36: Rehearsal turmoil, heart racing

The air in the room seemed to have been sucked dry by those words; it was so quiet that a pin drop would have sounded like heavy bass.

Wang Fugui remained frozen with his wrist still caught, looking like a wooden post that had its pressure points struck. His eyes were wide and round, his mouth slightly agape, and two unintelligible sounds of "ah-ba ah-ba" escaped his throat.

No one is allowed to touch except her?

Those words echoed wildly inside his brain—which was packed with cement and bricks—leaving him dizzy and disoriented.

Lin Xiaocao's face was already flushed crimson, like a ripe tomato, and even her slender white neck was tinged with pink. Only after shouting that out did she realize what an incredible thing she had said.

A wave of shame surged up belatedly, nearly drowning her.

"I meant..." she stammered, trying to patch things up. Her gaze darted around, not daring to look at Wang Fugui's large face. "You... you have to save your strength for work! Carrying gas tanks... is that even a job for a human?!"

This excuse was so lame that even she didn't believe it.

Wang Fugui, however, seemed to have caught a lifeline. He yanked his hand back, scratched the back of his head, and gave a couple of silly laughs.

"Right! Right! I gotta save my strength for work! I won't carry them! That old— Aunt Zhao wants to take advantage of me? No way!"

The two of them tacitly moved past that moment, but the sticky atmosphere in the room simply wouldn't dissipate.

Before they could even catch their breath, there was another knock on the Utility room door.

Aunt Zhao's shrill voice exploded from outside.

"Open up! I've brought your performance costumes! The factory spent a fortune renting these; you won't be able to afford the compensation if you ruin them!"

Lin Xiaocao took a deep breath and glared fiercely at Wang Fugui, a warning for him to "behave."

Wang Fugui trotted over eagerly to open the door.

Several sets of gaudy, colorful clothes were tossed inside. They were styles popular decades ago, made of Dacron fabric, with colors so bright they were eyesores.

"One set for a man, one for a woman... Oh, wait, you're both men." Aunt Zhao stood at the door, casting a meaningful glance into the room. Her gaze lingered on Lin Xiaocao's flat chest for two seconds, and a sly smirk curled her lips. "This is the smallest size for men, a slim-fit style. It'll make you look sharp! The dress rehearsal is the day after tomorrow, so hurry up and try them on!"

With that, she waddled away, leaving the room filled with the smell of low-quality synthetic fibers.

Lin Xiaocao picked up the so-called "slim-fit men's outfit," and her face instantly turned pale.

It was a high-necked white Stretch Shirt, so thin it was translucent, and it had to be tucked into tight sequined pants. This kind of clothing would reveal the outline of chest muscles even on a flat-chested man, let alone her... no matter how thin she was, she still had a woman's body.

Wang Fugui was fiddling with his own bright red shirt when he turned and saw Lin Xiaocao staring blankly at the clothes, her whole body trembling slightly.

"What's wrong? Don't like the color?" Wang Fugui leaned in.

Lin Xiaocao suddenly balled up the clothes and stuffed them under the quilt, her voice tight.

"I'm not wearing it!"

"How can you not wear it? Aunt Zhao said if we don't, she'll dock half a month's pay..." Wang Fugui muttered instinctively, but seeing her eyes starting to redden again, he immediately changed his tune. "If you won't wear it, then you won't! At worst, I'll go smash all her gas tanks!"

Lin Xiaocao ignored him, grabbed the bundle of clothes, and ducked into the makeshift changing corner partitioned off with calendar paper.

A rustling sound followed.

Then came the sound of fabric tearing and suppressed, painful gasps.

Wang Fugui pricked up his ears, his brow gradually knitting into a knot.

Back in the village, he had seen young women who loved beauty cinching their waists; it sounded just like this, as if they were desperately strangling themselves.

"Ugh..."

A short cry of pain drifted out from behind the calendar paper.

Wang Fugui couldn't sit still any longer. He strode over, completely disregarding any boundaries between men and women, and yanked open the curtain.

The sight before him made his pupils contract.

Lin Xiaocao was wearing only a small camisole on her upper body. She held a roll of long white cloth strips and was desperately binding them around her chest. The strips had already dug into her flesh, forcibly flattening the originally full curves, and bruises were visible along the edges of her skin.

She was in so much pain that her forehead was covered in cold sweat and her lips were bitten white, yet she continued to wrap the cloth with force, turn after turn.

"Are you crazy?!"

Wang Fugui gave a low growl, grabbed her wrist, and roughly snatched the cloth strips away.

"Give it back!" Lin Xiaocao covered her chest in a panic and tried to grab the cloth strips. "If I don't wrap it tightly, I'll be exposed when I wear those clothes!"

"Then let it be exposed! At worst, we'll just quit!" Seeing the shocking marks from the binding, Wang Fugui felt a sharp sting in his heart, a pain so intense he wanted to kill someone. "If you keep binding yourself like this, do you even want your lungs? Are you trying to suffocate yourself?"

"What do you know!" Lin Xiaocao pushed him, tears welling in her eyes. "That's my business!"

