586: Chapter 586 is under revision.

If she liked it, then so be it; life just went on like that.

Not long after, good news arrived.

Zhou Heng was getting married.

But at the same time, there was also bad news.

He was leaving.

The woman was far away, beyond Qingzhou, making travel a hassle.

Normally, the bride should have married into this side.

But Zhou Heng's business there was already settled and stable, and it couldn't be moved easily.

Furthermore, his great vendetta had long been resolved, and this Liuxi Town had instead become a place of sorrow for him.

Every blade of grass and every tree, everything he saw, evoked old memories of when his father was still alive.

Staying here would only add to his grief.

After much thought, he took his mother and moved there together to settle down.

Occasionally, he would come back for a visit, bringing some local products from Qingzhou, staying for a short while before leaving.

On the day of Zhou Heng's wedding, Qin Wangchuan went as promised.

At the wedding banquet, Zhou Heng was dressed in his wedding robes, and that empty sleeve had been carefully tucked away and neatly hidden by the bride.

The girl beside him was gentle and lovely; she was the very one he had lost an arm to save with all his might back then.

After all the twists and turns, it was ultimately a Perfection ending.

When they reached Qin Wangchuan's table for a toast, the two looked at each other.

Who said nothing more.

Everything was understood without words.

Qin Wangchuan said a few words of blessing, saying, "If you have trouble in the future, you can come find me."

Zhou Heng looked back at him and grinned, but his eyes were slightly moist.

In that smile, a sentence was hidden that he could never quite say out loud.

——Thank you, Qin Wangchuan.

Life returned to tranquility.

But at some unknown point, Qin Wangchuan slowly noticed a change.

The intervals between Qin Zhaoer's beatings were gradually shortening.

At first, she only offended once every ten days or half a month.

Later, it was every three to five days.

Later still, there was some commotion almost every other day.

The reasons also became increasingly perfunctory.

From "your tea is cold" to "the skirt I'm wearing today isn't pretty" to "you didn't look at me just now," anything could become her self-righteous excuse for making trouble.

Qin Wangchuan didn't think much of it at first.

Until one day, Qin Zhaoer brought a plate of snacks to him, saying it was a new recipe she had learned.

He took a bite; it was cloyingly sweet. He looked up to say something, only to see her looking at him expectantly, with a hint of... anticipation hidden in her eyes?

He paused.

"Did you do that on purpose?"

Qin Zhaoer looked away, the tips of her ears turning red, but she still insisted, "No, I didn't..."

Qin Wangchuan stared at her for a moment, said nothing more, and simply patted his knee.

Qin Zhaoer's body trembled slightly.

Then, she stood up and walked over obediently.

Later on, even the excuses were omitted.

Sometimes in the afternoon, sometimes at dusk, she would walk straight over, lie across his knees, look up with slightly red eyes and lowered lashes, her voice soft and clingy.

Over time, this actually became a tacit little bit of playfulness between the two.

From then on, whenever Qin Wangchuan wanted to do something, even if she was originally unwilling, he didn't need to ask for her opinion at all.

He only had to pat his knee and give her a sign.

Although the girl was still stubborn and would linger with a red face for a long while, in the end, she would always lean over obediently and comply with everything.

It wasn't that Qin Wangchuan didn't notice their behavior was a bit unusual.

But every time he saw that fearless Eighth Sister lying obediently on his lap, he felt it was no big deal.

Refreshing!

Time flowed silently.

Flowers in the small courtyard bloomed and fell, tea grew cold and was refilled, and the wind chimes under the eaves tinkled in the breeze.

The inexplicable something between Qin Wangchuan and Qin Zhaoer quietly grew closer amidst the daily bickering and beatings.

Relationships are things that grow closer bit by bit.

First, when eating at the same table, their chopsticks would touch, and neither would avoid it anymore.

Later, they shared an umbrella on rainy days, shoulder to shoulder. The old fifty-wen umbrella clearly wasn't small, yet the two walked closer and closer together.

Later still, it was after the lamps were lit.

She would trim the wick for him, and he would pull up her slipping outer robe; their movements were familiar and natural, leaving no room for others to gossip.

The turning point was at dusk that day.

Qin Zhaoer was standing on her tiptoes to hang newly cured meat on the roof beam when her foot slipped, and she fell backward.

Qin Wangchuan reached out and caught her.

Looking down, their faces were extremely close, close enough to count each other's eyelashes.

The soup on the stove was still bubbling, and the sky outside the window was ablaze with sunset clouds.

It was unclear who moved first.

In short, their lips pressed together just like that.

It was very light and brief, like a dragonfly skimming the water.

When they separated, Qin Zhaoer's face was so red it could bleed. She turned and ran, even forgetting to hang the cured meat.

But from then on, some things could no longer be held back.

Held hands no longer let go, and pressed foreheads stayed together longer and longer.

Finally, on a night as ordinary as any other, that thin layer of window paper was broken.

For those few days, the Qin Family courtyard was quiet; for three whole days, the door was never opened.

The neighbors simply assumed the young couple had gone on a long trip and didn't ask much.

Since then, Qin Zhaoer seemed like a completely different person.

From before, her wantonness was about making a scene, being stubborn, and finding ways to cause trouble.

Now, her wantonness was about being clingy.

When he forged iron, she would bring a small stool to sit beside him, her chin resting on his arm as she watched; when he read medical books, she would hang onto him from behind, her face pressed against the back of his neck; in broad daylight, with clothes drying in the courtyard, she even dared to stand on her tiptoes and give him a kiss in front of the full sun, and after the kiss, she was still self-righteous.

Her gaze was different too.

Before, when she looked at him, her eyes held respect, fear, and hidden little thoughts.

Looking now, those eyes were filled to the brim with undisguised joy, so bright it was dazzling, and so certain as if she could see all the days to come.

If Qin Wangchuan said east, she no longer stubbornly went west.

It wasn't that she was afraid, but that she couldn't be bothered to be stubborn—anyway, whether going east or west, the two would always walk together.

Days passed like this, year after year.

The people in town changed batch after batch.

The winter Uncle Lu passed away was particularly cold. The banner of the noodle stall was taken down, and Qin Zhaoer asked for his old soup pot and placed it on the stove, saying it made her feel grounded to look at it.

Uncle Song's blacksmith shop closed down, and at the end, he left the heavy hammer he had used all his life to Qin Wangchuan.

On the day Jiang Zhuo was buried, Qin Wangchuan held the funeral ropes and didn't say a word the whole way.

Father Wen and Mother Wen also passed away one after another. After returning from the funeral, Qin Zhaoer lay in his arms and cried for half the night, and he just held her, patting her back over and over.

White hair began to appear at their temples as well.

Actually, it didn't have to be this way.

With their cultivation, let alone white hair, even keeping their appearance unchanged for a hundred years was just a matter of lifting a hand.

But neither of them used it.

To live as a human in this mortal world, one had to go through the whole process.