Chapter 27: The Hen That Can’t Lay Eggs

As the bicycle rolled into the family compound, Zhang Guiqin jumped off the back seat.

“Yaqing, I’ll head home now.”

“Okay.”

They parted ways, and Luo Yaqing pedaled her bicycle straight into her own little yard.

Coincidentally, Han Zhixu had just returned too and was about to take out his key to open the door.

“I’ll do it!” Luo Yaqing rushed over, panting.

Han Zhixu was pushed aside by her.

Luo Yaqing opened the door and didn’t stop to rest. She brought out a clay basin, scooped out two bowls of flour, rolled up her sleeves, and began kneading the dough.

Han Zhixu saw the sweat on Luo Yaqing’s forehead and said quietly, “I’ll cook from now on.”

Luo Yaqing refused. “How could I let you do that? You’ve been busy all day in the army.”

Han Zhixu pressed his lips together. “It’s fine. I used to…”

“The past is the past!” Luo Yaqing cut him off. “From now on, I’m going to cook for you.”

Han Zhixu was touched. “Let me help.”

He fetched some potatoes, washed and peeled them, then shredded them and soaked them in water.

That saved Luo Yaqing a lot of effort.

She finished cooking the flatbread and stir-fried two dishes: a plate of appetizing sour and spicy shredded potatoes, and a plate of crispy salted fish.

After dinner, Han Zhixu cleaned the dishes.

Luo Yaqing carried the thermos bottle to the inner room to wipe herself down briefly.

When she came out in clean clothes, Han Zhixu was already standing by the single bed.

“Han Zhixu, are you getting ready for bed?”

He answered with a quiet “Mm.”

Luo Yaqing quickly stepped forward. “Then hurry and undress, I’m in a rush.”

“…”

Before Han Zhixu could react, her fair, soft hands had already reached out to help him take off his cotton coat.

Luo Yaqing set the coat aside. “Sit down—it’s hard for me to take off your clothes when you’re standing.”

He was 1.87 meters tall.

She was only 1.64—a petite thing.

With this height difference, it was hard to remove the inner layers unless he sat down.

Han Zhixu lowered his gaze to study her carefully, his voice slightly tense: “Are you sure?”

Luo Yaqing nodded without hesitation. “Everyone’s busy during the day, so evenings are the only free time.”

“…” Han Zhixu’s heart pounded wildly.

Then Luo Yaqing said, “Hurry and take off your clothes. I’m going to wash them.”

“…”

Han Zhixu had never felt so awkward.

He’d read too much into it.

Way too much.

He quickly pulled off his sweater and thermal shirt. “Here.”

His strong, muscular chest and firm pecs were fully exposed to the air.

Luo Yaqing gulped.

Taking the clothes, she pointed at his lower half. “Your pants too, I need to wash those.”

Han Zhixu glanced at her, then grabbed the blanket and wrapped himself in it with his back to her.

“Here.”

“Oh, and your underwear too.”

“…”

“You’d better get into bed before you catch a cold.”

“…”

Under Luo Yaqing’s warm and enthusiastic care, Han Zhixu wrapped himself tighter and lay down.

The water from the hand-pump was warm in winter and cool in summer. Luo Yaqing pumped out some and, using the light by the door, scrubbed the clothes clean.

Next door, Ma Xiaolian was walking with a flashlight, cursing at her son as they went.

She’d just gotten undressed and into bed—hadn’t even warmed it up—when her son started yelling about a stomachache.

She had no choice but to get dressed again and take him to the public restroom.

“Ma, Ma,” Hu Shuangyang tugged at her.

Ma Xiaolian jumped. “What—is it diarrhea already!?”

“No, no,” Hu Shuangyang shook his head.

Ma Xiaolian snapped, “Hold it in! If you poop your pants, I’ll beat you!”

Hu Shuangyang shrank back. “Ma, look—next door.”

Following his gaze, Ma Xiaolian saw the door of the neighboring house wide open. Light spilled out, and inside, Luo Yaqing was hunched over, scrubbing clothes.

