bookbashuk Chapter 50 should belong to Qin Rushan.
Chapter 50 should belong to Qin Rushan.
How could Sun Laowai let her get away?
The arrow is on the string, and it must be released.
With a sudden burst of strength, he used brute force to press Zhao Cuifen onto the kang (a heated brick bed), making her lie on it like a toad.
It breathed hot, foul-smelling air from its mouth and rammed haphazardly into her neck, not caring whether it was flesh or folds.
"I'll definitely patronize you in the future! But putting out the fire is the priority right now!"
Sun Laowai mumbled incoherently, using brute force to suppress Zhao Cuifen's resistance, "My dear Cuifen, what time is it to talk about money? It's so hurtful... Let me have some fun first, and tomorrow I'll go to the fields and do more work for you to pay off the debt..."
"You old bastard! You're good for nothing but this..."
Zhao Cuifen half-heartedly resisted, cursing under her breath, but her body honestly went to meet her.
She couldn't cover the 200 yuan deficit, but she figured she might as well take advantage of the momentary pleasure.
Soon, the room was filled with a blush-inducing noise, accompanied by the painful groans of the old wooden bed, which sounded particularly jarring and absurd in the quiet of the night.
Two people, whose combined age is over a hundred, each with their own ulterior motives, are conducting a calculated transaction on this musty kang (heated brick bed). There is no affection between them, only naked desire and greed.
The noise gradually subsided in the middle of the night.
On the other side of the wall, Sun Laowai, that rat who had stolen some fish, finally slipped away, and the noise in Zhao Cuifen's room completely stopped, leaving only the occasional nauseating snores.
Separated by only a wall, Qin Rushan was not asleep.
He lay shirtless on the hard wooden bed. There were no lights in the room, only a sliver of moonlight seeping in through the cracks in the window, casting a pale glow on the floor.
My back is burning with pain.
Yesterday, in order to put on a show, I actually rammed my head against the millstone. In order to intimidate Butcher Zhang, I scraped off a large patch of tanned skin on my back, and my tattered shirt was soaked with blood.
Just now, when Er Gou left, he insisted on giving him a bottle of safflower oil.
Qin Rushan touched the scabbed bloodstains on his back with his other hand, without even applying any medicine.
This little bit of pain is nothing.
Compared to the burning fire in his heart that was making him feel agonizing, this little physical injury was nothing compared to a mosquito bite.
He could hear everything that was happening at the Zhao family's house next door.
Even through two courtyard walls, that disgusting sound still blew into my ears on the wind.
Qin Rushan sat up in bed, his muscular body, as tough as iron, taut in the shadows.
He listened to those noises, but instead of feeling anything, he felt nauseous, his stomach churning with nausea.
The Zhao family is a rotten quagmire, it's been rotten to the core for a long time.
That girl spent three whole years soaking in that muddy swamp.
Thinking of this, Qin Rushan dug his fingers into the cracks of the bed board, wood chips getting stuck under his fingernails, causing excruciating pain.
He endured so much hardship.
From last night until now, all he can think about is Li Xianglian's face.
Especially when she was in the woodshed, her face covered in injuries, yet she gritted her teeth and told him, "I believe you."
That ruthlessness, that determination to give up his life, made him want to rush over right now, kick down that broken door, snatch the person back, lock him in his room, and never let anyone see him again.
But he can't.
Er Gou has already gone to the county town to pave the road and cast the nets. He's just waiting to collect the fish tomorrow.
If he makes any sudden movements at this moment, even just a glimpse of his shadow, the whole play will go wrong.
He had to endure it so that she could escape from that inferno of the Zhao family cleanly and innocently.
It's fucking unbearable to hold back.
Qin Rushan took a heavy breath and reached under his pillow.
His treasures are hidden there.
His restless heart calmed down a little when his fingers touched the soft fabric.
He took the thing out and carefully unfolded it by the dim moonlight.
It was an old, faded garment that had even started to pill.
The style was so outdated, the edges were worn, and it had two extremely fine patches, making it look extremely shabby.
He picked it up three years ago by the reeds in the river.
The wind was strong that day, and the garment was blown off the Zhao family's clothesline, hanging on the tip of a reed, swaying back and forth.
There was no one around at the time, and he inexplicably picked it and put it in his pocket.
That one tuck lasted for three years.
At that time, Li Xianglian had only been married into the Zhao family for a short time and had not yet been worn down to the state she is in now.
She would secretly wipe away her tears while washing clothes by the river, and when she saw someone coming, she would quickly wipe them dry and lower her head, pretending that nothing was wrong.
Qin Rushan brought the old garment close to his nose.
It doesn't have the cloying fragrance of osmanthus oil, nor the scent of face cream that city women wear.
It only smelled of soapberry, mixed with the dryness of being sun-dried, and a very faint milky scent that belonged to that woman.
It doesn't smell good; it's even a bit astringent.
But to him, this was the most potent sleeping potion.
Qin Rushan closed his eyes, buried his face in the fabric, and greedily inhaled.
The smell rushed straight to the top of his head through his nostrils, instantly stirring up the beast that was suppressed deep within him.
"Xianglian..."
He murmured something in the darkness.
His voice was hoarse, as if he had a handful of sand in his mouth, and it carried a fierce urge to tear someone apart and devour them.
How did he get through those three years?
The whole village avoided him, calling him a "cursed lone star" and saying he would bring misfortune to his father and mother.
Only she, whenever they met on the village road, although she was also afraid and would lower her head to let them pass, never covered her nose like others did, or showed that look of disgust.
One time, during a heavy rain, he hunted a wild boar on the mountain. On his way down the mountain, he slipped and fell, just in time to run into her harvesting peanuts in the field.
She didn't run away.
Instead, he took off his straw hat, placed it on a stone by the roadside, and then hurried away.
That straw hat is still hanging on his wall.
This woman is kind-hearted, but her life is full of hardship.
It should belong to him, Qin Rushan.
Once this thought took root, it grew wildly into a towering tree in the long night, filling his entire being.
He wanted to snatch her away from the Zhao family, strip her of all her patched and tattered clothes, and buy her the best Dacron and the most expensive face cream.
I want to raise her to be plump and healthy, and I want to see her smile in front of me.
I want to...
On that large kang bed that belonged to them, I heard her sincerely call out "Brother Rushan".
The blood in my body surged hot and dry, and a certain place throbbed with pain.
Qin Rushan suddenly opened his eyes, several veins bulging on his forehead, his breathing heavy as if he were working a bellows.
He clutched the old garment tightly in his hand, the veins on the back of his hand bulging menacingly, as if he wanted to knead the fabric into his very bones.
But he didn't move.
He just stared intently at the dark roof beam above his head, slowly suppressing the urge to destroy everything within him.
Don't rush.
After tonight, it will be dawn.
When dawn breaks, it will be her good day.
Qin Rushan rolled out of bed, walked to the water vat in the corner, scooped up a ladle of cold water, and drank it down.
The icy well water slid down his throat and into his stomach, sending a shiver down his spine and finally calming him down a bit.
He carefully folded the little garment, which he had almost crumpled, smoothing out every crease, and then solemnly tucked it back into the deepest part of his pillow.
That was his longing, and also his vow.