Chapter 143 A Historical Novel with a Paranoid Male Lead (2/2)

Liu Fang shuddered in fright and grabbed Zi Xi's sleeve.

"Comrade Liu, no need, I'm used to living alone. Aren't we supposed to be making dumplings at the educated youth settlement? If we don't go now, we'll miss it."

Zi Xi deftly unfolded the clothes and hung them on the bamboo pole to dry.

Liu Fang's face turned pale and then red, and she finally walked away dejectedly with her basket, muttering that the girl didn't know what was good for her.

Zi Xi looked at the scattered firewood on the ground and sighed softly.

She bent down and picked them up one by one, her fingertips tracing the neatly split ends, and carefully placed them in front of Ji Yanchen's door.

As she turned around, the moonlight shone through the crack in the door, illuminating a pair of hastily looking, evasive eyes, but she didn't see it.

Night was falling.

The kerosene lamp cast a flickering halo on the table as Zi Xi bent down to mend the torn hem of her clothes.

Suddenly, the window paper made a slight rustling sound, as if something was gently scraping it.

She looked up and saw a finger sticking out through the crack in the window frame, red from the cold, with wood shavings stuck in its nail.

The finger seemed to want to touch the window latch, but withdrew at the last second.

Zi Xi put down her needlework and abruptly pushed open the wooden window.

The moonlight, like a waterfall, instantly poured onto the frozen figure by the courtyard wall.

Ji Yanchen was like a frozen wild beast, his tattered cotton-padded coat fluttering in the night wind, revealing the thin inner garment underneath.

The bundle of freshly chopped firewood at his feet was stacked neatly, each piece of wood with a smooth, mirror-like surface.

"Ji Tong..."

As soon as she spoke, Ji Yanchen recoiled as if electrocuted. The crisp sound of her old cotton shoes snapping a dry branch was particularly jarring in the silence.

"Wait! Your hand..."

Zi Xi leaned half her body out of the window, but could only see his staggering back as he climbed over the low wall.

A muffled thud came from the darkness, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps fading into the distance.

The next morning, Zi Xi gasped when she lifted the covers.

Her bed was surrounded by piles of items, as if it had been used for a ritual sacrifice.

Wrapped in a faded red cloth were a dozen or so gold bars, each bearing fresh fingerprints; tightly bound banknotes with perfectly aligned edges; a small mountain of silver dollars, their edges gleaming from being rubbed; and on top of that, a rusty tin box, neatly arranged with her lost belongings: faded hair clips, a crookedly embroidered handkerchief, discarded letters…

Everything was cleaned spotlessly. At the bottom of the tin box was a yellowed note with crooked but forceful handwriting that seemed to penetrate the paper: "Don't go, I'll give you everything I have."

Zi Xi's fingers trembled violently.

She suddenly remembered the muffled thud from last night. It wasn't a fall; it was Ji Yanchen carrying the betrothal gifts back and forth in the dark.

The snail-like boy clumsily piled everything he had accumulated over the years of living like a lone island around her bedside.

In the courtyard, where the morning dew was still wet, a string of fresh footprints snaked from Zixi's window to the Ji family's ancestral home. The old house, rumored to hold hidden gold, stood with its gates wide open, empty except for a few tattered pieces of window paper rustling in the wind.

The rain drizzled all day.

Zi Xi stood in front of Ji Yanchen's house, holding an oilcloth umbrella. Water droplets from the edge of the umbrella formed a curtain.

Pushing open the door, a musty smell mixed with the bitter aroma of herbs hit me.

The room was pitch black, with only the dying embers in the stove casting a dark red glow.

"Comrade Ji?"

Her voice echoed in the empty room.

Suddenly, a loud crash startled the person in the corner as the iron basin was kicked over. Rapid breathing came from the corner, like a wounded animal enduring pain.

The moment the oil lamp was raised, Zi Xi's heart clenched.

Ji Yanchen huddled in the corner of the kang (a heated brick bed), his whole body burning red.

He hugged his knees tightly with both arms, his old cotton-padded coat soaked through and wrapped around his body, his white knuckles almost digging into his flesh.

Hearing the noise, he struggled to lift his head, his chapped lips moved, but no sound came out.

He had a high fever.

Zi Xi rushed over in three steps, and when she touched his forehead, she was so hot that she trembled.

Ji Yanchen recoiled as if startled, his back slamming against the earthen wall with a thud, sending a cloud of dust flying.

"No...it's dirty..."

His voice was so hoarse it was unrecognizable.