Chapter 11

Lu Chongjin turned his head slightly. “Where’s the wooden box I gave you before?”

“That’s your money. I’ll have to pay it back sooner or later,” Tang Yajun said dejectedly.

“Since I gave it to you, it’s yours to use. If you want to send money to your elder brother, take it from there.”

Tang Yajun thought it over and realized this was the only solution for now. Her elder brother was away from home; having some money on hand would be safer.

“Then I’ll borrow some from you first. Don’t worry, I’ll keep accounts. Once I earn more, I’ll repay you.” With that, she got up and pulled the wooden box out from under the bed.

Seeing how dusty she looked, Lu Chongjin frowned. “Where did you roll around, a dirt pit? Go change your clothes.”

Tang Yajun took out eighty yuan along with some ration and meat tickets, slipping them into the bundle of clothes she had prepared that morning.

“This is what I’ll be sending to my elder brother. Find someone to deliver it as soon as possible.”

Only after he nodded did Tang Yajun head off to wash up.

Normally steady, Cui Shan came rushing in through the gate like a gust of wind, followed by Ma Ming with a face as long as a bitter gourd.

Tang Yajun brightened at the sight of Ma Ming, beckoning him inside.

From the pile of bills on the table, she plucked out one yuan and held it out.

“I didn’t have cash with me that day. This is a thank-you gift. Take it.”

Ma Ming, already on edge, felt as if he had been plunged into an ice pit.

Just from the last incident, he had endured several days of the major general’s cold face.

If he dared accept money now, he feared he might get punished tomorrow for something as trivial as stepping into the car with the wrong foot.

“N-no, I couldn’t possibly,” Ma Ming stammered, shaking his head.

But Tang Yajun insisted on pushing the money into his hand.

“Take it when it’s given,” Lu Chongjin said lightly.

To Ma Ming, those few words rumbled like thunder, as if lightning was about to strike him on the spot.

His eyes darted to Cui Shan, pleading.

Cui Shan noticed the bundle of clothes on the table and spoke up at just the right moment: “This is what Madam wants sent, yes? I’ll see to it right away.”

He scooped up the bundle and walked out.

Ma Ming forced a smile at Tang Yajun before hurrying after him.

Tang Yajun glanced at the bills still in her hand and wondered aloud, “Did I give too little?”

She set the money back on the table and continued washing up.

After scrubbing twice, she finally removed the makeup from her face and washed her hair as well.

Earlier, in order to look pitiful and sell more melons, she had put on makeup to appear wan and haggard.

Now her freshly washed face glowed with heat, unadorned yet radiant enough to outshine any bloom in the courtyard.

Tang Yajun, oblivious to her own beauty, had damp locks trailing loosely, her cheeks flushed from the scrubbing.

Lu Chongjin’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he turned his head away.

She finished drying her face, then stepped to his side and pressed her hand against the muscles of his thigh.

“Have you noticed any feeling in your legs these last couple of days?”

She had been secretly slipping him strengthening tonics.

Lu Chongjin hadn’t noticed that, but every morning something else was certainly… waking up on schedule.

He pressed his lips together and shook his head.

Tang Yajun’s slender fingers pinched sharply at the inside of his thigh through the fabric.

The sudden stab of pain made him hiss softly.

“Pain is good—it means your nerves are coming back,” she said while toweling her hair.

Lu Chongjin reached out his hand. “Give me that. I’ll dry it for you.”

Her arms were sore from the morning’s work; with someone offering help, she gladly accepted.

She fetched a small bamboo stool and sat in front of him.

Taking the towel, he gathered her damp hair, wrapped it, and squeezed gently.

His calloused fingertips brushed against her nape, sending a ripple through her thoughts.

Such a man—handsome, capable, attentive—was rare as lantern light, and she had stumbled upon him.

With one hand, Lu Chongjin lifted her hair, catching sight of the pale curve of her neck.

His lips pressed together, his throat moving.

When his fingers grazed her skin, his heart stirred like water struck by a stone, rippling outward.

He shifted his gaze, catching sight of her smooth forehead, fine baby hairs lying against it.

His hand brushed the spot on her brow where she had been struck days ago at the Tang house. The skin there was flawless, with no trace of injury.

It struck him: after that incident, her wound had healed in less than two days.

Did she have some uncanny self-healing ability, or had the injury been a ruse to trick him?

The latter seemed far more likely, and his gaze grew darker.

Unaware of his thoughts, Tang Yajun reached back to take the towel, accidentally brushing his cheek.

The cool touch jolted him. He caught her hand.

“Why are your hands so cold? You didn’t drink the medicine Doctor Hu prescribed?”

Tang Yajun pulled her hand back, shaking her hair dry.

“He said to drink it a few days before my monthlies. Mine are always irregular, so I don’t know when.”

She had never taken it seriously.

Back when she worked late nights in the lab, her cycles were always erratic from exhaustion and poor health.

Doctor Hu had said her body constitution was cold, but she hadn’t minded. At worst, she could just take a tonic later.

“If you can’t predict it, then start drinking it today,” Lu Chongjin ordered.

She blinked at him in puzzlement. He seemed oddly different today, though she couldn’t put her finger on why.

But she was used to strange things by now. With her bizarre experiences, nothing surprised her anymore.

That night, Lu Chongjin personally supervised her taking the medicine.

Tang Yajun stared at the inky decoction, her small face scrunching up miserably.

She tried pleading with her eyes, but he remained unmoved.

Only when she swallowed the last drop did he wheel himself out.

Cui Shan was waiting outside. He pushed the chair along until they were farther away, then reported his findings.

“People said they only bought melons out of pity for Madam. The ones we questioned all said you could smell the fragrance from far away, and when eaten, the melons were as sweet as sugar.”

“She was pitiful?” Lu Chongjin asked in surprise.

“Madam told them her husband’s legs were crippled, that he was laid up at home, and the family depended on her selling melons to buy rice for their meals…”

Cui Shan chose his words carefully, holding his expression stiff, though he nearly burst out laughing.

Madam’s half-truths, when placed onto the major general himself, made it all the more comical.

“If you want to laugh, then laugh. No need to choke on it,” Lu Chongjin said with a sideways glance.

But his brows soon drew together tightly.

“Where did those melons come from?”