Chapter Forty-Four: Quarrel

At this thought, Cuijuan couldn’t help but glare fiercely at Chen Wanjun once more.

Wang Luo was well aware that his mother had transferred her resentment over his dismissal onto Wanjun, so he suggested seeking work in another city.

Neither Cuijuan nor Wang’s father objected, but once their son left, what would become of Chen Wanjun?

Wang Luo wanted to take Chen Wanjun with him.

Cuijuan was the first to oppose. For the past few days, all the household chores had fallen to Chen Wanjun; if she left, wouldn’t they land right back on Cuijuan’s own shoulders? She’d toiled her whole life—wasn’t it finally time for a little rest? Besides, she herself had never been to another city, so why should Chen Wanjun get to go?

Yet Cuijuan was clever; she wouldn’t let her son think she was deliberately targeting her daughter-in-law. “You’re going to work, not on vacation. Bringing the whole family along will only distract you.”

“What’s more, Wanjun is pregnant now. If anything happens, what will you do?”

Thinking it over, Wang Luo realized she had a point, so he turned to seek Chen Wanjun’s opinion.

Of course, Chen Wanjun didn’t want to be separated from Wang Luo and immediately voiced her disagreement. “I won’t be a burden to Luo, and I can take care of myself, as well as look after him. How can he be alone in a strange city with no one to help him?”

Both men in the family found her words reasonable.

Cuijuan was unwilling. She plopped onto the floor, wailing and flailing. “Oh heavens! My kindness is mistaken for ill will. You’re carrying my Wang family’s flesh and blood—how can I let you leave? I just want you to stay so I can help care for you if anything happens.”

“You all think I’m a nuisance now, don’t you?”

“My son’s grown up and started despising his old mother!”

She howled until she was gasping for breath, slapping her own face as she wept.

Seeing his mother like this, Wang Luo was immediately stricken with guilt. He hurried to her side, embracing her. “Mother, if you must hit someone, hit me.”

Cuijuan leaned her head on Wang Luo’s shoulder, sobbing pitifully. “Oh son, I just want to help you. Let me take care of your wife and child, so you can be free from worry.”

“Mother, I understand. I know you mean well. I won’t take Wanjun with me—she’ll stay here to keep you company.”

With their performance complete, the matter was settled: Chen Wanjun would remain in the countryside.

The next day, Wang Luo slung his bag over his shoulder and left home.

Before leaving, a sudden impulse struck him—he wanted to see Su Wan, the woman he had wronged.

He walked to the Jiang family’s workshop. Upon entering, he saw Su Wan sitting beneath the awning, pen in hand, jotting and sketching in a notebook.

Today, she wore a beige floral blouse tucked into blue jeans, her shirt neatly tucked in and her hair pulled into a high ponytail. The look was fresh and lively.

She was noticeably thinner—her figure long and straight, her neck graceful, her back as slender as paper, her waist even slimmer. She was a completely different person from before.

Wang Luo walked straight up to her. From this angle, he could see her smooth forehead, her high nose bridge, and—

“To use the restroom, you have a maximum of five minutes. Any longer and your pay will be docked!” Sensing someone nearby, Su Wan assumed it was a lazy worker and spoke sternly.

She furrowed her brow, looked up, and, upon recognizing him, braced herself as if facing an enemy.

What was Wang Luo doing here?

Since he married Chen Wanjun, the system had left her alone; her days had been blissfully peaceful. Now that he was here, what if that cursed system assigned her another task? What if she was forced to follow him? Would she have to play the lovesick fool again, weeping and begging him not to leave?

She stared at Wang Luo in alarm, waiting for the system’s electronic voice to sound.

But to Wang Luo, her expression appeared as sorrowful reluctance and repressed tears.

He suddenly felt ashamed of himself, for having hurt a woman who once loved him so dearly.

“Are you doing well? Is he good to you?” he asked.

Su Wan couldn’t make sense of his question, but since he’d asked, she hesitantly nodded.

Seeing her forced answer, Wang Luo was swept with sadness. He thought, she must be trying not to worry me—she really loves me so much.

But now he was leaving and could do nothing to make amends.

Torn, yet resolute, he turned his head. “Wait for me,” he said, and left.

Even after Wang Luo walked out the door, the system’s electronic voice did not sound.

Su Wan was overjoyed, a bright smile spreading across her face.

She had no idea that every move and word between her and Wang Luo had been witnessed by Jiang Mochen, who had come to bring her lunch.

He had heard Wang Luo’s “Wait for me,” seen Su Wan’s delighted expression, and noticed her look of reluctance and anxiety when Wang Luo mentioned leaving.

What was going on between them? When Wang Luo returned, would Su Wan leave him to be with Wang Luo?

No! Jiang Mochen grew anxious.

He and Su Wan were married, yet hadn’t registered their marriage certificate!

Realizing this, Jiang Mochen didn’t even bother with lunch. He grabbed Su Wan and tried to drag her out the door.

Su Wan, bewildered and with a pile of work still unfinished, protested—she couldn’t just leave like this.

But Jiang Mochen refused to listen—he insisted on taking her to register their marriage certificate immediately.

The two argued, tugging back and forth, when suddenly the drying rack for the cochineal insects was knocked over. Dozens of pounds of precious stock spilled everywhere.

She had already signed several big contracts, all waiting for those insects to be processed into lipstick!

Su Wan’s heart ached terribly. She shook off his hand with force. “Are you out of your mind? I told you I’m busy—can’t you wait until I’ve balanced the accounts?”

It was their first real quarrel. Jiang Mochen stood stunned after her outburst.

Su Wan paid him no mind. She quickly knelt on the ground, gathering the merchandise into a basin.

After sorting out the clean stock, she looked up to find that Jiang Mochen was no longer in the yard.

She didn’t dwell on it, hurrying to weigh the remaining goods and assess her losses.

By the time everything was squared away, dusk had fallen.

When the last of the workers had left, Su Wan locked the workshop and prepared to head home.

She rode her bicycle alone toward her new house, her mind still occupied with which lipstick shades to produce next.

Hu Zihan had already urged her several times; many customers were tired of the two existing colors, and some disliked them outright.

This was a rare opportunity—she had to seize it, or once others caught up, she’d be out of the game.

Though she was tired, her fighting spirit burned bright.

Arriving at her doorstep, Su Wan recalled her argument with Jiang Mochen that day. She detoured to the restaurant he mentioned and bought the mouthwatering chicken he’d enjoyed before.

She planned to apologize.

But when she opened the door, the house was empty.

The living room lights were off; his slippers were exactly as they’d been when they left.

Jiang Mochen hadn’t come home.