thing—but washing you too? What do I look like, your servant?”

His gaze drifted to Xie Tingyu’s lower half. He let out a long “ohhh” and suspiciously said, “I thought you weren’t a virgin anymore, the way you risked your life to protect her that day.”

If Xie Tingyu weren’t injured, Shen Weimin would’ve been beaten to a pulp. But there was nothing he could do now—he was a tiger with his teeth pulled.

Shen Weimin mocked him shamelessly, “Guess you’re just like me after all.”

“How’s breakfast? Good?” Shen Weimin bit into a bun and chewed silently. “So good. Alright, I’m off to work. Looking forward to Shuiya’s lunch.”

Xie Tingyu shot him a cold glare and said nothing.

Under pressure, Shen Weimin turned on the radio. “Here, listen to this, don’t be mad.”

“Shuiya will come back and talk with you later.”

At noon, Ye Qingshui packed Shen Weimin’s lunch and rode her bike to deliver it.

Seeing her put on a straw hat and get ready to leave, Xie Tingyu said coolly, “I haven’t had lunch yet.”

She replied, “I’m going to deliver lunch to Shen Weimin. I’ll feed you when I get back—it’s the same.”

She noticed his eyes twitch at the corners—a sign of impending anger—and added, “I’ll be quick, won’t even take half an hour.”

Xie Tingyu raised his voice. A flicker of fire lit in his dark eyes, his tone laced with hidden danger: “Can I be the same as him?”

“How are you not the same? At least he paid.”

Ye Qingshui thought he was accusing her of treating him like a sick person who shouldn’t have to wait. Not wanting him to get overly agitated and affect his recovery, she quickly put on her mask and explained, “Your chicken soup is still simmering—it needs half an hour.”

Watching her storm off, Xie Tingyu’s face darkened. He took a deep breath and let out a cold laugh.

Author’s Note:

Tingyu: Hah, this is how you show love?

Shuiya, you’re done for.

Interviewer: Shuiya, how did it feel to answer Tingyu’s killer question just now?

Shuiya: ???

(Completely unaware of what a “killer question” is—a total dense straight girl)

Interviewer: Lights a candle for Tingyu

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