Chapter 35: If We Have a Son, We’ll Name Him He Dapao

In the bedroom of the standalone barracks, Jiang Yu sat curled up in front of the easel, holding a palette in her left hand. She used her paintbrush to gauge proportions on the canvas, yet for a long time, she didn’t make another move.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to paint, or didn’t know what to paint.

It was simply that He Lian had never seen her paint before and found it endlessly fascinating. So aside from his regular training, whenever he had free time, he would carry a small folding stool and trail behind her like a giant big-tailed wolf.

For the younger Jiang Yu, painting had been a source of pure joy. But now, she had to force herself into pain, enduring the bizarre hallucinations and gruesome, whispering noises brought back by her memories just to recreate that specific artistic style.

She desperately needed to be alone.

Yet in He Lian’s eyes, she was someone entirely incapable of taking care of herself.

Jiang Yu let out an imperceptible sigh and lowered her raised hand.

“A-Yu?”

A sweet citrus scent drifted over as He Lian crunched the candy in his mouth. Dropping to his knees, he leaned forward and asked softly, “What’s wrong? Don’t know what to paint?”

Jiang Yu turned her head and looked into his innocent eyes, her mind racing with options.

Make him leave?

Smash the easel over his head?

Or sleep with him once and paint after he falls asleep?

Given He Lian’s physical stamina and endurance, the one likely to pass out in the end was herself. Jiang Yu simply slumped her shoulders, deciding to wait for another opportunity to paint.

She lowered her head to set the paintbrush down, only to see He Lian suddenly scoop up the ends of her hair with a click of his tongue.

Jiang Yu turned. Her hair was extremely long, having been neglected during her years at the ancestral residence. As she leaned forward earlier, the tips of her hair had brushed against the palette—now stained with a blend of dark blue and stuck together.

He Lian lifted her hair slightly and grabbed a tissue to help wipe it clean.

Jiang Yu: “Scissors… cut it off.”

He Lian: “…”

Thank goodness the paint didn’t get on her hands or feet, or she’d be asking to sever her limbs next.

The little simpleton’s train of thought was truly bizarre. It would be a complete waste to chop off such beautiful hair; he couldn’t bear to do it.

As He Lian wiped her hair, the tips of his ears flushed red. He lowered his head, muttering as if to himself: “A-Yu, the tissue isn’t getting it off. Let me take you to take a bath.”

Jiang Yu stared at his bright red ears, fully aware of what he was thinking.

It had been nearly a week.

With such high-intensity physical training every day, it was completely normal for him to crave intimacy. But she could tell from last time—He Lian was caught in a tug-of-war between his surging desires and his moral conscience, utterly conflicted.

Last night, she had even heard him in the bathroom…

His heavy, low groans had kept her tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

Jiang Yu’s hands resting on her knees tightened slightly. The next second, He Lian’s broad hand wrapped around hers, leading her straight toward the bathroom, his intent almost written on his face: “Let’s go, let’s go, time for a bath.”

Standing inside the shower stall, Jiang Yu looked up at him.

He Lian stripped off his pure cotton short-sleeved shirt as fast as he could. Then he bent over, wrapping his arms beneath her armpits to lift her, forcing Jiang Yu’s chin to rest against his solid shoulder.

Their ears brushed against each other.

She wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination or an inherent physical difference between men and women, but He Lian always felt incredibly warm, like a giant furnace.

Yet the moment He Lian reached the metal clasp at her back, he suddenly froze.

Jiang Yu glanced at his dark hair, her brows knitting slightly.

Conflicted again?

Just how foolish did he think she was that he continuously couldn’t bring himself to cross the line?

What a hassle.

Jiang Yu simply wrapped her arms around him, calling out softly: “…He Lian.”

Unsurprisingly, the man tensed up completely. Jiang Yu was squeezed uncomfortably tightly in his grip, feeling the skin of his back burning beneath her palms. Unconsciously biting her lower lip, she called out once more: “He Lian.”

Yet He Lian did not let desire take over. The fingers resting on the metal clasp shifted upward, weaving into her thick hair. He pressed Jiang Yu deeper into his chest, let out a heavy sigh, and ultimately only washed her hair.

After rinsing off, He Lian led her back to the bedroom.

Jiang Yu stared at his tight neck, her delicate eyelashes lowering as a strange, complex look flashed in her eyes. She gave a faint, annoyed nip to her inner lip.

