He gritted these words out, then turned and walked away, not wanting to see her for even a minute. She was driving him to the brink of collapse. He thought his brain must be rusted to always be controlled by her.
The cicadas on the tree continued to sing. The wind blew, sweeping through the leaves, rustling softly. Fragmented light scattered through the dense foliage. Jing Xin stood frozen in place, a faint smile spreading at the corner of her mouth. She forgot to move, her heart silent yet blooming like a thousand flowers.
“Xiangyang, Xiangyang,” Jing Xin softly called, the ordinary words carrying a lingering flavor.
Jiang Xiangyang turned back.
That woman seemed lost, standing in place.
He almost roared, “Tian Jingxin, are you going to buy groceries?” He was stunned. Tian Jingxin? When had he combined “Miss Tian” from his mother’s mouth with “Jingxin” from her classmates? He didn’t even know himself.
Shaking his head, he didn’t want to add to his troubles. His world was filled with blood and wind, and he couldn’t guarantee his own life. There was no need to spend energy on a woman.
Jiang Xiangyang was inept at household chores. The groceries were chosen by Jing Xin. She was determined to buy cuttlefish and asked several stores, all saying they were sold out.
Jiang Xiangyang found it troublesome. Why couldn’t they eat fish another day? But she insisted on buying today, and Jing Xin continued to ask. He grabbed her, saying impatiently, “Are you done? Our family doesn’t like fish.”
Jing Xin just smiled at him. Her warm smile seemed to penetrate into his heart. He turned away in annoyance, disliking her smile.
Jing Xin carried two cuttlefish and called after him, “Xiangyang, look, I bought them.” She looked satisfied, as if she had obtained a treasure.
When they returned home, Xiangyang’s mother was still sleeping.
Jing Xin didn’t wake her.
She took the groceries to the kitchen, washed and cut them carefully, meticulously preparing lunch.
