Chapter 73

“How is that a dream? Teacher Zhou, you really underestimate yourself. If these books you’ve compiled are published, you’ll surely earn royalties.”

Ye Qingshui recalled that in her past life, although she hadn’t sat for that year’s Gaokao (university entrance exams), Xie Tingyu had. During his preparations, she was even more nervous than he was, always eager to hunt for news whenever there was the slightest update.

Back when the Gaokao were restored, a set of Math, Physics, and Chemistry Self-Study Series from the S City printing factory had sold out immediately. To buy those rare study materials, people queued up early in the morning, and within ten minutes of the bookstore opening, the books were gone. Some even begged friends in S City to send copies through the mail.

Turning over Zhou Cunren’s manuscripts, she noticed one was labeled “Third Revised Edition.”

Awe rose within her. Even though he worked without hope, as if doing “thankless labor,” the old man’s rigor never faltered.

Gradually, Ye Qingshui’s eyes filled with light. She believed these painstakingly written books would one day be published!

Suddenly, Zhou Ke lifted his head, his dark, glossy eyes shining with longing. “That’s wonderful! Grandpa, we’ll have money for your treatment!”

Zhou Cunren was silent for a long time after hearing Ye Qingshui’s words.

“Published?”

Ye Qingshui nodded firmly.

His hands trembled uncontrollably, and in that instant, a warm current surged through his chest. To hide his swelling emotions, he bowed his head and forced himself to keep writing.

Ye Qingshui reached into her rucksack, took out some cured meat, and said, “I didn’t know before I came, but since Teacher Zhou is sick, you shouldn’t eat this. You need more nourishment—soft, liquid foods.”

Luckily, she had also bought five jin of flour and three jin of rice. As she spoke, she discreetly slipped some money and ration coupons into the supplies.

“Ke’er, do you know how to take care of Grandpa?”

Zhou Ke nodded.

These past days, while he himself ate dry, choking meals, he always made soft porridge for his grandfather.

“Drink more warm water, and keep your spirits up,” Ye Qingshui reminded.

After saying that, she rolled up her sleeves, went to the supply co-op, bought ten jin of coal briquettes, and carried them back briskly.

Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she asked,

“May I take this manuscript home to copy?”

“Take it,” Zhou Cunren said.

After she left, Zhou Ke opened the woven bag she’d left behind. Moving slowly, he pulled out a sack of flour, a bag of rice, and at the very bottom—scattered bills and ration coupons.

Freshly milled flour, white as snow, fragrant with wheat. Rice grains translucent and plump, releasing a sweet aroma. Fifty yuan in cash, and thirty jin of grain coupons.

So much…

Zhou Ke sniffled hard. He would never forget the life-saving provisions Ye Qingshui had given them.

Meanwhile, Ye Qingshui pedaled her bicycle toward the department store. She had originally planned to buy a bike during this trip to the county, as she had both the ration ticket and money—it wouldn’t have been difficult.

But her pockets now held the thick manuscript, warm and heavy.

Zhou Cunren’s medical fees would be no small sum. Even if the manuscripts were eventually published, there was still a long road before they could bring in royalties.

Just before reaching the department store, Ye Qingshui turned her handlebars and rode toward the black market.

There she found Qian Xiangdong still selling his eggs. Seeing her return, he was startled.

“You again?”

Ye Qingshui drew out a freshly issued bicycle ticket and asked,

“If I sell this, how much can I get?”

He thought for a moment.

“Maybe… a hundred yuan?”

In small county towns, bicycles were rare luxury items, unlike in big cities where supply was better. Tickets were scarce, and so prices soared.

His expression loosened. “What, you’re really going to sell it? Alright, I’ll ask around for you.”

Then Ye Qingshui slipped off the watch on her wrist.

“A Longines. I bought it in the capital for over two hundred yuan. Don’t sell it cheap.”

Qian Qian Xiangdong finally realized her situation.

“You’re really strapped for cash, huh? Well, that can be good—work harder at trading food every day, stay busy!”

He rambled on endlessly about being a scalper.

Ye Qingshui only listened quietly, lips curving slightly.

When he finished, she said,

“Don’t sell all the eggs. Save a jin and bring them to Zhou Ke later.”

Qian Xiangdong didn’t question why, just agreed.

After leaving the black market, Ye Qingshui returned home, parked her bike, and entered the house. There she saw Xie Tingyu making milk powder for Grandma.

The old woman smacked her lips happily.

“This is even better than what Shui’er cooked for me last time! No wonder it’s such a treasure. Why bother mixing it with water—just eating it dry tastes heavenly!”

A neighbor’s child crouched outside the doorway, drooling as he watched, the sound of his swallowing faint but clear.

Milk powder wasn’t sold in the county; Ye Qingshui had specially brought it back from the capital. Grandma treasured it, unwilling to give such precious food to the neighborhood kids.

She herself only drank a sip, leaving the rest for her granddaughter.

When Madam Li came looking for her child and saw him crouched outside someone else’s door, yearning after their milk powder, her face flushed red. She scooped him up and fled.

In the past, she might have been jealous. Now, she felt only envy.

This girl Ye Qingshui had risen in life—married well, beloved by her in-laws. On her return to the village, she’d handed out wedding candies to every family.

Madam Li remembered, too, that during the well-digging project, certain families who had once caused trouble for the Ye family had been deliberately left waiting by Shen Weimin. And who was Shen Weimin? Brother to Xie the educated youth.

