The morning after their wedding, Qingyan, sore all over and weak, clung dependently to the man. With his fair and fragrant fingers, he delicately touched his scarred face.
Qiu Henian stiffened all over, dodging as he turned his face away.
“You should wash your face first…”
Qingyan softly lay on him, his breath fragrant like orchids, “I want my husband to wipe it for me.”
Qiu Henian heard that the pitiful young husband, who dared not speak loudly and trembled at the sight of strangers, was arguing loudly over the fence with the neighbors.
“You must have lacked great virtue in your past life to marry such a useless ugly man!”
“Fuck your dad’s bullshit, your man is useless! My man does it seven times a night, I’m so damn happy!”
Bang!
Qiu Henian stumbled and fell, crashing through the gate.
Qingyan turned to look, guilt written all over his face.
Qiu Henian strode over, picked up his husband, and walked back into the house.
Qingyan was uneasy, “What are you doing?”
Qiu Henian replied, “Going back inside to do it seven times a night, but it’s too late and there’s not enough time.”
Qingyan: “…”
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