Chapter 25

There’s a saying, “counterproductive.”
There’s another, “the more one tries to hide, the more exposed one becomes.”

Bai Jiaojiao had already tried to minimize the damage, but when everything was stacked together, things didn’t look that way from Xiao Zhou’s perspective.

“It’s not because of him, I… I was just scared.”
She buried her head, clutching his waist tightly. Her body trembled slightly, as if trying hard to prove she was afraid, and still feeling shaken.

“Don’t be scared, I’m here.”
Xiao Zhou gently patted her back to comfort her. His voice unconsciously softened, and he no longer wanted to press the issue.

Bai Jiaojiao breathed a sigh of relief and cautiously looked up, only to meet a pair of warm, yet subtly suspicious black eyes—then, in an instant, they turned purely gentle again.

Her heart tightened. She had intended to gloss over the situation, but this might plant seeds of doubt in Xiao Zhou’s heart.
That couldn’t happen! She had to pull those seeds out.

She buried her face back into his chest and mumbled, “You didn’t misunderstand, did you?”

“No.”

“If you have anything to ask, just ask. I don’t want you to misunderstand me,” Bai Jiaojiao said languidly, adding a small threat in a soft voice, “Hurry up and ask!”

Xiao Zhou stroked her soft hair—his hand warm and tinged with affection.
Any doubts in his heart were shattered by her directness.

“Then why were you two wearing matching clothes?”
“Were you two close before?”
“What were you doing before I arrived?”

Three questions dropped on her all at once, leaving Bai Jiaojiao not knowing where to begin.

She pondered—if she explained everything clearly now, what about next time?
What if she happened to talk to another man alone again—would Xiao Zhou turn into this jealous, bitter version of himself?
Sure, it was required by the plot, but she wanted to change that.

“I really have absolutely nothing to do with him,” Bai Jiaojiao said seriously. “The clothes were a coincidence. And I only recognize black and white as a proper match. He wore white—it looked like something a woman would wear.

When I ran into him while I was lost, I wasn’t scared at all. Felt like I could knock him over with one punch. Don’t you agree?”

The man raised an eyebrow. Looking at her—petite like a doll, pampered and delicate—with two hands not even as big as one of his,
“Yeah.” If he could knock that guy over with one punch, that meant his wife could too.

Bai Jiaojiao lifted her chin in satisfaction.

“Besides, he’s not as tall as you, not as handsome, and you fly planes. Your future’s bright. Why would I fall for him instead of you?”

Xiao Zhou: “So, have you fallen for me?”

Bai Jiaojiao was stunned. Her instinct was to deny it, but something made her hesitate. She gave a little humph, pinched his cheek, and shot back, “Then do you remember me yet?”
Before he could answer, she quickly added, “If you lie to me again, I won’t tell you the truth about anything from now on.”

“No way!”
Xiao Zhou refused without thinking. Looking into the serious gaze of the girl, he pressed his lips together and admitted honestly, “No, I haven’t remembered yet.”

Bai Jiaojiao was a little disappointed and puzzled.
“Logically, you should’ve remembered something by now.”
It wasn’t even a major injury. She had been making herbal medicine for him daily and they were living in the house where he’d spent the first eighteen years of his life. How could there be no trace of memory at all?

Xiao Zhou lowered his head, the tip of his nose brushing against hers. He couldn’t help but hug her tighter, pressing her close to him.

“Even if I haven’t remembered, I like Jiaojiao. That’ll never change.”

The girl’s delicate hand was enveloped in his large, strong one—their fingers interlocked, seemingly tender, but in truth offering her no chance to escape.

The next day, Xiao Zhou brought gifts to Chenjia Village. If Bai Jiaojiao hadn’t woken up early for once, she would’ve missed him.

“Who are you giving them to?” she asked, tugging at his sleeve. “Didn’t Dad say the Chen family didn’t have any other relatives?”

“To the guy who helped you yesterday.”

Only then did Bai Jiaojiao recall, “Oh, him. What did you bring?”

“Some homemade safflower oil I bought from a local. Heard it works well.”

