◎The Great Harmony of Life◎
Feng Man and Cheng Lang had been married for several months, and they had been engaging in the great harmony of life on the bed for quite some time.
The man, who clearly lacked experience, relied entirely on his robust stamina and natural instincts to bring her pleasure. Amid his dominant and forceful approach lurked a hint of tenderness, and Feng Man was fairly satisfied.
It was just that Cheng Lang’s stamina was occasionally too overwhelming, leaving her somewhat drained. His relentless thrusts carried a force that nearly made her unable to suppress her gasps and moans…
Until tonight, when Feng Man sensed something off.
Cheng Lang had changed. When his long fingers touched her body, Feng Man tensed up all over. Amid the varying rhythms of fast and slow, she found it unbearable, and soft, low whimpers escaped her red lips as she struggled to steady her breathing.
He had never teased her like this before—it felt deliberate, yet also like an unintentional shift in tempo, leaving her hanging in agonizing suspense.
His distinctly jointed fingers slowly withdrew, and Feng Man let out a long breath. She half-sat up, trying to see the expression on the man’s face, and asked what was wrong with him today. But she caught a glimpse of Cheng Lang’s stern features before he lowered his head, leaving only the top of his short, jet-black hair facing her.
Feng Man’s soft whimpers instantly turned into low pants laced with a faint sob, her eyes widening in near disbelief.
Cheng Lang’s lips and tongue were as nimble and powerful as his fingers, even softer, reaching deeper still.
Feng Man collapsed heavily back onto the bed, her hands clutching the sheets beneath her in desperation. The once-smooth wedding quilt wrinkled in an instant, the lifelike peony flowers embroidered with fine thread losing their vibrancy as they were crushed in her palms.
In Cheng Lang’s ears rang the tormenting coquettish moans and pants. The methods from the pictorial seemed somewhat effective—those low moans carried a hint of unbearable pleasure she had never shown before.
Feng Man’s voice became the best encouragement for his studies, rewarding Cheng Lang, this rare diligent student.
That night, the top student Cheng Lang presented his wife with the results of his first stage of learning. Amid her flushed cheeks and dazed, unfocused gaze, he received the greatest affirmation.
Feng Man was so exhausted she didn’t even want to move a finger. Her whole body was slick with sweat, as if freshly fished from water, and she let the man wipe her down with a warm, damp towel.
As overwhelming sleepiness washed over her, the question that flashed in Feng Man’s mind was, how did this man suddenly learn so many tricks? His techniques were astonishing!
Over the next few days, Feng Man found no answers. She assumed the man had figured it out on his own—his skills had upgraded, his patience had improved. He was no longer as reckless as at the beginning. Every time, his gaze deepened as if peering right through her, “tormenting” her until her waist and legs ached. It wasn’t until her period arrived on Wednesday that they paused the great harmony of life.
……
After finishing overtime at night, Feng Man started her day job again.
From Monday to Friday, Feng’s business was brisk. Feng Man only oversaw the core sauce and ratios; everything else could be handled by her cousin-in-law and Sister Qiumei.
The three worked in perfect harmony. Once the midday food was prepared and lunch was settled, Feng Man watched as the two pushed carts of food to the stalls for sale. She then turned to change clothes inside.
A chilly early winter wind whistled. Feng Man had bought a goose-yellow trench coat a few days earlier—a long style from Port City. Paired with the fitted white thin sweater underneath, it subtly accentuated her graceful curves, half-hidden and half-revealed.
Her jet-black long hair cascaded over the trench coat. Feng Man admired herself in the mirror, twirling the soft ends around her slender fingers. She was somewhat tired of her longstanding straight hair.
Thump thump thump.
A sudden knock interrupted Feng Man’s thoughts. She looked up to see the man who had been astonishing lately—dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, standing tall at the doorframe, tapping on the wooden door.
“Shall we head out?” The man’s lips curved into an ambiguous half-smile.