“Ma, why is she doing laundry at night?” Hu Shuangyang asked.

Ma Xiaolian craned her neck and watched for a few moments, then curled her lips in glee.

Doing laundry late at night?

That spoiled capitalist daughter must’ve been rejected by her man.

Good for Han Zhixu.

Women like that shouldn’t be spoiled—should’ve been scolded and beaten long ago!

Hu Shuangyang, desperate to go, clutched his rear tightly. “Ma, maa—”

Ma Xiaolian tore her gaze away and, seeing her son’s urgent state, immediately grabbed him and rushed to the public restroom.

Luo Yaqing finished washing the clothes, shut and bolted the door, and looked over at the single bed.

Han Zhixu’s eyes were closed. He wasn’t moving at all. Seemed like he was already asleep.

She turned off the light in the outer room, tiptoed back into her own room, and yawned as she crawled into bed.

Working at the soap factory wasn’t physically demanding, but sitting all day left her back aching.

And with all the pedaling to and from work while giving people rides, plus cooking and washing once she got home—her petite body was getting worn out.

She felt utterly exhausted.

At the root of it, the real issue was a lack of exercise.

With random thoughts spinning in her head, Luo Yaqing slowly drifted into sleep.

…

Life in the family compound continued as usual. People went to work, kids went to school.

The women still gathered with their stools by the wall, gossiping away.

“Jianguo’s turning four this New Year, right? Xiaomin should hurry and have another one.”

“Old folks shouldn’t meddle. Xiaomin’s busy with work—she doesn’t have time.”

“Even just one is better than someone who doesn’t have any at all.”

“Xiaolian, you trying to say something?”

“Which household here doesn’t have kids? Everyone’s got two or three, even four.”

“Exactly!”

The women chatted enthusiastically, one comment after another.

While sewing a shoe sole, Ma Xiaolian jabbed the needle into her scalp as she scoffed, “Commander Han’s family doesn’t have any kids.”

Everyone had honestly forgotten about them.

“They just got married. Having kids is only a matter of time,” Liu Chahua offered.

Ma Xiaolian snorted. “They’ve been married for over six months now, and Luo Yaqing’s belly hasn’t shown a thing.”

“Maybe she’s just a hen that can’t lay eggs.”

“Do you think Commander Han’s going to end up childless?”

The group: “…”

One woman finally couldn’t take it. “Why are you so concerned with other people’s business? The emperor’s not worried, but the eunuch is?”

Ma Xiaolian doubled down. “How do you know Commander Han isn’t worried?”

The woman: “…”

With a smug look, Ma Xiaolian said, “I’m telling you, Commander Han can’t stand Luo Yaqing now. Makes her do laundry every night—won’t let her sleep until it’s done.”

The women were shocked—more in disbelief than anything.

Ma Xiaolian continued, “I’m not lying. You can go see for yourself tonight. Haven’t you noticed how Luo Yaqing hasn’t been seen lately? Probably got beaten up, face all bruised, too embarrassed to go outside.”

Granny Su rolled her eyes. “What nonsense. Luo Yaqing works during the day. She only has time to do laundry at night.”

Ma Xiaolian looked surprised. “What, she has a job? Where?”

Granny Su replied, “At the soap factory.”

Ma Xiaolian had heard about Zhang Guiqin working there as a temp.

She hadn’t expected Luo Yaqing to be there too.

They were just one fence apart—and she didn’t know a thing.

“Did your daughter-in-law help her get in?” she asked.

Granny Su nodded. “Yes, my Xiaomin did.”

Ma Xiaolian cursed silently and was about to launch into a political lecture about class struggle.

But then she spotted a green postal bike turning into the compound.

She dropped everything and ran over. “Comrade, is there any mail for me?”

The postman parked his bike and pulled a bundle of letters from his green satchel. “Name?”

“Ma Xiaolian.”

“There’s one for you. Here.”

“Thank you, Comrade.”

Beaming, Ma Xiaolian took the letter, her eyes glued to the handwriting on the envelope.

No matter how long she looked, it wasn’t enough.

Even though she couldn’t read a single character…