The Male Lead Has Something on His Mind
“Alright, I’ll follow the organization’s arrangements,” Lin Chuan agreed with a nod. In truth, he wanted to return to work as soon as possible, but given his current condition, he knew he wasn’t fit for any assignments. Perhaps returning home with his wife to recuperate was the better option for now.
The political officer left, and as soon as the door closed, Su Su woke up. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up and asked, “Was someone here?”
“Yeah, the political officer from the unit came by. He said I’ll be discharged in four or five days and should recover at home.”
“Really? That means we can go home together!” Su Su said excitedly.
“Don’t you like living in the city?” Lin Chuan asked, surprised. This was, after all, a small city, and yet she seemed to prefer the rural village. She was truly a peculiar girl.
“I like anywhere you are,” Su Su said sweetly. It wasn’t even meant to be flirty—just a simple truth. Modern girls often expressed their feelings in a straightforward manner like this.
Lin Chuan, however, wasn’t used to such words. He’d never heard anything like it from a woman in his life. His face turned red immediately, and he quickly grabbed the goji berry tea to drink several gulps, hoping to compose himself. Despite the awkwardness, there was a warmth in his chest—he wasn’t sure if it was from the tea or the sweetness in Su Su’s words.
“Mm,” he murmured, reaching out to hold her hand. But Su Su playfully dodged, and his hand landed on her head instead. Her soft hair felt like the fur of the kitten his family once kept when he was young. When he patted her head, she even closed her eyes and smiled, resting her head on the bed’s edge like a docile little kitten.
Lin Chuan coughed lightly, hiding his delight. The pain in his wound seemed to fade away instantly.
Just as the atmosphere grew warm, a young nurse pushed the door open. Seeing the scene before her, she stopped short, her lips twitching. “I’m here to give an injection.”
Lin Chuan quickly withdrew his hand, while Su Su looked up and asked, “Where?”
“A muscle injection,” the nurse replied.
“Alright.” Su Su immediately took charge, moving to Lin Chuan’s side to assist. She reached out to pull down his pants, but Lin Chuan’s large hand gripped the waistband firmly, refusing to let go.
“Let go. Are you afraid of the pain?” Su Su tugged but couldn’t get the waistband to budge, shooting him an annoyed glare.
The nurse’s hands trembled as she prepared the syringe. Lin Chuan was notoriously difficult to deal with, and his scolding was legendary. But with his wife here, perhaps the injection could proceed smoothly this time?
Despite his resistance, Lin Chuan reluctantly loosened his grip under Su Su’s glare. She swiftly pulled his pants down just enough and asked the nurse, “Is this okay?”
“Yes, that’s fine,” the nurse replied, grateful for Su Su’s assistance. Even wolves bow down to their mates, she mused silently.
With Su Su’s help, the injection went smoothly, and the nurse left with the tray. Su Su adjusted Lin Chuan’s pants and said, “It’s just a muscle injection. Why the big fuss?”
“Mm.” Lin Chuan wasn’t afraid of pain; he just didn’t like anyone other than Su Su touching him.
“Did it hurt?”
“No,” he replied curtly. It was just a shot—how could he admit it hurt, especially in that area?
Su Su chuckled softly. Lin Chuan’s tough exterior, coupled with his shy vulnerability around her, was oddly endearing. It tickled something deep within her heart, making it feel light and warm.
Unable to resist, she cupped his face and kissed an uninjured spot. Finding such a place was harder than expected.
Lin Chuan’s face turned crimson, the colour spreading to his neck and ears.
Ah, so this is what they mean by “blushing hero,” Su Su thought, amused.
“I’ll go fetch water,” she said cheekily, leaving Lin Chuan smouldering with embarrassment. Despite his frustration at being side-lined due to his injury, her small gestures made him think that perhaps this wasn’t so bad. A period of peaceful days at home with his wife sounded nice.
Well, except for the fact they didn’t have children yet.
But that wasn’t a concern. As long as they worked hard, how could they not “cultivate a good harvest”?
That evening, after dinner, Lin Chuan insisted Su Su return to the guesthouse to rest. She initially refused but relented when he promised to have her back early the next day.
The guesthouse was modest but clean. After checking in with her proof of identity, Su Su fetched some water, washed up, and changed into fresh clothes before settling in with a book. However, she soon decided she should make the most of her time in the city and do some shopping for the Lin family. She wanted to buy gifts for the three brothers, the elder couple, and, of course, some essentials for Lin Chuan.
After asking for directions to the market, she ventured out. The city was on the cusp of reform, but most goods were still sold at state-run supply cooperatives, which were already closed for the day. She ended up at a private vendor, where goods were more expensive but didn’t require ration tickets.
She picked out a few practical items for Lin Chuan: a simple pair of trousers, some thermal underwear, socks, and a pair of slippers. When asked about his size, she hesitated for a moment before guessing, “About 24 or 25 inches at the waist.” She vaguely remembered his broad shoulders and narrow waist from their brief time together.
The vendor, seeing she was a discerning buyer, offered, “We also have discounted cotton-padded pants from last year. Both men’s and women’s styles. Would you like to take a look?”
“Discounted?” Su Su tilted her head.
“Yes, special offer,” the vendor quickly corrected, realizing the word “discounted” sounded more appealing.
“Let me see them,” Su Su said, intrigued. She loved a good deal.
The vendor showed her a pile of cotton-padded items, slightly dusty but warm and durable. Su Su thought about how the Lin family valued practicality and warmth, especially in the cold village. She chose several pairs of padded shoes for the brothers, noting how their worn-out footwear barely held together.
“How much for the shoes?” she asked.
“Three yuan a pair,” the vendor replied.
“Two yuan if I buy six pairs,” Su Su countered. One pair for each family member except herself—her shoes were fine and self-restoring thanks to her unique circumstances. The vendor hesitated, then agreed. Su Su smiled, feeling accomplished.
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