014. Pressed His Own Abs

Lu Qingyan was about to head to the stairwell to push out his old 28-inch double-bar bicycle.

He stopped in his tracks when he heard Zhou Sumin’s voice.

Lu Qingyan glanced at her, and since they were both state cadres, he casually replied, “Mm, we just moved in, so we’re going to buy some things together.”

Hearing that, Zhou Sumin gave a gentle smile and teased, “The relationship between you and your wife seems really good.”

Lu Qingyan was a straightforward man and didn’t catch her roundabout meaning, taking it purely as a compliment.

“It’s pretty good,” he said lightly, then continued walking toward the stairwell to fetch his bike.

Zhou Sumin stared at his departing back, her expression stiffening for a moment before she forced herself to maintain her perfect demeanor.

“Chief’s wife looks so young—where did you go to college?” Zhou Sumin turned her gaze to Wen Shiyang.

No matter how she looked, Wen Shiyang seemed like an eighteen- or nineteen-year-old student—nothing like a mother of a four- or five-year-old.

If the children were really hers, then it proved she had never gone to university.

And how could an uneducated woman possibly beat her?

Although Wen Shiyang didn’t live in this era, she’d heard enough about the local pace of life.

“I never attended university,” she said with a calm smile. “But, Deputy Zhou, you seem about the right age for marriage. Why is it I always see you alone? Where’s your husband?”

Her tone was warm, but her words were sharp as needles.

She never picked fights—but she certainly wouldn’t let others take advantage of her either.

Zhou Sumin’s smile faltered. She finally understood—people from different worlds really didn’t speak the same language!

She couldn’t understand how such an outstanding man like Lu Qingyan could marry a rural girl.

They simply didn’t match!

“Chief’s wife, you’re joking. I may be at the right age, but I’m still unmarried. If you know any good prospects, you could introduce me and maybe play matchmaker,” Zhou Sumin replied, her smile tight, pretending to be polite.

Wen Shiyang could see right through the act and found it exhausting.

Did this woman really think she could outplay her?

“Deputy Zhou, don’t joke. The people I know would never be to your taste. I wouldn’t dare make introductions—if anything went wrong, my Mr. Lu wouldn’t let me off easily.” Wen Shiyang’s eyes curved with a shy smile, filled with unspoken tenderness.

Acting? Zhou Sumin was still too green.

If Zhou Sumin wanted to disgust her, then Wen Shiyang would simply turn her own stomach inside out and dump it on her—let her choke on her own game.

Zhou Sumin’s face darkened further. Just as she was at a loss for words, Lu Qingyan emerged, pushing his bicycle.

“What are you talking about?” he called.

“Nothing much,” Wen Shiyang said with a shake of her head.

Seeing this, Zhou Sumin knew she wasn’t wanted and excused herself. “Chief Lu, you two go ahead. I’ll head upstairs.”

Lu Qingyan didn’t respond to her, his gaze soft as it fell on Wen Shiyang’s face.

“What are you looking at? Is there something on my face?” Wen Shiyang asked, suddenly worried she’d been laughed at earlier.

“No,” Lu Qingyan replied casually, then narrowed his eyes slightly in amusement. “It’s just the first time I’ve seen the chief’s wife so sharp-tongued.”

Wen Shiyang’s heart skipped. She stole a glance at him. “You heard that?”

Lu Qingyan chuckled. “I may be older than you, but I’m not deaf yet!”

What, did she think he was some seventy-year-old man?

He was still in his prime!

Wen Shiyang shrank her neck a little and obediently shut her mouth. Better to say nothing—less chance of slipping up.

Lu Qingyan shook his head with a helpless smile, straightened the bicycle, and swung a long leg over it with ease.

“Come here,” he told her.

Lowering her gaze, Wen Shiyang saw a pink cotton seat cushion tied to the rear seat.

She remembered how, before leaving home, Lu Qingyan had gone back inside to fetch something. When he came out again, his pocket had been bulging—probably with this very cushion.

At the thought, her lips curved slightly.

Lu Qingyan tapped her forehead with a bent finger and asked with a smile, “What are you thinking about, grinning like that?”

Wen Shiyang didn’t answer, just shook her head with a smile.

This man could be quite cute sometimes.

He lifted her onto the back seat, then very seriously guided her arms around his waist—making her small hands press deliberately against his abs.

“Hold tight. If you fall, it’s going to hurt,” he said, half teasing.

“Oh,” she replied.

She’d never ridden one of these before, but she’d galloped wild horses across the steppe—what was there to fear from this?

Lu Qingyan was clearly underestimating her!

After nearly half an hour, they stopped in front of a newly opened department store.

The store had only a plain wooden signboard—basically just like a supply and marketing co-op.

But in the past couple of years, many private businesses had sprung up, and many co-ops had closed down.

With Mid-Autumn Festival approaching, the store was crowded with people buying mooncakes.

Wen Shiyang stepped forward for a look—the mooncakes were wrapped in kraft paper bags, one jin per bag, seven mooncakes inside, priced at 0.9 yuan.

Only five bags were left on the counter; the other varieties had already been snapped up.

Seeing her hesitation, Lu Qingyan asked, “Want to check somewhere else?”

She shook her head. “Let’s just take two bags—five jin total. Judging by this, other stores won’t have much left either.”

He nodded in agreement.

Besides the mooncakes, they bought a few other nice-looking pastries and some daily necessities.

“Come on, let’s look at electric fans,” Lu Qingyan said, taking her wrist and leading her over.

Wen Shiyang had no idea what an electric fan was.

When they arrived, she realized it was a device for blowing air—similar in structure to the water-powered fans from her time, but using electricity instead.

Peeking at the price, she quickly grabbed his arm. “Don’t buy it. The season’s almost over—we won’t even get to use it.”

“Maybe not this year, but we will next year,” he replied. “Which color—green or blue?”

The shopkeeper, smiling broadly, chimed in, “Green sells well—this is the last one we’ve got.”

Wen Shiyang gave the shopkeeper a quick glance and said firmly, “Blue.”

The shopkeeper froze, then quickly changed his pitch. “Ah, blue sells well too—almost out as well.”

Lu Qingyan hid a smile in his eyes and pointed. “We’ll take that blue one.”