"Now it's your brother's business!"

Wang Fugui's shout was full of vigor, leaving Lin Xiaocao stunned.

He roughly grabbed the slim-fit Stretch Shirt, shook it out, and measured the thin fabric with his large, fan-like hands.

"Take it off." He pointed at the camisole on Lin Xiaocao that looked like it was about to choke the life out of her.

Lin Xiaocao looked at him warily.

"I told you to loosen it!" Wang Fugui glared at her crossly. "Hand this outfit to me. I guarantee you'll be able to wear it comfortably tomorrow morning, and no one will be able to tell!"

"You?" Lin Xiaocao was full of suspicion.

Wang Fugui snorted and turned to pull a rusty tin box from a tattered cloth bag under the bed. Opening it, he revealed neatly arranged needles, thread, and even a thimble.

"My ragged pants and torn jackets were all sewn by me."

He sat cross-legged on the floor mat and, by the dim yellow light, picked up a tiny embroidery needle. Those large, calloused hands—capable of carrying two hundred pounds of cement—were incredibly steady at this moment.

He first ripped open the side seams of the Stretch Shirt with dazzlingly skillful movements. Then, he cut two strips of fabric in a similar color from his old work uniform and skillfully patched them in.

Wrapped in her quilt, Lin Xiaocao stared at him blankly.

Under the light, this rugged man kept his head down, focused as if he were carving a rare treasure. Occasionally, he would rub the needle against his scalp to lubricate it—a rustic gesture that nonetheless carried a comforting sense of everyday life.

Time passed minute by minute, and the sound of cicadas outside gradually faded.

Wang Fugui bit off the last thread, shook the garment in his hand, and a simple, honest smile appeared on his face.

"Try it."

Lin Xiaocao took the clothes and put them on somewhat hesitantly.

A miracle happened.

The clothes that had been suffocatingly tight now had several natural folds at the chest—extra space Wang Fugui had intentionally added. It hid her original curves while appearing loose and stylish, completely removing the need for desperate chest binding.

"How is it?" Wang Fugui looked like he was fishing for a compliment.

Feeling the fine stitches, another corner of the hard ice in Lin Xiaocao's heart quietly melted away.

"It's barely wearable." She turned her face away, but the corners of her mouth couldn't help but turn up... In the Rehearsal Hall, the crowd was bustling.

People from various workshops were gathered, making enough noise to lift the roof.

Lin Xiaocao stood in the corner of the choir, wearing her altered costume. Although the clothes didn't show off her figure, her overly delicate face was still as conspicuous as a firefly at night among the group of soot-covered workers.

The gazes of many male workers around her drifted over intentionally or otherwise.

"Is that Wang Fugui's younger brother? He looks like a broad."

"So pale, and that waist is so thin. Wonder what it would feel like to give it a squeeze."

A few vulgar remarks drifted into her ears.

Lin Xiaocao's spine stiffened, and her palms began to sweat. This feeling of being scrutinized like prey made her feel sick.

Just then, a tall shadow loomed over her.

Wang Fugui stood directly in front of her like a mobile iron tower. He didn't say a word, just crossed his arms, puffed out his cheeks, and glared back fiercely with his bell-like eyes.

His build and that look in his eyes made him look just like a mother hen protecting her chicks... no, a giant black bear.

Those malicious gazes instantly retracted... By the time rehearsal ended and they returned to the Utility room, it was already late at night.

That night, Lin Xiaocao didn't turn her back to Wang Fugui as she usually did.

With the lights off, the darkness amplified all their senses.

Just as Wang Fugui lay flat, a soft little body crawled into his quilt.

"Hey! This... this isn't right!" Wang Fugui's muscles tensed up, and his tongue tied in knots as he stammered.

"Cold."

Lin Xiaocao replied with only one word. Instead of retreating, she doubled down. She clung to him like an octopus, one leg resting over his, her cheek pressed against his burning chest, and her arms tightly encircling his thick waist.

Those two mounds, which had been bound by cloth strips but were still soft now, pressed unreservedly against his ribs through the thin fabric.

Wang Fugui's brain instantly short-circuited.

Boom—

He felt like he had become a pressure cooker on the verge of exploding.

That familiar, milky fragrance wafted into his nose. Her warm breath fanned against his collarbone, sending waves of numbing electricity through him.

"Don't move." Lin Xiaocao nuzzled into his embrace, finding a comfortable position, her voice soft and sweet. "Let me hold you for a while."

She wasn't seducing him; she was calling for help.

The greedy gazes from during the day and the fear of the upcoming performance made her feel that only in this bull-like embrace could she find a sliver of security.

Wang Fugui held his hands up like a surrendering prisoner.

He listened to the steady breathing coming from his chest and felt the person in his arms' reliance on him. Slowly, his stiff arms lowered, and he cautiously—as if touching something fragile—loosely wrapped them around her thin shoulders.

That night, Wang Fugui stayed awake until dawn, counting eighteen thousand sheep, yet he still couldn't suppress that restless heat.