Daily Life of Raising Kids and Running a Stall - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Wedding Night

After the family meeting, everyone had a basic understanding of each other.

Qiu Yuruo reassigned the housework and sent Su Jingshu and her younger sister off to their tasks. She kept Su Yunche behind and asked in more detail about Su Yunting’s daily care needs.

Thankfully, Su Yunting was still unconscious. If he could hear the things they were discussing, the emotional overload alone might have short-circuited his already fragile consciousness.

The next time Su Yunting’s awareness returned, he felt someone supporting his back and gently easing him into a flat position.

The strength in those hands was clearly greater than his younger brother’s.

And the moment he realized who it was holding him, a surge of emotion rocked him so hard his very consciousness trembled.

If it had been any other woman, Su Yunting might’ve felt only mild embarrassment.

But this was different. This was Qiu Yuruo.

His wife.

In his previous life, during those lonely, high-ranking final years, he had imagined more than once that if he could wake up and find Qiu Yuruo alive and well, they might live like a normal married couple, share the intimacy and bond that came with being husband and wife.

He had fantasized about holding her, about being close, but never had he imagined that their first physical contact would come like this.

Not like this.

He didn’t mind showing his most vulnerable self in front of others. But Qiu Yuruo was different.

She wasn’t someone he owed affection or duty to like his siblings or mother. She was a stranger once, someone who, through no fault of her own, was dragged into the wreckage of his life and died because of it.

His mother and siblings hadn’t suffered only because of him, but Qiu Yuruo’s tragic death in his last life had been entirely due to him.

He never remarried after that. Never considered it.

Now, faced with the reality of her caring for him while he lay like a lifeless doll, shame and guilt mixed into a heavy, unbearable weight.

He had dreamed of making it up to her, of offering her a good life. But instead, all she got to see was the worst version of him.

Qiu Yuruo finished changing his clothes and laying him down again. After all the effort, a fine sheen of sweat appeared on her forehead.

She had bathed earlier, and now, too tired to go out and wash again, she wiped her brow with a cloth, blew out the lamp, and climbed into bed beside him.

Her body had improved after days of rest and nourishing meals, but her stamina had clearly dropped.

That wouldn’t last. In a few days, she’d be back to full strength.

As she lay there planning tomorrow’s errands, she shifted and accidentally pressed her bent leg right on top of him.

She froze. Oh right. There’s someone else in the bed.

Su Yunting had just made peace with this new reality when her leg landed squarely across his body.

“Sorry, sorry,” she murmured. “I forgot there was someone else on the bed.”

Su Yunting smiled inwardly. He wanted to say it was fine, really. But of course, no words came out.

Instead, silence greeted her apology.

She let out a small sigh and pulled back the thin blanket. Her hand landed gently on his shoulder as she whispered, “You must be tired, lying in one position all day. I’ll help you turn over.”

He hadn’t realized how exhausting it was until now. Motionless for over half an hour, he thought he’d gotten used to it. But at her touch, he suddenly wished more than anything that he could turn on his own.

She braced herself on the bed and tried to shift him, but his unconscious body wasn’t exactly easy to maneuver.

After two failed attempts, she sat up, planted both hands on him—one on his shoulder, the other gripping his pants—and heaved. Under the moonlight streaming through the window, she finally managed to roll him onto his side.

She adjusted his legs so that one bent more than the other and took a step back to examine her work.

It still looked a bit off.

What am I missing? she wondered.

She couldn’t figure it out just by looking. So she lay down next to him, mimicking his posture to figure it out.

Her breathing was soft and steady, and he could feel it brushing against his face.

Once she found a comfortable position, she glanced over and laughed softly. “So that’s what it is. I forgot to fix your arms.”

She gently pulled out the arm that had been pinned beneath him and adjusted the other so they rested comfortably, one draped over the other.

“There,” she said with satisfaction. “That should feel better.”

And it did. His body immediately felt lighter.

She lay down facing him again. The moonlight illuminated his features faintly.

Qiu Yuruo had slept alone for many years. As a child in her past life, her mother’s poor health had led her to sleep in her own bed from an early age.

And in this life, her parents were gone from the moment she opened her eyes.

Now, someone shared her bed. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But he was alive. And he was someone she could safely be near.

She reached out and lightly touched his hand. The warmth beneath her fingers reassured her.

He won’t wake, she thought. And even if he does, he probably won’t remember this.

So she took his hand in hers.

“Hang in there,” she murmured. “I’ll take care of your siblings. You just focus on staying alive. Stay with me for a few more years, all right?”

Those years in the Qiu family had nearly broken her. The verbal abuse, the meager food, the bone-deep loneliness. It had all worn her down.

Now, no one could scold her. And once she started earning money, she would eat well.

She had a husband now, silent and still as he was. He could be her emotional anchor. He didn’t need to talk back. He just needed to be there, breathing beside her.

Marrying into the Su family may have been out of desperation, but now that she was here, it didn’t feel like a bad decision at all.

In fact, it felt right.

She had no overbearing elders to suppress her, no one forcing her to have children. She could run the family and build a better life.

She had a talent for cooking. In her past life, even simple home meals she prepared tasted better than what restaurants served.

Even in this life, old Old Lady Zhou had guarded the kitchen like a hawk but still let her cook, just because her food was too good to pass up.

This was a peaceful time. No wars, no chaos. Just give her five years, and she’d make this family the envy of the village.

She believed that with all her heart.

Sleep started to pull at her, but just as she drifted off, a thought jerked her awake.

Su Yunting always slept on his back. Tonight he was lying on his side. If she rolled in her sleep and pushed him face down, what if he suffocated?

She sat up abruptly and rolled him onto his back again.

“There,” she whispered. “Now I don’t have to worry about you being smothered.”

She lay back down, and silence returned to the room.

But the sound of her steady breathing reminded him he wasn’t alone anymore.

And for the first time in what felt like two lifetimes, Su Yunting felt a quiet peace settle in his heart.

He stopped wondering about the tragic ending Qiu Yuruo had met in his past life.

He didn’t need to question her identity.

She was the orphaned second daughter of the Qiu family. His wife, in both lifetimes.

All he wanted now was for her to live well.

And for the first time in years, he didn’t feel alone.

…

The new surroundings did nothing to disturb Qiu Yuruo’s sleep. She slept soundly and woke just before dawn.

It took a few seconds to remember where she was and what had changed in her life.

Her first instinct was to check on her husband.

Su Yunting was lying on his back, just as she had left him. Not only was his posture the same, even his hands were still placed exactly where she’d arranged them.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Panicking, she reached out and placed her fingers beneath his nose.

Warm breath tickled her hand.

She exhaled sharply in relief.

“It scared me to death,” she muttered, patting her chest.

It wasn’t paranoia. After all, it was alarming to see someone lie motionless all night long without the slightest shift in position.

She then slipped her hand under the covers. The bedding was still dry.

Now she could finally breathe easy. Yunche hadn’t lied. Su Yunting’s internal clock really was right on schedule.