Chapter 82: Chapter 81: Ah Ci, You Don’t Want Me to Help You Apply the Ointment?
Although Wen Ci had only joined the hospital after moving to the base with the army, she was still entitled to seven days of marriage leave. The Northwest Military Region might be poor, but its benefits were excellent.
Downstairs in the family courtyard, Zhao Dongmei sat on a chair with a shoe insole in her hands, listening to everyone gossip. She was just like the other unemployed military wives.
They could only pass the days by chatting with their neighbors.
"Mr. Huo’s family is really generous, offering a 28-inch roadster bicycle just like that."
"Tell me about it. That’s a 28-inch roadster we’re talking about. Never mind the high price; the industrial coupons you need to buy a bicycle are incredibly hard to come by. I heard that on the black market, the coupons alone cost as much as the bicycle itself."
The others sitting with her widened their eyes. "That expensive?"
Zhao Dongmei was stitching the shoe insole. When she heard them discussing Huo Jingyuan, she accidentally pricked her hand, and a flash of hatred surfaced in her murky eyes.
The blood from her hand stained the insole’s white fabric red.
"Sister-in-law Dong Mei, you’re bleeding!"
Zhao Dongmei only snapped out of it when someone pointed it out. She put the pricked finger in her mouth and sucked on it, the metallic taste of blood filling her throat.
After a moment, Zhao Dongmei took her finger out of her mouth. The tip was sucked pale. She forced a faint smile. "This shoe insole is a bit thick."
"You should be more careful, Sister-in-law Dong Mei."
Most of the current military dependents had never suffered the hardships of the past, so they didn’t know Zhao Dongmei. They simply called her "Sister-in-law" out of respect for her age.
"I wonder who will take first place in Devil’s Week."
"Speaking of which, do you think the winner could sell the bike? The Northwest isn’t that big. A bicycle doesn’t seem very useful here; it would just be for show."
"What are you talking about? That’s a prize from the leadership. How could anyone possibly sell it?"
Hearing this, an idea flashed through Zhao Dongmei’s mind. If she had Qin Jin win first place in Devil’s Week, not only would he earn some glory in front of the Northwest leadership...
...he would also get Huo Jingyuan’s bicycle.
’And after getting the bicycle, they could sell it and viciously slap him in the face!’
-
When Wen Ci woke up,
she found a tube of ointment on the nightstand. Her entire body felt as if it had been flayed and pulled apart at the joints, especially her lower half, which ached terribly. All traces of sleepiness were gone.
Wen Ci stared wide-eyed at the ceiling.
’Huo Jingyuan was an absolute beast.’
There was a note next to the ointment.
After resting for a bit, Wen Ci reached for the note on the nightstand. The man’s handwriting was surprisingly elegant: *Rest well and stay in bed. I’ll bring you lunch. Apply ointment.*
The last two words, "Apply ointment," were written with a particular flourish, revealing his smug satisfaction.
Wen Ci threw the note aside in a fit of pique and immediately sat up in bed. ’I don’t need that beast of a man to help me apply it. I can do it myself.’
A few moments later, Wen Ci could feel the ointment taking effect.
The ointments and balms used to treat injuries in the 1980s were remarkably effective. It didn’t take long for her to feel her body gradually recovering.
Before Wen Ci could even put her pants on, the door to the room opened.
Huo Jingyuan stood in the doorway, a lunchbox in his hand. He stared at Wen Ci with a searing gaze, a half-smile playing on his lips as he spoke, slow and deliberate. "Ah Ci, were you hoping you wouldn’t need my help with the ointment?"
Wen Ci was speechless.
She felt like she’d been caught red-handed.
Wen Ci grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at Huo Jingyuan, her cheeks puffed out like an angry little pufferfish. "And whose fault is it that you have no self-control?"
Huo Jingyuan tilted his head, catching the pillow between his head and shoulder.