Feng Man instantly recalled last night. Pretending to be calm, she nodded, grabbed the brown leather bag hanging on the rack, and turned with a graceful sweep of her trench coat hem. Together with Cheng Lang, she headed out to the Department Store to pick out meeting gifts for his master.
Along the way, Feng Man had plenty on her mind, but since it involved unhealthy nighttime matters, she couldn’t very well ask outright. Still, it itched at her heart like cat claws.
Could Cheng Lang have truly had a sudden breakthrough in bed through sheer instinct?
Feng Man’s mind brimmed with unresolved lewd thoughts, while Cheng Lang beside her remained as calmly composed as ever. He only glanced at his wife’s expression with the corner of his eye, unlike last time when she had rolled her eyes at him.
She must have been thoroughly satisfied.
Now it seemed studying really worked—knowledge truly changed one’s fate.
The two arrived at the Department Store near the Mine District. Feng Man shoved her lewd thoughts aside and focused on selecting meeting gifts for Cheng Lang’s enigmatic master—the antagonist bigshot from the book.
“What tea does your master like?” Feng Man naturally probed Cheng Lang for real intel.
“He’s not picky about that. Any tea will do,” Cheng Lang answered truthfully.
Feng Man tsked lightly, unsatisfied with his response, and asked again, “Does he like smoking or drinking, then?”
“No smoking, but he loves drinking.”
“Then let’s get a bottle of baijiu. Wonder if we can find Maotai.” For the benefactor who had promoted Cheng Lang firsthand, they naturally needed thoughtful meeting gifts.
But as soon as she said it, Cheng Lang stopped her. “He doesn’t like expensive liquor. Instead, he prefers the cheap stuff from roadside breweries—a few jiao per jug.”
“Ah!” Feng Man nearly called him eccentric but quickly changed her tune. “Your master really doesn’t stand on ceremony.”
Cheng Lang: “…”
After careful selection, Feng Man prepared a thick winter coat for the old man, a tin of premium Pu’er tea, still settled on a bottle of Maotai, and additionally got a jug of Special Brew Liquor from a roadside brewery.
Gifts showed sincerity and thoughtfulness—this covered the bases.
Cheng Lang’s master’s train arrived in five days. As bosses both, they had ample time. With the gifts ready, Feng Man seized the chance to solve her hair dilemma from earlier. She simply went to a roadside salon for a perm.
Following the Port City female star poster at the salon entrance, Feng Man got big wavy curls. Her once-sleek straight hair transformed into beautifully undulating waves, exuding a myriad of charms with every ripple.
“Does it look good?” Feng Man was fairly satisfied with the 1988 perm quality—close to the poster. She lightly stroked it with slender fingers and smiled at Cheng Lang, asking how it was.
The man’s eyes deepened, his dark gaze reflecting the woman’s radiant face, even more gorgeous beneath the seaweed-like cascading curls.
“Good-looking,” Cheng Lang’s voice came out slightly hoarse.
“I think so too!” With her new hairstyle, Feng Man’s shopping itch flared up again. While strolling, she spotted the Department Store’s new ladies’ winter clothes.
Items that once required foreign exchange coupons were now, after years of reform and opening up, accessible in everyday life.
Feng Man handed her trench coat to Cheng Lang and directly tried on the new coats and padded jackets.
The light brown coat had sharp tailoring and a fluid silhouette. With her height and long legs, Feng Man could carry even overpowering heights, highlighting her beauty and stature—in perfect harmony with her fresh curls.
Fashion was said to be cyclical. Feng Man touched the exquisitely soft cashmere coat; from color and cut to texture, one could believe it came from decades later.
Having fallen for the coat at first sight, Feng Man turned her gaze to the padded jackets. Old-style ones were bulky and unflattering; after a couple years, the cotton inside clumped and hardened, ruining insulation.
Now things were different—styles were nice, even hinting at waists, avoiding the barrel or sack look. Colors abounded: black, white, red, blue, yellow.
