Offense - Chapter 36
Chapter 36
Lian Wan helped Zhou Yanqian put on a pure white cotton nightdress. It had thin straps, a straight hem that fell below the knees, and no cinched waist-a very old style. But Zhou Yanqian, with her arms around Lian Wan's neck, said it was newly made at the tailor's shop in the East District.
That shop was one of the few remaining tailor shops in town. After the rise of online shopping, very few people went to these kinds of shops with long turnaround times to have clothes made. Lian Wan would occasionally pass by and see that the mountains of fabric that used to be piled high in the shop were gone. The sewing machine in the back was now openly visible, no longer a mystery. The owner would be sitting beside it, head down, mending a button or fixing a zipper.
She hummed in acknowledgment. She was a little curious about when Zhou Yanqian had gone, and how, but she didn't say anything out loud. She just wrapped her arms around her waist and helped gather her damp hair.
The familiar scent of shampoo eagerly spilled out from the towel, but this time it was right beside her. Lian Wan kept her head down, patiently drying the dripping ends of her hair. It was the first time she had ever done this for someone; her arms were a bit stiff, and she didn't dare to use too much force.
But Zhou Yanqian was leaning against her chest. Her bare shoulders pressed tightly against Lian Wan's collarbone. The thin straps hung loosely there, and along with the lingering passion in the corners of her eyes, they seemed like an ornament on her body. She didn't say a word, becoming as quiet as a little girl, letting Lian Wan tend to her-the thought made Lian Wan feel a little unused to it, and a little bashful.
She lowered her eyes, unable to deny the secret happiness that rose from the bottom of her heart because of this version of Zhou Yanqian.
At eleven o'clock at night, they sat at the dining table, eating a late dinner.
The reheated cooked food was especially soft, its texture slightly inferior, but it had a special kind of warmth. It was a completely different feeling from when Lian Wan cooked instant noodles or vegetable soup for herself. The two of them shared three dishes, with two sets of bowls and chopsticks directly across from each other.
"Eat more," Zhou Yanqian said thoughtfully.
She placed food in Lian Wan's bowl, still appearing very much at ease. Her expression didn't show it, but she secretly stretched her leg out under the table to brush against the other's ankle. Even her chewing was slow and deliberate.
Lian Wan always felt her throat was too slender, that she had to swallow a single mouthful of rice in several small gulps.
After all, her neck was so slender, you could wrap a single hand around it.
She lowered her eyes and, as if to hide her thoughts, stuffed a large mouthful of rice into her mouth.
When food finally fell into a stomach that had endured hunger, it always gave one the illusion of having touched the very end of life.
This familiar illusion repeated day after day, seeming as if it would go on forever.
But this meal passed so quickly. It felt as if Lian Wan had just lowered her head and raised it again, and the meal was already almost over.
"Give me the bowl." Zhou Yanqian stood up and reached out to take the bowl and chopsticks from Lian Wan's hands.
She looked over, paused for a moment, and pointed to the washroom beside them. "Why are you sweating so much again? Is it that hot? Go wash your face-there are towels inside, already hung up. Just pick one."
Lian Wan belatedly touched her chin and lowered her eyes. "Okay."
Of course, there were only two towels, and both were pink.
They had very old-fashioned, machine-embroidered patterns. One was embroidered with mandarin ducks playing in the water, the other with the words "Mountain temple peach blossoms begin to bloom."
Lian Wan stared at herself in the mirror. A familiar face, familiar hair. The feeling of sweat trickling down to her ears was also so familiar. Her forehead, the tip of her nose-splashed with cool water, her whole face steamed with heat.
Her hair was plastered to her head, making her look a bit disheveled.
She'd had a constitution prone to sweating since she was a child, and it had gotten worse as she grew up. At first, her grandmother had worried it was due to a weak constitution and had her drink traditional Chinese medicine for a whole summer, but it didn't help. Later, with no one at home to look after her, sweating became a commonplace part of her daily life. In her line of work, washing clothes was a luxury on long-haul trips, let alone on short ones. The division of labor in town wasn't standardized; after a job, she'd come home and wash her face, and the water running through her fingers would be filthy with the dust she'd picked up helping unload cargo at the factories.
