Jicheng hurriedly freed his hands to lift the curtain and stepped inside, chuckling, “What’s going on? Why the long face in such a short time?”
As the saying goes, a woman’s heart is as deep as the ocean’s needle. He wasn’t naturally adept at matters of the heart, and guessing Chunfu’s thoughts was truly a challenge for him. He sat down beside her. The heated kang had warmed her cheeks to a rosy glow, yet her expression remained tense. Puzzled, he asked, “Since when have I had the ability to upset you so easily?”
Chunfu had heard that pregnant women often had volatile tempers. Though she hadn’t shown much yet, her mood swings had already surfaced. The frustration dissipated as she took his calloused hand and pressed it gently against her belly, whispering, “The child you’ve longed for is right here.”
Fresh cuts marred the back of his hand, likely from recent labor. He usually returned late, and in the dim light, she hadn’t noticed them until now. The sight stung her heart with sorrow.
Jicheng froze for a moment before bursting into hearty laughter, his chest vibrating against her back. His booming voice echoed in her ears: “I… I’m overjoyed! From now on, our family of three will be even livelier. Once the weather warms up, we’ll tell Father and Mother. They’ve always worried I’d be left alone in this world, but who knew I’d end up happier than anyone? After Zhou Jing and I return from Cangwu Mountain, I won’t leave again—I’ll stay home with you and the little one. Ah, how foolish of me—how did you find out?”
Chunfu recounted the incident at the Pei household. She never kept secrets from him, though she braced for a scolding when mentioning her tree-climbing escapade. While she prided herself on her transparency with Jicheng, she hesitated to bring up Pei Qian, believing avoidance was best. Some things were better left unsaid between people who understood.
“Don’t scold me yet. Tell me about that ‘madam’ the man mentioned on your way back. Why haven’t you spoken of her before?”
Jicheng chuckled softly. “Aren’t you hungry? Even if you’re not, the child must be. Let’s make do for today. Tomorrow, I’ll fetch a fish from the mountain to make you soup—they say fish makes children clever. As for that matter… it was just a small favor, saving a life to accumulate virtue for our child.”
The chill had left Chunfu’s body, replaced by warmth. She smiled. “I was only teasing. The child is still small and unharmed. I’ll take it easy with heavy chores, but I’ll keep cooking. How long will you and Zhou Jing be at Cangwu Mountain? When do you plan to leave? No matter how short your stay at home, my heart feels steadier with you here.”
Jicheng stood, his tall frame enveloping her. Softly, he asked, “Do you resent me for agreeing to help Zhou Jing?”
Chunfu sighed. “I don’t. It’s rare for you to have a true friend, and helping him in need is only right. I’m not petty. But I’ve heard Cangwu Mountain is teeming with beasts—many merchants have lost their lives there. If you don’t want me to worry, you must stay vigilant. No mistakes.”
Jicheng stroked her head tenderly. “Don’t fret. Ten months will pass in a blink. I want to hear our child call me ‘Father’—how could I dare die so soon? Besides, once we retrieve the stone, Zhou Jing will have his wish fulfilled. He told me Miss An admires your nature. If we could live closer in town, she’d love to visit you often.”
Chunfu smiled faintly but said nothing. Town could never match the freedom of the village. She knew contentment; here, she was rooted, with people she couldn’t bear to leave. “Go cook. Talking has worn me out—I’m hungry.”
After Jicheng left, she caressed her belly and murmured, “Did you see Zhang Yan too? Just a glimpse… Why hasn’t he come to us? That boy, once he sets his mind, forgets his aunt. Well, we’ll wait.”
By the time dinner was cleared, night had deepened. Jicheng fussed over Chunfu, nearly insisting she stay bedridden. He served meals on a small kang table, even bringing warm water for her to wash her face, much to her amusement. Once, he’d slept holding her; now, he lay rigidly beside her, afraid to touch her lest he harm the child.
Jicheng endured, but Chunfu couldn’t. She missed his scent, his warmth, his dominance. She wriggled into his arms, guiding his hand to rest below her chest. “You sleep soundly—you won’t hurt him. Must parenthood rob you of sleep too?”
Relaxing at last, Jicheng soon drifted off, dreams sweetened by joy.
Before realizing her pregnancy, Chunfu had been lively. Now, exhaustion clung to her. She struggled to wake, finally roused by voices outside.
Sunlight streamed through papered windows, warming her as she yawned. The muffled voices sounded familiar—was that Jiliang, unseen for months? Why visit Jicheng? Curiosity overpowering her, she threw on a thick coat and peered outside. Jiliang, dressed like an accountant, gripped Jicheng’s sleeve, speaking urgently. Jicheng shook him off, scowling before storming inside.
