Chapter 20: No Distinction Between Us

Fu Juxing did not step forward immediately. This courtyard was thick with trees and shrubs, making it easy to hide oneself. All the more so at night—so long as he stayed silent, they would likely have no idea he was there.

Lin Wanbai rubbed her forehead, pulled her hand from his grasp, and stepped back. “Have you been working out?”

“Is that not allowed?”

“It is. Have you started dating someone?”

“No, I just wanted to get in shape so I’d look better in clothes.”

She glanced at him and couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, I’ll give you full marks for that reason.”

As she spoke, she began brushing dust from her clothes. Her nails were packed with dirt, which bothered her—she had a slight obsession with cleanliness and found it hard to tolerate her hands being so dirty.

Fu Yanchuan said, “I remember there’s a water tap over there. Let’s go wash up.”

She nodded, frowning, and followed him. Lin Wanbai washed her hands thoroughly while Fu Yanchuan stood beside her, hands in his pockets, his gaze drifting unconsciously from the top of her head to her toes.

“Is it true you’re keeping a man?”

She didn’t pause, her expression calm and unruffled. “That’s none of your concern.”

“There are quite a few rumors going around. If it’s true, you ought to keep a lower profile.”

She finished washing her hands, slow and deliberate, then stood upright and wiped her wet hands on Fu Yanchuan’s clothes. He instantly caught her wrist. “Don’t, I have a handkerchief.”

He stuffed the handkerchief he’d prepared into her hand. Lin Wanbai gave up, unfolded the cloth, and wiped her hands carefully. “Big brother, are you here to lecture me, or are you just unwilling to let go?”

She was well aware of his feelings and, knowing his character, was sure he’d never harbor inappropriate thoughts toward a married woman. Even if he did, he would never let it show.

Fu Yanchuan gave a soft laugh. “Didn’t you say you liked me back then?”

“That was then; this is now. Who decided that liking someone means you have to like them your whole life? No one can guarantee that. Otherwise, why would there be affairs, divorces, or mistresses?”

“Marriage means responsibility and self-restraint.”

“If you have the time to worry about me, you should worry about yourself. Get married soon so people won’t keep saying you’re hung up on me and blaming me for it.” She dried her hands, shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket, and was about to continue when she noticed a shadow flicker in the distance.

Fu Yanchuan was about to speak, but she clapped a hand over his mouth. Her palm was icy cold, carrying the faint scent of perfume. He was caught off guard and didn’t pull away.

Lin Wanbai fixed her gaze in that direction. After a long moment, she dashed over swiftly. In a few steps, she reached the spot and found Fu Juxing standing behind a cypress tree.

Fu Juxing didn’t react much—he wasn’t startled or flustered at all. He simply offered her a faint smile and said nothing.

Fu Yanchuan soon caught up. Seeing Fu Juxing there, he was a little surprised. “When did you get here? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Lin Wanbai laughed. “Maybe he was afraid of disturbing us, so he sneaked off to hide.”

Fu Yanchuan was about to explain, but then thought better of it. Perhaps Fu Juxing had been standing here for a long time. Besides, there was nothing between him and Lin Wanbai—those who are clear need not explain themselves. Any explanation would only make things seem suspicious.

Fu Juxing stepped out from behind the flowerbed. “No, I was just picking something up.”

Lin Wanbai didn’t call him out on his lie.

What nonsense.

Fu Yanchuan sensed there was something off between the two and made up an excuse to leave.

Lin Wanbai folded her arms and demanded, “What were you picking up?”

“Something I dropped.”

“What was it?” She was determined to get to the bottom of it.

But Fu Juxing didn’t answer. Instead, he changed the subject. “Xiao Jing said you got lost, so I came to look for you. I was worried you’d be afraid. The dishes still aren’t done, so I have to get back. Come with me. They’re elders, after all—we shouldn’t neglect them.”

“Aren’t there servants at home? Why are you washing dishes? Are you out of your mind?”

He just smiled, unbothered. Of course, he could rebel, but after all these years in this family, he knew that the best response was not to resist wildly out of anger.

After a moment, he took her hand, coaxing gently, “Are you hungry? I asked the servants to make your favorite dishes just for you. If we go back now, they’ll still be hot.”

Lin Wanbai let out a breath and nodded.

The two of them walked back hand in hand. His palm was thick and calloused, rough from years of hard work. Her fingers brushed over the calluses, and she felt a pang of heartache. Frowning, she looked at him. “You’re not a servant here. You don’t have to do these things. You can stand up for yourself. You’re my husband now—why should Jiang Shuzhi order you around?”

He squeezed her hand. “You shouldn’t call your elders by name.”

“If she doesn’t act like an elder, she can’t expect respect.”

“Xiaobai.”

Lin Wanbai snorted. “Don’t expect me to respect her in my heart, that’s all!”

Back at the main house, Lin Wanbai first went to greet the elders in the hall, then went to the kitchen to eat.

Entering the kitchen, she found a mountain of dirty dishes—only half had been washed. Fu Juxing had put his apron back on and was washing them alone, with no one else around. The servants were nowhere to be seen.

Glancing back toward the hall, she saw the others laughing and chatting, the picture of familial harmony. Anger bubbled up inside her—she almost wanted to throw the dirty dishwater over their heads. But she held back. Instead, she took another apron, went to Fu Juxing’s side, took the dishes from his hands, rinsed them clean, dried them with a towel, and set them aside.

She didn’t care for the rules, and though Jiang Shuzhi couldn’t do much to her, she could always vent her anger at Fu Juxing instead.

Fu Juxing looked at her and tried to stop her. “Don’t make trouble.”

“Who’s making trouble? We’re husband and wife. If you’re working, I should help. There’s no dividing things between us. Besides, I’d rather do dishes here than sit in there chatting with them.”

She brushed his hand aside and, taking his place, let him stand by and help.