Chapter 8: The Seed Money for Our Little Family

Entering the room, Jiang Mi pinched her nose at the strong smell of alcohol on him and said, "Go wash up."

Wen Zongfu raised an eyebrow. "You’re really demanding."

Though he grumbled, he took a towel and headed downstairs.

The Wen family truly lived well for city standards. Their two-story white house wasn’t very large; Mr. and Mrs. Wen lived downstairs, while upstairs had two rooms—a master bedroom and a guest room.

That afternoon, Jiang Mi went downstairs to the bathroom to wash up. The Wen household had solar-heated water, so the hot water was plentiful.

The most tangible benefit of this marriage was the obvious improvement in living conditions.

However, Jiang Mi had lived in a villa in her past life, so the Wen family couldn’t see any trace of a country girl unfamiliar with the city in her demeanor.

When Wen Zongfu finished washing and came back upstairs, he found Jiang Mi already dressed in a red nightdress, sitting cross-legged on the bed, seriously organizing a pile of red envelopes in front of her.

Without looking up, she said, “Mom just brought up all the wedding gifts collected today, plus the lists from your friends and my family’s gifts. We’ll accept these and then return the favors later.”

“I won’t waste this money,” she continued, “and with the three hundred yuan dowry from my family and thirty from my brother, plus the gift money, we have over twelve hundred yuan total. Let’s consider it startup capital for our little household. If you need money, just tell me.”

Leaning leisurely against the doorframe, Wen Zongfu watched her count with great interest. Even her phrase "little household" eased much of his afternoon’s irritability.

Seeing he didn’t respond, Jiang Mi finally dared to look up at him.

He wore a tank top and shorts, his damp hair tousled but casually brushed back, revealing a handsome face.

Blinking, she steadied herself not to be distracted by his looks, cleared her throat, and asked, “Do you have any objections?”

“No,” he chuckled softly. “It’s your decision.”

The money was hers; he never intended to take it back or interfere with how she used it.

Jiang Mi was quite satisfied to hear this. Having someone reasonable to consult eased her worries about this new marriage.

Still, his appearance that afternoon was a bit intimidating; he seemed to have a bad temper. Jiang Mi felt she needed to test him further. If he lost his temper with her or was violent, nothing could be salvaged.

She stood up and carefully placed the counted money into her dowry chest, all under his watchful eyes, showing great openness.

Then she took her snow cream from the chest and went to the old-fashioned washbasin beside him to wash her hands. After handling the money, her hands felt dirty. Once clean, she carefully applied the cream.

Wen Zongfu watched silently and suddenly commented, “Very particular.”

Jiang Mi snorted and went to the wardrobe to take out a quilt. “It’s our wedding night; it’s not proper to sleep in separate rooms. My parents would disapprove. Let’s compromise—one quilt each.”

She lay down calmly where she had settled, pulled the quilt over herself, and didn’t forget to say, “Turn off the light, please.”

Wen Zongfu almost laughed in disbelief—this woman was something else!

Grinding his teeth, he obeyed, switching off the light, then lay down on the other side. His body gave off heat, so he didn’t bother with a quilt. In the darkness, a faint fragrance drifted over.

He couldn’t tell if it was from the cream she applied or her natural scent, but it was pleasant.

Wen Zongfu was a straightforward man. On his wedding night, with his delicate new wife beside him, it would be a lie to say he had no thoughts. But she had been so firm earlier that if he made a move now, it would seem inhuman.

He felt stifled and restless, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

Jiang Mi couldn’t bear it either and opened her eyes. She wasn’t heartless; lying next to a stranger and falling asleep easily was frightening.

But since he kept tossing and turning, she couldn’t pretend to be asleep anymore.

Softly, she called, “Wen Zongfu.”

He stiffened at her voice. “Hmm?”

“You’re making too much noise; I can’t sleep.”

...

“Fine, I won’t move then.” He sighed in exasperation. Was she really a woman? Which man could sleep calmly on his wedding night?

Did she think he was incapable?

The more he thought about it, the grimmer his expression grew. Just as he was about to get up and go outside for some fresh air, he suddenly felt a pair of cautious hands reaching over to his side, gently grasping his.

“Sleep. I’m trying to adjust too.”

That soft, tender voice completely dissolved his irritation and the resentment sparked by her words earlier that afternoon.

He suddenly realized she was just an eighteen-year-old girl, marrying for the first time. What was there to argue about?