Feng Man picked a striking red one, spun around to face Cheng Lang. “Does this color look good?”
Cheng Lang instinctively saw pure white and pure red before him. Her snow-white skin gleamed even fairer against the red.
As his throat tightened and he was about to speak, a quarrel from nearby interrupted their conversation.
Feng Man reacted faster than Cheng Lang. Recognizing the familiar voice, she instantly perked up like someone spotting drama, even tugging Cheng Lang’s sleeve and winking at him. “Isn’t that You Jianyuan? He has times when he gets shut down too~”
Cheng Lang glanced briefly at the man and woman a few meters away, uninterested, and retracted his gaze. It landed instead on Feng Man’s face, absorbed in the gossip.
Her flawless oval face was pristine white and tender. Her lovely brows and eyes brightened with the overheard argument, her curled lashes fluttering like butterfly wings. Her plump, glistening red lips parted, her words seemingly laced with fragrance.
“You’re watching the drama! Why look at me?” Feng Man noticed the man beside her wasn’t focused on the gossip and tried to pull him back on track.
“What’s so interesting about them?” Cheng Lang turned his head obediently at his wife’s urging, though his tone dripped disdain.
In the ladies’ innerwear area ahead, You Jianyuan fawned over Tong Jiayu—now offering to carry her bag, now picking clothes for her—only to be repeatedly rebuffed.
The young man and woman bickered back and forth, neither yielding.
Feng Man only knew You Jianyuan, not the pretty young woman beside him. She immediately poked Cheng Lang’s arm, feeling solid muscle. “Who’s that comrade? She can even give You Jianyuan the cold shoulder.”
Talk about impressive.
“Tong Jiayu, daughter of the Liberation Mine District mine chief,” Cheng Lang said in a low, even voice like a monotone piano note.
Tong Jiayu—that name rang a bell. Feng Man felt like she’d heard or seen it somewhere.
“Oh!” Feng Man suddenly remembered, her almond eyes sparkling with excitement at the gossip involving her own husband. “The Tong lady Xiaoshan mentioned who keeps buying him snacks to ask about you?”
The man mentally giving his nephew a good beating: “…”
Cheng Lang cleared his throat, firmly distancing himself. “One or two messing around has nothing to do with me. I’m not close to her.”
Feng Man could naturally see Cheng Lang’s seriousness and keep-away vibe. If she lacked even this much faith in her husband after their time together, she’d have done so in vain.
Still, teasing was in order.
Patting his arm, Feng Man praised, “Not bad, Comrade Cheng Lang. Even such a flower-like beauty pursuing you leaves you unmoved. Looks like you’re truly honoring that Baby Betrothal promise.”
Hearing “Baby Betrothal,” Cheng Lang choked again.
The argument ahead continued in his ears, even mentioning marriage.
You Jianyuan knew Tong Jiayu liked Cheng Lang. Seeing her coldness toward him now, he cursed inwardly and sneered outright. “Tong Jiayu, your dad and my second uncle are already discussing our marriage. You’d best face reality.”
Tong Jiayu had transferred out of the Mine District two months ago on her own initiative, only to return and face an arranged marriage from her own father. Naturally unwilling, she shot back, “You Jianyuan, it’s the era of free love now. What my dad says doesn’t count.”
“Are you still hung up on Cheng Lang?” You Jianyuan knew she was his best marriage prospect—young, pretty, good family, and her Tong family could boost him too.
But she liked Cheng Lang, which infuriated him.
“He’s married now. Why would I be hung up on him?” Tong Jiayu fumed.
You Jianyuan chuckled lightly, face turning in an instant. “Good then. What’s there to be hung up on about Cheng Lang?”
Feng Man hadn’t expected these two to be linking up—gossip right outside the door always invigorated the spirits. But Tong Jiayu, such a fresh flower, getting stuck with cow dung like that?