Bai Jiaojiao: “……”

Xiao Zhou, unhappy with her only holding his sleeve, pulled her hand out and naturally interlocked their fingers, stuffing their hands into his coat pocket.

People passing by pointed and whispered, but he ignored them and righteously declared, “We’re husband and wife—holding hands isn’t illegal!”

“Shameless!”
“So embarrassing!”

People in the 1970s were extremely reserved. Bai Jiaojiao felt a little embarrassed too. She pushed him a few times but couldn’t budge him.

“We’re heading back to the city in a few days anyway. They’re just jealous of how in love we are,” he said, self-assured.

Bai Jiaojiao felt Xiao Zhou was truly thick-skinned. But honestly, he wasn’t wrong—what harm was there in some sweet PDA between a married couple?

When they reached Chenjia Village, the first person they ran into was Aunt Tang by the pond, doing laundry.

Judging by the pile of patched-up men’s clothes, her husband must’ve returned home. There were almost no women’s or children’s clothes in sight.

Seeing them carrying a bag as they passed by, Aunt Tang remarked sarcastically, “You embarrassed our family the other day. Don’t think bringing a gift will make us close again.”

Bai Jiaojiao smiled. “Of course not. We only help people who show some gratitude.”

Aunt Tang paused, then took a few seconds to process what she meant. Her face turned ugly. “Who are you calling ungrateful?”

“Whoever answers me, that’s who,” Bai Jiaojiao said sweetly. “You didn’t deny what I said earlier—so you admit our family helped yours, and you still turned on us? Never seen someone with such thick skin.”

Aunt Tang turned red with anger, speechless. “Girls from the city really have sharp tongues. Xiao marrying you—he’ll be under your thumb for life.”

To her surprise, Xiao Zhou nodded earnestly, “Willingly.”

Aunt Tang: “……”

She was so angry she didn’t even want to finish the laundry. She hugged her basin and stormed off home, slamming the door behind her.

Bai Jiaojiao’s face was bright red, trying hard to stay composed as she coughed twice and looked around nervously—being embarrassed really made you busy.

“Jiaojiao,” the man next to her said softly, his voice low and close to her ear, his breath warming her ear tips.

“When exactly did you ‘keep me under your thumb’?” he asked, his voice husky and suggestive.

“Stop talking nonsense. Stand properly.” Bai Jiaojiao quickly pushed him away.

Xiao Zhou’s lips curved slightly, a dark glint flashing in his eyes. “Now that you’ve scared her off, who do we ask for directions?”

Bai Jiaojiao said, “What else can we do? Wait for the next person to pass by and ask them.”

“True.”

Bai Jiaojiao thought that was a pointless comment, but a moment later, she realized—he was testing her to see if she knew where Chen De’an lived.
Creepy.

“Jiaojiao, there’s someone over there,” Xiao Zhou said, pulling her out of her thoughts. She instinctively walked over to ask directions.

Xiao Zhou watched her back, eyes darkening, like a wolf eyeing its prey.
He closed his eyes. No, he had to control himself—he mustn’t scare her again.

The question he just asked—he shouldn’t have. But he couldn’t help himself.

After asking directions, they smoothly found Chen De’an’s house. Fortunately, someone was home.

“Jiaojiao, what brings you here? Come in and sit…”

Chen De’an’s smile froze for a second when he saw the man behind her wearing the same black winter coat.

Xiao Zhou walked up and patted his shoulder—nearly dislocating it with the force—then shoved a bag into his hands.

“Thanks for looking after my wife the other day. This is a little something for you.”

Seeing the safflower oil, Chen De’an’s lips twitched. But faced with Xiao Zhou’s muscular frame, he didn’t dare say anything rude.

Bai Jiaojiao also felt awkward and was about to pull Xiao Zhou away when a deep male voice sounded from inside the house.

“De’an, who’s here? A friend?”

A man with a buzz cut and dark skin walked out. He wasn’t very tall but gave off a reliable and honest vibe—a man who looked trustworthy.

Bai Jiaojiao’s eyes lit up, grateful she’d gotten up early.
Wasn’t this the very man—Chen Dawei—who might be connected to the cause of Xiao Zhou’s mother’s death?