Chapter 46

He Fang was just about to go to the male educated youth dormitory to borrow something. As she passed by Shen Weimin’s room, she heard a familiar male voice.

Surprised, she quickly hid behind the eaves.

Inside the room, two people were whispering to each other in low, muffled voices. After listening for a long while, He Fang managed to catch a few scattered words: “divorce,” “Shuiya,” “don’t like.”

Piecing them together, a wave of elation surged in her heart.

Was Xie Tingyu finally fed up with Ye Qingshui and planning to divorce her?

Just then, the two people speaking walked out of the room one after the other. He Fang held her breath and crouched down by the corner of the eaves. She watched Xie Tingyu’s departing back, and vaguely saw the side of his face… was that a slap mark?

Was it Ye Qingshui who hit him?

He Fang was momentarily filled with both anger and heartache.

The man she held so dear—not even willing to harm a single strand of his hair—what right did Ye Qingshui have to hit him?

A glint of contemplation flashed in He Fang’s eyes.

…

Ye Qingshui, carrying a full jar of mango-banana desserts, headed to the county town. Staying at home meant facing Xie Tingyu, which felt suffocating.

She would rather brave the scorching sun to sell desserts at the black market than stay at home.

In a moment of panic, she had slapped Xie Tingyu.

Even now, thinking about it, Ye Qingshui still felt a bit uncertain.

With Xie Tingyu’s temper—not particularly good and prone to holding grudges—he had probably never been hit by a woman in his life. And in just three short days, she had slapped him twice…

He was probably going to hold that against her for a long time.

But maybe now Xie Tingyu had finally sobered up.

There was still a lingering itchiness on Ye Qingshui’s neck, along with a lingering unpleasant sensation.

Serves him right! Any later, and she might’ve been groped and kissed by him already.

Thinking this, the slap felt a little satisfying, and Ye Qingshui carried her puffs to the city with no guilt at all.

In just a month, it would be the Mid-Autumn Festival. Apart from the Spring Festival, it was the most important traditional holiday. City folks with some spare money would return home for family reunions and visit relatives and friends—fruits, cookies, and snacks were essential.

The sweets and pastries at the supply and marketing cooperatives were expensive—a yuan per jin (500g), almost as costly as pork.

Ye Qingshui planned to make a quick profit. These days, factory-made candies had an overwhelming saccharine taste, and the biscuits were the most basic kind—far inferior to her desserts.

Ye Qingshui also remembered that with the arrival of autumn, her uncle Ye Zhongjian would soon be discharged from the army and return home.

Not only was he coming back safe and sound, he was bringing back a body full of injuries.

Back in the day, to help the family make ends meet, Ye Zhongjian had lied about his age at sixteen, claiming he was eighteen, and enlisted. In his seven years of service, he threw himself into every mission with full effort. He was a combat engineer responsible for clearing landmines—sometimes injured by accidental explosions. This year, his old injuries flared up again, making it impossible for him to stay in the military.

After he returned, even his gait was wrong. In others’ eyes, he was a “cripple” who could barely walk properly.

Marriage prospects were bleak, but he had always treated Ye Qingshui well, often slipping her pocket money. His monthly allowance of 20 yuan was almost entirely sent back home. It went to paying off the debts incurred from Grandpa’s illness. After seven years, he could no longer bear the burden and tearfully left the army.

If not for Uncle, their family—an orphaned mother and daughter—would’ve starved to death long ago.

Ye Qingshui had to earn more money so that when he came back, she could help him treat his leg properly.

Ye Qingshui put on a straw hat and mask, covering herself thoroughly, and carefully entered the black market.

She took out the mango and banana puffs from her jar and arranged them neatly.

Freshly baked, they still retained a bit of warmth. A fragrant aroma wafted from the jar’s mouth. As soon as the lid was lifted, a tempting scent filled the air.

The puffs were made with milk, giving them a gentle, comforting creaminess. The sweet aroma tickled the hearts of the young women nearby, drawing them in to inquire.

“My friend’s getting married today. I’m checking the black market for a good gift,” one girl said.

Ye Qingshui beamed as she handed her a sample.

“You’ve come to the right place. Give your friend some of these desserts—it’s thoughtful and elegant. Sweet desserts mean a sweet mouth, sweet heart, and sweet life.”

The girl worked at a factory and had a decent income, with a bit of spending flexibility.

She had just asked casually, but after biting into the small banana puff, there was a crisp “crack” as the flaky shell broke. A rich, tender banana aroma filled her nose—sweet and intense. The creamy filling swirled softly around her tongue, slowly melting, blending with a faint milk fragrance.

Even the crisp crust was incredibly tasty!

That soft, delightful sweetness seeped into the heart—it was pure happiness in a bite.

A look of amazement crossed the girl’s face.

It was gone in a flash. She quickly pulled out some money. “I’ll take two yuan’s worth—do I need to give any coupons or ration tickets?”

Ye Qingshui replied with a gentle smile, “Ten cents for four pieces. Twenty pieces will require one jin of grain coupons.”

