Sweet Wife in My Arms

Now, she was counting down the seconds, the days, the months and this winter season. After this, she could go home. So, no matter how challenging, how cold, how disheartened she felt, she must endure it.

She tossed a few more pieces of firewood into the stove, then opened the door and walked out. When she returned, she carried with her a bundle of firewood. As her feet sank into the snow with every step she took, her body suddenly felt lighter. She turned around and blinked. Snowflakes fell onto her lashes as they instantly melted into water droplets, soaking her long eyelashes.

"Thank you." She batted her long lashes. Now, she could finally face the people in the village undisturbed. When she first saw her face, she dared not meet anyone for days. After all, she had been beautiful since her past life. She had inherited the best genes, and ever since she was a child, all she ever heard was how gorgeous and dainty she was, and how she was a national treasure. All of a sudden, however, she realized that her face that she had always held pride in was gone. She was hurt, but she knew it was not the end of the world. It only took a few days for her to figure it out.

Now that she was leading a life like this, compared to a pretty face, she would rather live with an unsightly appearance.

"I'll help you carry it," said a man, skinny as a bag of bones, his tan face littered with red. This person was the one who hauled her out of the water. He was her savior.

His name was Changsheng, and he was one of the villagers, born and raised in the village. The youngsters in the village had all gone to other places to seek work, but he was the only one who stayed, farming on the few acres of land his family possessed, and living with his mother. It was only him and his mother, whom he had spent all those years taking care of. If he had also left, what was his widowed mother going to do?

However, Changsheng was strong as an ox. When it came to farming, he was incredibly an expert. He was hardworking, and his hands were also skillful. It was just that the resources in the village were limited after all, and if they had solely depended on those few acres of land, they would be lucky enough to harvest a year's worth of food, not to mention earn money with it. No outsider was willing to marry into the village since once they did, they would never be able to get out. Hence, there were still a handful of young folks in the village who remained unmarried to this day, and Changsheng was one of them. The oldest bachelor in the village was already in his forties. There were hardly any girls in the village, not to mention a person, a living woman.

Changsheng moved all of the firewood into the run-down hut. This used to be a living space for the villagers, but ever since the last family relocated, the house remained vacant. Nothing of good worth was found inside, but it was still inhabitable. It could still provide shelter from the wind and the rain.

"Thank you," Yan Huan uttered another word of gratitude. She carried the firewood inside. The frostbites on her hands were particularly noticeable, every finger was swollen like a carrot, but she did not seem to care.

"No worries." Changsheng touched the back of his head, perhaps out of embarrassment. After all, young maidens like her were not abundant in the village. On top of that, most of them had high standards and preferred going out to find work, to experience life in bustling cities. The ones who left never came back and even if they did, it was just to bring their families away with them. They would claim that no matter how bad the outside world was, it was still far better than living in this poor ravine as if even farts in the city smelled nice.

Right, look at him. He had even forgotten about the important matters. He pulled out a small bag.

"Xiao Yan, this is for you, keep it for now. Everything will turn out just fine by springtime."

Yan Huan took the bag in her hand. It was a small bag made of cloth, and she had no idea what was inside. She opened it to look and gawked at its contents in surprise. It was a bag of rice, sown and harvested by the villagers themselves. It was neither too much nor too little, possibly about five kilograms. These five kilograms of rice plus the initial amount she had left could definitely last her through the winter.

Yet, she only clenched her fist tightly around the bag of rice.

"Changsheng, what about your family?"

"My family…" Changsheng chuckled, "It's not like you don't know about the situation at home. We have enough for my mother and me, we will have much more than you. Just eat the rice. No matter how cold it gets, you shouldn't starve yourself."

"Thank you." Yan Huan clutched the bag of rice to her chest. She could feel a tingling sensation on her fingers, brought about by the warmth radiating from within the bag, as if it contained Changsheng's sincerity as if it carried hope.

That's right. No matter how cold it was, it was easy to endure. However, what if hunger struck? What could she do?

She made sure to remember Changsheng's generous deed. Once she returned home, she would repay them ten times, no, a thousand times, ten thousand times more.

Changsheng stared at the window for a good period of time before he walked off, deep in thought. Yan Huan cautiously poured the bag of rice into a jar and hid it. Although the people in the mountains led a simple life, she did not want to risk anything. This was her only source of food and she would not be able to afford it if she were to buy it herself. Once she got out of here, she would be able to get her hands on some money, be it by picking up trash or by begging for food. As long as she had the money, she could call home; as long as she had the money, she could go home.

After her meal, she stepped outside once again to gather more firewood as the more the better. Best case scenario, she could block the window, so it would not be as cold in the middle of the night.

Unbeknownst to her, however, at this moment, not too far away, a sneaky man was spying on her. At one glance, it seemed as if a dim glow was flickering within that pair of glaring, turbid eyes.

Yan Huan hoisted the firewood onto her back and felt as if she had actually become porcelain. A young lady coming from the ravines, not knowing the path home, just like porcelain encompassing all sorts of dramatic happenings. Though she knew that reality was merely reality; stories were no more than stories; and movies would simply be movies, that was neither reality nor life. Life was filled with various kinds of uncertainty and accidents. It might contain some surprises, but whatever laid within those surprises would only be revealed when you managed to encounter one.

Porcelains were porcelains, just like how Yan Huan would only be Yan Huan.

It was undeniable that her life had been extraordinarily resilient. Perhaps it could be put this way, the year she turned 28 was a critical point in her life. In her previous life, she did not manage to live past 28, but in this life, she survived.

On top of that, she planned to continue living, constantly living her life.

By the time she had collected enough firewood, the sky was growing dark. Despite that, she did not feel cold. Maybe it was because she had been here for a long time, and had adapted to the weather. Hence, it did not feel as cold or piercing as it did when she first arrived.