What was the big deal about sweating a lot?
And yet, clutching that pink towel embroidered with mandarin ducks, Lian Wan felt a long-forgotten sense of shame and embarrassment.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror and felt as if the sweat and water droplets were about to turn her into a rain-drenched, soaking-wet defeated dog.
There was no way for her to stop sweating.
Tomorrow, she had to go to the furniture factory and then to the county to help with loading and unloading. She might not even be back by evening. In the days to come, sweating in the hot night wind while making small talk, offering cigarettes, and running around-these were all parts of the job she was all too familiar with.
The master who had taught her to drive had told her long ago: "If you want to make money in this line of work, you have to endure hardship, and you have to have stamina."
Lian Wan wasn't afraid of hardship, but it seemed she hadn't been able to hold out.
Zhou Yanqian would just crook a finger, and she would follow, dazed and clueless.
Just like now, she was holding this towel, washing it over and over as if it were a treasure.
Leaving the washroom, she could see the scene in the kitchen at a glance through the wooden entryway.
Zhou Yanqian had her back to her, washing the sink full of dishes. Hearing footsteps behind her, she started chattering about something.
It seemed like a scene she had never experienced before. Lian Wan stood rooted to the spot, feeling awkward and constrained for a good while before she slowly walked over.
She couldn't say what she wanted to do, but the countless prototypes of a "home" in her imagination felt strangely at odds with the scene before her.
Only when Lian Wan gently wrapped her arms around her from behind did she understand the source of that incongruity.
Zhou Yanqian was not her wife. She had only touched her body; how could she throw herself into the mortal world with her?
"What's wrong?"
But amidst the sound of running water and clinking dishes, the woman's nape was warm. Her voice was very, very soft, falling into the lingering aroma of the meal and holding a tenderness that wouldn't dissolve.
"Getting impatient? Go sit down for a bit."
"No..." Lian Wan's chin rested on her shoulder. She paused, at a loss for words, before saying softly, "...Thank you for your hard work."
By saying things like this, could they become a family?
"Why so well-behaved all of a sudden?" She turned her head to look, the smile on her lips not yet faded. It was the first time Lian Wan had seen this side of Zhou Yanqian-gentle, not flashy, a flower bud with its petals drawn in, seeming to have become pure and noble. "Did you wash your face properly?"
She tilted her head, making a show of nuzzling her. "Let me check."
Lian Wan lowered her head and pressed her cheek against the side of Zhou Yanqian's face. It was cool and smelled faintly of lemon dish soap.
She also asked, "Is it clean?"
The answer was a huff of laughter that escaped through her nose.
Zhou Yanqian lowered her head again to rinse the bowl in her hands and smiled teasingly. "I don't know. Your face is so hot."
Lian Wan silently pressed her lips together and said no more.
She stayed with her until she finished washing the dishes, then waited for her to complete her series of complex nightly skincare routines. Zhou Yanqian turned off the bedside lamp and, in the darkness, lowered her head to kiss her.
Their lips and tongues were scorching, their breaths rising and falling, as if she were being pulled down into the depths of the water.
The residential area was exceptionally quiet at midnight, without a single sound.
They made love a second time. Lian Wan was again covered in sweat, which slid down the bridge of her nose until Zhou Yanqian wiped it away.
"I'll go wash up," Lian Wan said.
But the woman in the bed shook her head, cupped Lian Wan's face in her hands to look at it for a long while, and then pulled her into her soft bosom.
"Don't go. This is fine." Zhou Yanqian murmured as if sighing, her voice growing softer and softer. She seemed truly tired, but her arms still held tightly around Lian Wan's waist.
As she spoke, she gently tapped the top of Lian Wan's head with her chin.
"Hold me..."
The woman's chest was a handful of warm clouds, quiet, as if brewing some deep and profound storm. So when Lian Wan's tears welled up silently, it was like rain returning to its homeland.
Comments
Post a Comment