Someone nearby gasped, “So tiny, and it’s that expensive!”

Ye Qingshui responded seriously, “These are premium pastries—stuff you can’t even buy at the supply co-op. They’re made with real milk and eggs, freshly picked fruit, delicious and nutritious. Way better than those cheap hard candies.”

“Really? Can I try one?”

Ye Qingshui was generous. She offered samples to the curious crowd gathering around.

Everyone picked up a fruit puff and took a bite with a “crack,” and their eyes lit up to varying degrees, all sharing the same amazed expression as the first girl.

One after another, customers pulled out their money:

“Give me twenty pieces!”

“I’ll take five!”

“Save fifteen for me—I’m visiting a friend!”

“Weigh me a couple of taels—no, I’ll take everything in your jar!”

…

Under the blazing sun, Ye Qingshui carefully slipped out through another alleyway of the black market. Her wallet, flat when she came, was now bulging with bills.

She only found time to count her money when she reached a secluded mountain path. This time, she had earned a total of four yuan, fifty-eight cents—even more than what she made from selling breakfast.

Clutching the warm cash, Ye Qingshui happily headed back to the countryside.

She rode her bicycle down the main path toward the production team, then turned into a quieter side road.

Just as she was nearing home, she caught sight of Xie Tingyu’s tall figure in the distance. Seeing him made her feel a bit uneasy, so she kept her gaze straight ahead and pedaled faster.

As she got closer, she realized that Xie Tingyu was talking to the educated youth He Fang from the team.

The sun still held its noonday heat, making people sweat under its scorching rays.

He Fang lifted her head and gazed at Xie Tingyu with admiration in her eyes. She said:

“Brother Yu, I know you don’t like Ye Qingshui, but I—&\%#￥%…”

“If you got a divorce, I—I—”

Xie Tingyu’s eyes flicked to the side and spotted Ye Qingshui not far away. Judging by the look on her face, he knew she was trying to pretend she hadn’t seen them and just pass by on her bike.

Xie Tingyu instinctively raised his head and smiled at her.

Then, he gave He Fang a cold glance.

“Who told you that? You don’t need to say things like that again.”

He Fang’s face flushed from pale to dark green.

Xie Tingyu then chased after the bicycle, taking large strides and catching up to Ye Qingshui in just a few steps.

Ye Qingshui was absolutely terrified of this man—afraid he’d go crazy like last time and forcibly hold her bicycle back to stop her.

She took a deep breath, squeezed the brakes, and jumped off the bike.

Xie Tingyu smiled faintly, his soft smile lingering in his eyes. He said:

“Shui’er, aren’t you going to ask what that educated youth just said to me?”

Ye Qingshui could guess it with her toes. In their past life, after the divorce, that He Fang girl hadn’t even tried to hide her smiles.

She could see right through He Fang’s intentions toward Xie Tingyu.

Ye Qingshui didn’t want to ask at all. If she could, she would’ve happily wrapped Xie Tingyu up in a colorful ribbon, tied a bow, and shipped him off. Whoever wanted him could have him!

Xie Tingyu chuckled softly, voice low:

“I didn’t catch it either. I was too busy watching you.”

As he spoke, he pushed the bike over to the edge of the eaves and parked it. He cleared his throat, then stepped forward, trying to take her hand.

Ye Qingshui shot him an annoyed glare, subtly moving her hand away.

“What are you doing?”

Xie Tingyu looked regretful. He stepped closer, hesitated a moment, and gently pulled her into a hug.

Ye Qingshui’s head barely reached his lips. He could easily hold her by the shoulders. Smiling, Xie Tingyu coughed lightly and said:

“I don’t know why your attitude suddenly changed, but I’ve been thinking… I know I’ve made mistakes in the past. But Shui’er, we’re already married now. Can we… not mention divorce so easily?”

He let out a helpless sigh.

The girl in his arms started struggling—kicking and punching him.

To Xie Tingyu, it felt like he was being scratched by a cat—painful, but oddly satisfying.

He groaned softly.

Then he bent down and rested his chin on her shoulder:

“Did you see that He Fang girl just now? Looking at her reminded me of how you used to be. Back then, you’d come find me all the time—deliberately talk to me, ask me all kinds of questions. Sometimes you were clumsy and childish, couldn’t even get your words straight. But back then, I tolerated you—I allowed you to be around.”

“So… maybe this time, could you forgive me too?”

Author’s Note:

The female supporting character collapses and spits blood.

Author (handing her a tissue): “Get up. You can still fight for another 300 rounds.”

He Fang: dead

He Fang (wiping off blood, angrily): “Why were my lines just &\%#￥%?”

Author: “Because Xie Tingyu wasn’t even paying attention at the time.”

So…

He Fang: “…”

Author: “Tingyu, you’ve mastered emotional manipulation and sympathy baiting, huh?”

Scheming against Shui’er one move at a time.

Xie Tingyu: “…”

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