He Lian actually didn’t do anything… how strange.

As Jiang Yu sat on the bed, He Lian used a towel to gently dry her hair bit by bit. Glancing down at her glistening neck, he tilted his head back with difficulty, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted her.

He wanted her desperately.

Yet the thought that Jiang Yu understood nothing—that he was taking advantage of someone vulnerable—plagued his conscience with guilt.

He had been a bastard for half his life.

And all the moral standards he possessed were being reserved entirely for this little simpleton.

After struggling internally for a moment, He Lian weighed Jiang Yu’s long hair in his hands. Though beautiful, it was indeed inconvenient for her when painting. Suddenly, he remembered the Dutch braid his younger sister had been obsessed with back in high school.

He fumbled with it for quite a while, his face darkening with frustration.

He didn’t know how to do it.

Walking over to the window, he looked down at Li Meng and Ye Xun, who were working on the high bars, and raised his voice: “You two! Wait for me on the first floor!”

With that, he brought Jiang Yu downstairs.

Li Meng and Ye Xun stood straight as ramrods on the first floor. Seeing the Commander’s solemn expression just now, they assumed something major must have happened.

Could there be movement on the Sandworm side again?

Or was Xie Qingzhou stirring up trouble again?

He Lian: “Which of you two knows how to do a Dutch braid?”

Li Meng: “…”

Huh?

That’s it?

Braid hair?

Are you seriously asking two grown men about this?

Ye Xun: “I can give it a try.”

Li Meng: “?”

Ye Xun stepped behind Jiang Yu, fumbling around with a convincing posture for a long time, before finally saying with a deadpan face: “I’m sorry, Commander, I was bragging just now.”

“I bloody well…”

He Lian instinctively reached behind his waist, only to realize he wasn’t carrying his gun.

He shoved Ye Xun aside, recalled the suitcase Shen Jin had sent over, pulled it down, and rummaged through it. Luckily, there were hair ties meant for women.

Ye Xun: “There are hair ties? Then I can do it.”

He Lian: “Get lost.”

He gathered Jiang Yu’s hair, wrapping it round after round, but the result was either too loose or too tight. Sweating profusely from his palms, he kept fumbling endlessly.

Sitting on the sofa, Jiang Yu closed her eyes, her hands clenched into small fists resting on her knees.

Three total idiots.

She pushed He Lian away with a gentle nudge. Lowering her head, she smoothly and gracefully tied up her hair herself. Then she jogged over to the stairwell, taking two or three steps at a time, and vanished from sight in an instant.

Li Meng and Ye Xun stood stunned.

As the two turned their heads, a flicker of surprise passed across He Lian’s face as well.

[ Jiang Yu isn’t stupid; she can take care of herself. ]

[ She’s just unexposed to the outside world, emotionally closed off, and doesn’t talk much. ]

Shen Jin’s words echoed in his mind.

Recalling Jiang Yu’s independent actions just now, He Lian’s brows gradually relaxed. He thoughtfully rubbed his fingertips together, where the smooth warmth of Jiang Yu’s hair still lingered.

Could it be…

Jiang Yu really wasn’t a simpleton?

If she received psychological therapy, was there a chance she could become a normal person?

If Jiang Yu could talk to him normally, express her emotions normally, and love him normally… He Lian’s heart skipped a beat, and he swallowed hard in bewilderment.

Dating, getting married, having children… If Jiang Yu gave birth to a son, they’d call him He Dapao. If it was a daughter, she’d be called He…

“Commander.”

Zhuang Yumian walked in, interrupting the fifty-year life plan expanding in his head.

She handed over a satellite phone: “A call from Vice Mayor He.”

He Lian scowled in extreme displeasure, snatching the phone.

He Shaoming’s voice was stern and deep; even through the receiver, He Lian could picture his posture as a veteran official: “He Lian, send Jiang Yu back to me!”

He Lian let out a cold, mocking sneer: “Say that again if you dare?”

He Shaoming seemed accustomed to his son speaking to him this way and answered off-topic: “I’ve already dispatched people to the Fortress to pick up Jiang Yu. Hand her over immediately.”

He Lian cast a glance back toward the stairs, his eyes turning resolute and domineering.

“He Shaoming, how many people did you send?”

“Why?”

“Nothing much. Just counting if the bullets in my gun are enough.”

Support Sansukini on Ko-fi