Startled to find her awake, Jicheng scowled deeper. “What’s Jiliang doing here? Dressed like some shop’s clerk.”
“Why care? His affairs don’t concern us. Wasn’t he so capable before? Why seek outsiders now?” Jicheng’s breath came heavy with anger—and hurt. He’d warned Jiliang repeatedly, only to be ignored. Now regret brought him back? What did that make him—a brother or a tool?
Chunfu patted his back. “Don’t lie. You care. Call him in before he freezes. Ah, I haven’t tidied the bed—wait outside a moment.”
Her chiding softened his rage. Outside, he gruffly told Jiliang, “Stop standing there. People will think I mistreat my own brother.”
Jiliang’s frown eased. Inside, he bowed to Chunfu. “Sister-in-law, forgive my past foolishness.”
Chunfu waved it off. “Everyone stumbles. Brothers shouldn’t stay estranged. Jicheng’s just stubborn.”
Jicheng coughed, embarrassed. “Wash up. Don’t lift a finger—I’ll handle everything.”
Jiliang, watching this, asked, “Has something happened?”
A rare smile touched Jicheng’s lips. “She’s pregnant—our family’s treasure now. You’re back for Qiaoyun? Seen Father?”
Jiliang exhaled. Qiaoyun had been right—Chunfu was Jicheng’s weakness. Had he realized sooner, he might still have a home, a wife. Now, he had nothing. Was it too late to mend things?
“Congratulations, Brother.” He thought of Qiaoyun’s child, lost months ago. The memory ached like an axe splitting his heart. No penance could undo his sins.
“Father… I visited. They’re struggling. Jikun was cast out.” He smiled bitterly. “I was petty too. Jikun slighted me, and I endured it for Father’s sake. How cowardly.”
As Chunfu returned, Jicheng asked, “Hungry?”
She sat beside him, then turned to Jiliang. “Qiaoyun’s family resents yours. I saw her last month—she seemed happy with another. It’s late to say this, but had you woken sooner… Well, nothing’s certain. Only you two can settle this.”
Jiliang nodded. “You’re right. I came to apologize. I was blind, but these months away showed me my folly. Father took me home—he’d begged Qiaoyun’s family, even forced money on her. I can’t let our bond end like this. If she’d just forgive me…”
Chunfu knew of this. Qiaoyun had returned the money to Jiliang’s mother, who’d pocketed it until Jiliang’s father intervened with fists and fury. Villagers whispered that the old man had finally grown a conscience.
Chunfu nudged Jicheng. “Go with him. Qiaoyun still respects you. Mending their marriage would bless our child.”
Jiliang had hoped for this but feared Jicheng’s refusal. Now, seeing his brother’s reluctant nod, his eyes stung. He’d never cherished Qiaoyun as Jicheng did Chunfu. Some learned too late.
“Fine, I’ll go. If you reconcile, our parents may rest easy. Eat the porridge I left warming. I’ll return soon.”
Chunfu watched them leave, struck by their differences. Jicheng was tall and striking; Jiliang, average and plain. Perhaps each took after a different parent.
The wind howled as they walked. Jicheng tucked his hands into his sleeves. “Where’ve you been working? You’re not fit for heavy labor.”
Jiliang rubbed his forehead. “In town. I walked there, ragged and starving. A tea-shop owner took pity—gave me clothes and work as a bookkeeper. He taught me patiently. I’ve two days’ leave to settle things… to bring Qiaoyun back.”
His earnest hope flushed his cheeks. Jicheng’s gaze was complex. “Don’t repeat your mistakes. My patience is spent. Disappoint me again, and I’ll disown you. I don’t need your favors—just let our parents rest in peace.”
He doubted Jiliang. The man had always forgotten pain once comfort returned. Jicheng had lost sleep over him, until numbness set in. Their mother’s dying plea haunted him: *”Jiliang is my regret. Promise you’ll watch over him—he has no one else.”*
Jiliang met his eyes solemnly. “I’ve learned my lesson. If I err again, heaven itself should strike me.”
Bare trees lined their path. Jiliang tried recalling childhood moments with Jicheng, but time had blurred them.
Jiliang broke the silence. “Father complained about Jikun—said he’s hopeless. But he sneaks him food. Chunju had a son, though.” He smirked. “Father’s eyes lit up, but I just said ‘congratulations.’”
He knew Father favored Jikun. Blood ran thick. But trust, once broken, was hard to rebuild.
“Bring your grandson home if you wish. Family is family.”
Jiliang’s father had refused firmly. *”No. We’re better without him. This house is yours—I wronged you.”*
Jiliang had sighed. *”What’s done is done. I’ll visit Brother.”*
He knew Father assumed he’d see Jikun. Time changed people. In months, he’d transformed. Life’s path ahead was thorny, but he’d carve his own way—not for others, but for himself.
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