C13 I Believe You

Qian Duojing sat in the chair, her gaze fixed on him in a daze, somehow soothed by his presence.

She watched as Xue Zhengqing, now tidied up, approached her and said, "You take the bed tonight. I'll make do on the floor."

By the end of October, the days retained a coolness, but the nights carried a bone-chilling cold. Qian Duojing glanced at the lone blanket on the bed, then at Xue Zhengqing's knuckles, skin broken from exertion, and the specks of blood on his white shirt, feeling a pang of compassion.

Standing up, she said, "I'll go ask the boss for some iodine to clean your wounds. Do you have a change of clothes? Maybe you should take off what you're wearing so I can wash it. If the blood sets, it'll be harder to clean."

Without any awkwardness, Xue Zhengqing began to strip off his clothes in front of her.

Qian Duojing suddenly realized her own words had backed her into a corner. Shang Wu had booked them a room with a large bed, and in such a modest establishment, there was nowhere to hide—not in the bathroom nor the toilet. Xue Zhengqing sat on the bed, methodically unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his lean, muscular torso.

Feeling the air grow uncomfortably warm, Qian Duojing quickly averted her gaze from Xue Zhengqing, who was nearly undressed.

He handed her his shirt, and noticing her face flushed in the dim light, deliberately avoiding looking at him, he couldn't resist the urge to get a closer look at her endearing expression. He purposefully moved closer to hand her the shirt.

As Qian Duojing's eyes followed his hand to the shirt, she caught sight of his bare upper body and, too embarrassed to look closely, snatched the shirt and hurried out.

Downstairs, she asked the innkeeper, "Excuse me, where can I wash some clothes? I need to clean a shirt."

"There's a washbasin in the backyard," he replied.

Qian Duojing found a small stool in the backyard and sat on the bluestone slab by the well, meticulously scrubbing the blood from the shirt. Once clean, she intended to hang it on the windowsill to dry, but as she ascended the stairs, she was met with the sound of a commotion in the lobby.

She stealthily peered around the corner of the staircase and spotted a group of police officers making their way in. They slapped the counter and bellowed, "Is there someone named Xue Zhengqing staying here?!"

Qian Duojing quickly grabbed her clothes and dashed upstairs.

The moment she entered the room, she collided with Xue Zhengqing, their skin touching.

Without a moment's concern for modesty, Qian Duojing spun around and slammed the door shut.

"Xue Zhengqing, the cops are downstairs. They're definitely here for us. Wu Guang is the factory director's son, and he won't let being beaten up slide just like that."

Xue Zhengqing chuckled and replied, "Have you forgotten who I am? He's the factory director's son, but I'm Boss Xue's son. There's nothing to fear."

Qian Duojing, frantic, insisted, "But even a mighty dragon can't crush a local serpent. We need to get out of here."

She spread out her clothes, which she had only dampened slightly at the collar since she feared they wouldn't dry overnight. They were still wearable, and she hastily helped Xue Zhengqing into his shirt, fastening the buttons as she bowed her head.

Pinned against the door by Xue Zhengqing, she was enclosed within his arms as he propped himself against the door. He gazed down at her delicate fingertips as they worked his buttons, and at the glimpse of her pale nape, his thoughts wandered to mischief, but he restrained himself and remained still.

No sooner had she finished buttoning his shirt than a ruckus erupted from the corridor outside, accompanied by disordered footsteps. Near tears and overwhelmed with panic, Qian Duojing's eyes reddened as she clung to Xue Zhengqing, pleading, "What are we going to do, Xue Zhengqing? They're going to take us away."

Xue Zhengqing, hearing her soft, tearful voice, resolved not to let her be troubled by the police any longer that night. Since he had no identification on him, even calling the local authority to vouch for his identity would inevitably lead to taking Qian Duojing to the police station.

Glancing at the window, Xue Zhengqing cradled his wife in his arms and approached it to assess the situation. Their second-floor room wasn't too high, and below the window, a pile of sandbags and goods in the alley promised a cushioned escape.

"Do you trust me?"

Qian Duojing had been frantic in his embrace, but as she lifted her head and locked eyes with him, a wave of calm washed over her. In these times, when so many harbored ill will towards her, Xue Zhengqing had been her steadfast protector.

"I trust you."