Her resolve hardened: Ye Qingshui bore grudges—best not to cross her. Better to curry favor.

But Ye Qingshui couldn’t ignore the hungry eyes of the children outside. She grabbed a handful of roasted peanuts from the table and handed them over.

Madam Li smiled ingratiatingly.

“Shui’er, our new house is finished. When will you host the completion feast?”

She still remembered the Ye family’s construction feast, when the braised pork was so fragrant and tender it rivaled New Year’s banquets.

Grandma had wanted to hold the meal on the first day of the new year, but the villagers stopped her, insisting they wait for Ye Qingshui’s return.

Ye Qingshui laughed.

“Today was only the market’s first opening. The meat stalls had lines a mile long. Auntie, if you’re not in a hurry, let’s wait a few days!”

Madam Li dared not press further, though she kept thinking about that meal.

After polite goodbyes, Ye Qingshui glanced down and saw Grandma carefully licking her thumb, not letting a single grain of milk powder go to waste.

“This milk powder’s even tastier than malted milk—it must’ve cost a lot?” Grandma asked.

“Not much, eat as much as you like,” Xie Tingyu reassured.

But the old woman pushed it toward her granddaughter.

“Shui’er should drink more.”

Ye Qingshui refused, leaving it for Grandma.

She felt a pang—elders who had lived through hard times found such joy in even a small treat, smiling like blossoms.

Just then, Xie’s eyes caught her bare wrist. His brows furrowed.

After coaxing Grandma to finish her milk, Ye Qingshui went into her room and pulled out Zhou Cunren’s manuscript. The handwriting was vigorous, neat, every stroke full of strength.

She became so absorbed that two hours passed without notice, half the manuscript already read.

Beside her, Xie Tingyu quietly watched, then asked casually,

“Do you know what time it is now?”

Automatically, Ye Qingshui lifted her wrist—only to see it bare.

Xie’s lips curved at her dazed little gesture.

She really had liked her new watch. With it, she could always check the time instead of working blindly.

But… though she’d bought it, she felt no regret about selling it.

Meeting his puzzled gaze, she explained,

“I sold my watch.”

“Shui’er,” Xie said softly, “give me your hand.”

She lifted her head, confused, and didn’t move.

He took her hand, slipped something cold and weighty onto her wrist.

Startled, she looked down—a silver watch gleamed in the sunlight, its ticking precise and steady.

“I… I can’t take this,” she stammered, trying to remove it.

“Is it so hard to accept a gift?”

He held down her hand, his deep voice rough:

“This is a women’s watch. I saw you looking at it in the shop. While you weren’t paying attention, I bought it.”

He had wanted to surprise her, but after a nap, she’d returned already wearing a different watch. When he asked what she wanted, she hadn’t told him. The thought had left him strangely defeated.

Her heart trembled. In the store, she had indeed fallen for this very watch at first sight, but the price had been too high, so she gave it up. Never did she expect Xie Tingyu to buy it for her.

His eyes were dim now, a rare flicker of dejection.

She felt a sudden pang. Memories surfaced—how he always silently did things for her, never speaking of it. How he concealed his kindness, his support, his love…

If she hadn’t sold her own watch, would he have ever given her this one?

He ruffled her hair, worried she’d return it. His voice was husky:

“Alright. This watch is yours. Don’t sell it.

If you ever need money… just ask me.”

He hadn’t finished when Ye Qingshui suddenly rose on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his.

The spring breeze stirred, carrying the faint scent of blossoms. Her hair brushed his face, her teeth clumsily bumping his lips.

Caught off guard, he staggered back a step, but his arm circled her waist, holding her close.

He stared down at her in shock. It was her first time taking the initiative.

She met his blank expression, bit her lip, and fled toward the door.

Her courage crumbled. Tears welled up as she ran. Never again, she told herself, never again.

But she didn’t know—beneath Xie Tingyu’s calm surface raged a storm. His heart pounded as if molten lava poured through it.

His ears rang, the floor seemed to sway.

Just as she opened the door, his hoarse voice rang out:

“Shui’er, how can you kiss me and then run away?”

Before she could react, he pulled her into his arms, pressing her against the doorframe.

The world spun—her back hit the cold wall. His dark gaze bore into hers as he gently wiped away her tears.

His arms, firm and unyielding, caged her in. His eyes burned like molten fire.

“Another kiss?”

Though phrased as a question, his actions were anything but. He bent down and claimed her lips, no longer restrained, no longer calm.

She had only once seen him lose control—at the black market. Now again, his kiss was fierce, punishing, breath-stealing until her tears flowed anew.

Outside, spring sang with birdsong and falling blossoms. Inside, spring’s warmth overflowed.

At last, he pulled back, straightened her messy braid, and murmured, voice thick with hoarseness and joy:

“Remember, Shui’er—next time, kiss me like that.”

He had never known that her kiss could make him lose all reason.

Author’s Note:

Yuge: So excited that he can’t speak

Brother Bai casts a smug glance: Still, Xiangxiang is the best.

I just stand still and still get kisses.

Proudly puffing chest.jpg

Yuge: “……”

Critical hit received.jpg

Ping Shengjun: Alright, alright, everyone disperse.

Brother Bai, don’t be so full of yourself.

Did you forget those years you squatted in the corner just watching Xiangxiang?

Brother Bai: “……”

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