The Delicate Darling with Her Rough Man

She was nineteen, which wasn’t actually that old.

Especially since Gu Jiaojiao had fair, delicate skin and was pretty and vivacious, a look that made her seem even younger.

Wang Xiuhua stared at Gu Jiaojiao’s dewy face, her own filled with envy. ”I’m not asking for much. I just hope my baby is born with skin as fair and delicate as Jiaojiao’s.”

Chen Xiaoli nodded. ”You’d really be blessed then. So many people would kill for skin like that.”

In the villages now, people could barely feed and clothe themselves, and sometimes even went hungry. There was simply no way to focus on nutrition, so most babies were born all wrinkly—neither plump nor pretty.

They were born looking like little red monkeys, and as they grew, they turned into dark little mud loaches.

There wasn’t a single child with such fair, delicate skin in the entire village.

”I’m so envious of Jiaojiao. That Leng Yuan really knows how to pamper his wife.”

She seemed to get more radiant by the day, a clear sign she was being meticulously cared for.

Gu Jiaojiao felt a little embarrassed by the teasing, but luckily, she was thick-skinned and didn’t let it show on her face in the slightest.

”Now, now, you two,” she said. ”I believe it when others say they envy me, but which of your husbands doesn’t dote on his wife? I’m the one who’s envious!”

And it was true.

When Chen Xiaoli was pregnant, Xu Chongfeng would work all day and then go hunting in the mountains after he finished, all just so she could have a few bites of meat to eat.

It was the same for Wang Xiuhua. Zhao Tiezhu wasn’t a man of many words, but he knew how to show he cared. When he heard that Wang Xiuhua had gotten into trouble, he had been worried sick.

The two women blushed at being teased.

Clearly, their skin wasn’t as thick as Gu Jiaojiao’s.

While the three of them were chatting happily at the Zhao family’s home, things were getting lively outside.

Xu Wenwan came out of her house with Yun Hao. They planned to head to the Educated Youth compound first to pay New Year’s visits to everyone, and Xu Wenwan immediately agreed.

’Li Fenggu from the Educated Youth compound will become a very powerful politician in the future,’ she thought. ’If I can get on his good side, it will be a huge advantage for me.’

Yun Hao had thought Xu Wenwan would be reluctant, so he was surprised she agreed so readily this time.

But they hadn’t gotten far when they saw a few aunties gathered ahead. Among them was a familiar figure—Aunt Chen, who had previously asked Yun Hao to write her New Year’s couplets.

Just as Xu Wenwan and Yun Hao were walking past, they happened to overhear someone ask Aunt Chen, ”Hey, what’s the deal with your house? The couplets you put up this year are so ugly.”

”Oh, you all haven’t heard? She had Yun Hao write her couplets this year.”

”Educated Youth Yun wrote them? Ah, no wonder they’re so ugly. I heard he charges one mao for a set. No wonder it’s so cheap—his skill is worlds apart from Leng Yuan’s.”

Most of these women couldn’t read, but when the couplets were pasted on the wall, anyone could tell which ones looked good and had a powerful presence, and which ones didn’t.

A neighboring auntie, who normally loved to compete with Aunt Chen, glanced at her own family’s couplets and immediately began to taunt her.

Aunt Chen was furious but couldn’t argue back.

Yun Hao’s calligraphy really couldn’t compare to Leng Yuan’s. She had saved a little money, but it had cost her a great deal of face.

After her neighbor left, Aunt Chen turned to the people around her and complained angrily, ”That Educated Youth Yun’s skill is just no match for Leng Yuan’s. If I’d known, I never would have asked him. He made me lose so much face.”

When had she ever lost out to her neighbor before? But this time, her couplets just couldn’t compare.

Yun Hao happened to walk up just in time to hear Aunt Chen’s words, and his face darkened.

’I can’t compare to Leng Yuan?’

’Impossible.’

Unconvinced, Yun Hao looked over and saw the two lines of neat calligraphy on the red couplets at Aunt Chen’s door. ’They look perfectly fine, no matter how you look at them,’ he thought.

Then he looked at the house next door. The calligraphy there was fluid and dynamic, like soaring dragons and dancing phoenixes. The brushstrokes were sharp yet flowed with a natural grace, forming a style all their own.

This was calligraphy on a master’s level.

And his own calligraphy, which he had considered quite good, looked like an absolute joke next to the one written by Leng Yuan.