CHAPTER 97: 095 RED EYES, CHANGED PANTS

"Just asking." Jiang Jinghuai flicked away his cigarette, crushed it under his shoe, and squinted with a melancholic gaze. "Back then, it was all her fault. Even though she saved my life, I paid her back with my pride. ***." Seemingly reminded of something, he spat out another curse.

Over the years, this matter clung to him like a nightmare, entangling his dreams. It always left him with a sense of humiliation. If possible, he never wanted to see her again in this lifetime—otherwise, he might lose control and put a bullet through her!

Zhao Chun had rarely seen Jiang Jinghuai in such a dejected and melancholic state. He asked cautiously, "Did something happen between you and Wenxiu?"

"I’m going back to Beijing tomorrow," Jiang Jinghuai replied ambiguously, his eyes suddenly darkening. "If you don’t start caring about yourself, you’ll mess around until you kill yourself. Got a leg messed up this time—next time, will it be an arm?"

Jia Wenxiu was the orphaned daughter of a martyr. Her father had been under Jiang Jinghuai’s grandfather’s command. After her father died in service, Old Jiang took her into the family. Father Jiang and Mother Jiang treated her well, especially since their own daughter had passed away then, leaving only Jiang Jinghuai as their son. They doted on Wenxiu as if she were their real daughter—feeding her well, dressing her well, letting her learn dance, and giving her the best education. They even invested more effort in her than in their own son. And what did this so-called daughter do to repay them? Mother Jiang was heartbroken and fell seriously ill, which was why Jiang Jinghuai was headed back to Beijing tomorrow.

"It’s not serious, right?" Zhao Chun was at a loss. "Wenxiu might be a bit lively and spoiled, but she’s just a girl. You can’t lose your temper with her like that."

To hell with Wenxiu!

Jiang Jinghuai gave a faint, mocking smile. "Do you know what she did? My grandfather had a heart attack and almost died on the operating table. Our family raised a wolf in sheep’s clothing—a wolf that hid its true nature so well that we didn’t see her intentions all these years. I want to see now if she thinks the Lu Family will protect her forever after she’s cut ties with us."

He was smiling, but the cold, indifferent cruelty in his tone made Zhao Chun shiver uncontrollably. He could hardly believe such a charming and sweet girl like Wenxiu could do that. Wasn’t this sheer ingratitude? "Jinghuai, your grandfather will be okay. He’s been to the battlefield—he can hold on. You should hurry back and get to the bottom of things."

"Mm."

"About the money..." Zhao Chun hesitated, feeling guilty. It was inappropriate to borrow money while his friend’s family was in deep trouble. He regretted asking in the first place.

"My family isn’t at a point where we need such a small sum," Jiang Jinghuai said, his deep-set eyes fixing on Zhao Chun. "Rural women are like tigers... take care of yourself."

"You too," Zhao Chun agreed tactfully, not daring to say much else. "I’ll head out now."

"Wait." Jiang Jinghuai suddenly called him back.

Zhao Chun turned around.

"I’ve changed my mind," Jiang Jinghuai said, sizing him up with interest. "I was wrong. I didn’t think that after all this time, you’d even change your gender."

"What the hell, even you’re taking jabs at me?" Zhao Chun snapped, annoyed. Wasn’t this implying he was acting like a woman?

Jiang Jinghuai shook his head, giving him a light yet piercing glance. "You’re bleeding."

Zhao Chun froze, instinctively reaching under his nose. "No, I’m not. Where am I bleeding?"

"In the back," Jiang Jinghuai said before briskly walking away, his tall and sturdy figure soon disappearing into the bustling crowd.

Just as he was about to leave town, Jiang Jinghuai still silently looked back. That was it—no hurdle in life was insurmountable.

Zhao Chun stood frozen in place for a long time. For some reason, he suddenly thought of Tian Sangsang’s row of eerily white teeth from earlier.

The back? Bleeding from the back? Tilting his head back, he reached a hand behind himself to wipe—and then widened his eyes in disbelief. There was a deep stain of blood on the back of his pants!

"Oh, shit!"

"Dammit!"

"Where the hell did the blood come from?"

"No! This isn’t my blood!"

"Shit!"

"Ah—!"

Blood! Blood! Blood! Why the hell was there blood?

In the morning, Tian Sangsang had been slaughtering chickens. The whole yard was covered in blood. And he’d sat on that stool under her creepy gaze.

"Fine. If you insist. You’ll regret it," Tian Sangsang’s languid voice echoed in Zhao Chun’s ears, like a Buddhist incantation tightening around his skull. "You’ll regret it. You’ll regret it. You’ll regret it, Zhao Chun, you’ll regret it..."

"Ah, Tian Sangsang!" A chill swiftly spread through Zhao Chun’s entire body.

All that remained in the world was Zhao Chun’s soul-crushing wail!

The two postal clerks stared in bewilderment. Staring at his pants, they were certain the blood was his. The young man must’ve been too stressed or unwell, causing him to bleed from his backside.

It wasn’t his blood? Then whose blood was it—chicken blood? Impossible! The eyes of the public see everything clearly!

Gripping the money in his hand, Zhao Chun hobbled on his crutch, urgently rushing toward the supply store.

...

"Achoo!" Meng Shuyan wrinkled his delicate little nose and let out a tiny sneeze.

"Son, what’s wrong? Are you catching a cold?" It might’ve been summer, but that didn’t mean colds couldn’t happen. Summer heat often made people reckless with air-conditioning and prone to chills. Tian Sangsang reached out her dark hand to feel his little forehead.

Meng Shuyan shook his head, his childlike voice saying softly, "Mom, I’m fine. I’m just wondering why Chun Zisu hasn’t come back yet."

Tian Sangsang felt a pang of jealousy. "You miss Chun Zisu so much~~~~~"

"Chun Zisu teaches me to draw." Meng Shuyan’s big, crescent-moon eyes sparkled. "And Mom tells me stories."

Actually, she could draw too—Q-version sketches even.

"He should be back soon." Speaking of which, while Zhao Chun might be unreliable, his drawing skills were formal training-level. Just yesterday afternoon, he had sketched Tian Family Village in Meng Shuyan’s notebook. A few strokes in pencil, a simple outline, and he captured it perfectly.

See, you can’t judge a book by its cover. He looked the part of a landlord’s foolish, spoiled son, relying on his looks and family wealth. But if you looked past appearances, you’d find his true nature—that was the real truth.

Soon, Tian Sangsang felt a chilly gaze land on her, making her shiver and stand upright.

Zhao Chun’s eyes were red, even his eyebrows seemed to redden, as if he’d suffered immense grievance. He glared at her with a mix of embarrassment and fury, trembling as though he might burst into tears at any moment.

He looked exactly like he was about to cry on the spot.

Noticing he’d changed into a pair of long pants, Tian Sangsang immediately realized what had happened. She asked with concern, "Zhao Chun, are you okay? Why’d you change pants while you were out? Where did you change them? Your leg isn’t well—did someone help you? Was it a man or a woman?"

Zhao Chun was practically choking with anger. That’s what you care about? That’s what you care about? That’s not the point at all! What you should care about is the blood in the back of my pants! No, goddammit, not that it came out of me—it got on me!

If he had to describe his current feelings with a metaphor, it would be this: If he were a heavily pregnant woman at this moment, Tian Sangsang’s words would’ve stressed him into a miscarriage, with blood flowing uncontrollably!