Chen Shan went out to work for three years and returned to the village with a clean face.
As soon as I opened the door, my daughter-in-law Lin Wanqiu came up to me. She poked his chest with her white and tender fingers, and her peach blossom eyes were full of mist: "Do you still want to come back? I thought you looked down on me, a yellow-faced country woman, and you went out to pick wild flowers."
She was wearing floral pajamas that had been washed white, with the collar hanging loosely open. Her body was as soft as a puddle of water, which made him stiff all over. A faint fragrance mixed with the smell of sweat and cream penetrated his nose, making him more heady than any other perfume outside.
Chen Shan's Adam's apple rolled, and he rubbed her into his arms: "Those wild flowers outside are not even comparable to a hair on your head."
Early the next morning, the tongue-tied woman in the village stood by the well and laughed at him for being a coward, saying that his wife would run away with someone else sooner or later. Lin Wanqiu walked over with her waist twisted, put her hands on her hips, and scolded those blasphemous women until they were bloody. She turned around and took his hand. Her voice was so soft that she could squeeze water out of her mouth: "Shanzi, go home, and my wife will make you some egg noodles."
Chen Shan grabbed her slender waist, held her close to him, and leaned into her ear: "I won't eat any noodles yet. Why is your body... So weak again?"
Lin Wanqiu's cheeks turned red, and she punched him angrily: "The sign of death is in broad daylight... Let's talk about it when we go home."
People in the village said that sooner or later he would go out to hunt for wild food. Chen Shan hugged his wife tighter - these people didn't understand at all. No matter how beautiful the wild flowers outside are, they are still empty. Only when this domestic flower at home blooms to him alone with the door closed, can it be called truly fragrant.
