After the divorce, he went on a motorcycle trip, and his ex-wife and daughter were filled with regre

As the sun began to set, the two men, carrying their spoils, returned to the courtyard of the old house that was about to be renovated.

When they stopped, they realized that their shoes, socks, and even trouser legs were covered in wet mud and grass clippings, making them filthy, from their wild frolicking on the grass by the river.

In the corner of the old house's courtyard, there is an old-fashioned hand-pumped well that has been around for many years.

Jiang Ye threw the fish into the basin and was about to walk over to press the water to wash the mud off his feet.

Unexpectedly, Han Qingru had already reached the well first.

She gripped the rusty iron handle and pressed it a few times with a "creaking" sound, and cool, clean well water instantly gushed out from the pipe.

"Come here and sit down."

Han Qingru pointed to a flat, clean bluestone slab in the middle of the courtyard and said to Jiang Ye.

Jiang Ye obediently walked over and sat down.

Han Qingru rolled up her sleeves, revealing her fair arms. She took an old plastic basin, filled it with about half a basin of well water, and then walked up to Jiang Ye, squatting down without any hesitation.

She didn't mind the mud on Jiang Ye's feet. Instead, she reached out and carefully washed the mud off his shoes and trousers with water. Then she took off his shoes and socks and pressed his feet against the edge of the basin.

The well water was slightly cool, but Han Qingru's soft palms were very warm.

She lowered her eyes, her thick eyelashes casting a small shadow in the setting sun. Her movements were gentle and careful, as she gently rubbed the dirt off Jiang Ye's feet, cleaning even the dirt between his toes, leaving nothing behind.

Jiang Ye lowered his head, quietly watching her focused profile and the strands of hair falling beside her ear.

The softest part of my heart felt as if it had been struck hard by something, and an indescribable warm current surged up and flowed to every part of my body.

This scene feels so familiar.

When he was a child, Jiang Ye was mischievous and often crawled and rolled in mud puddles, getting covered in mud.

Every time he came home, Han Qingru would do the same thing as now. While scolding him fiercely for being a mud monkey, she couldn't bear to hit him. She would boil water and gently and patiently squat down to wash his feet and hands.

Time seemed to overlap at this moment.

The little girl from ten years ago and the mature and charming woman before me have gradually become one.

Jiang Ye even held his breath, afraid of breaking this peaceful and beautiful moment.

He truly felt the gentleness and boundless tolerance that belonged only to him in Han Qingru's bones.

This feeling of being wholeheartedly favored and cherished is like a vintage wine, making Jiang Ye deeply intoxicated and unable to extricate himself.

. . .

After washing my feet, the afternoon sun became a bit lazy, shining warmly on me, making me yawn several times.

Under the eaves of the old house, there is a vintage bamboo recliner. Although it is somewhat worn and the edges of the bamboo strips are worn smooth, it looks very large and sturdy.

Han Qingru shook the water droplets off her hands, walked to the recliner, and sat down comfortably.

Jiang Ye poured out the dirty water from the basin and then sat down on the wooden high threshold next to the recliner.

A gentle breeze swept across the courtyard wall, carrying the fragrance of earth and the sweet scent of unknown wildflowers from afar. This is a scent you'd never find in the concrete jungle of the city.

On this quiet afternoon, with his most trusted person by his side, Jiang Ye's tense nerves completely relaxed.

He felt his eyelids getting heavier and heavier, as if they were filled with lead, and he couldn't open them no matter what he did.

Unbeknownst to him, Jiang Ye's head tilted slightly and naturally rested on Han Qingru's leg along the edge of the threshold, and he fell into a deep sleep.

Feeling the weight on her legs, Han Qingru's body stiffened slightly.

She looked down and saw that Jiang Ye had his eyes closed, his breathing was steady, and he was even snoring softly, clearly exhausted.

She didn't reach out to push him away, nor did she call out to wake him.

Instead, she carefully shifted her body, gently adjusted her posture, and tried to flatten her legs as much as possible so that Jiang Ye could lean back more comfortably.

Looking at Jiang Ye's face, which still held a hint of determination even in his sleep, Han Qingru's gaze softened considerably.

She slowly reached out, gently stroking Jiang Ye's soft hair as if soothing an obedient kitten. Her fingertips ran through his hair, her movements extremely gentle, as if afraid of disturbing his sweet dream.

In his sleep, Jiang Ye seemed to feel that familiar, reassuring touch.

In front of this dilapidated old house, in this remote town far from the hustle and bustle of the city, free from intrigue and backstabbing.

Jiang Ye felt an unprecedented sense of comfort and peace of mind.

He instinctively snuggled closer to Han Qingru, searching for the most comfortable position. His slightly furrowed brows completely relaxed, and a faint smile even lingered on his lips. He was sleeping soundly and sweetly.

He even had a dream.

I dreamt of the "Cloud Wasteland" that I had always kept hidden in my heart and longed for.

In my dream, there were no treacherous business battles, no troublesome family feuds or conflicts of interest.

It was just him and Han Qingru.

In this newly renovated courtyard, they planted all kinds of flowers. They worked from sunrise to sunset every day. Han Qingru would cook for him in the kitchen, while he would chop wood and feed the dog in the yard.

Simple, yet blissful.

. . . . .

It was evening.

The sun has set, leaving only a few streaks of brilliant sunset clouds on the horizon.

Jiang Ye finally woke up groggily. He rubbed his eyes, and as soon as he moved, he realized that he had been leaning against Han Qingru's legs the whole time.

He quickly straightened up.

Looking up, Han Qingru was still in the same position.

In order not to wake Jiang Ye, she sat in one position for several hours, and her legs had long since gone numb.

Seeing that Jiang Ye was awake, Han Qingru stopped what she was doing and said in a slightly annoyed tone, "Xiao Ye, you were sleeping so soundly, your drool was almost dripping onto my pants."

Upon hearing this, Jiang Ye quickly touched the corner of his mouth and found that there was no saliva, realizing that he had been tricked.

But looking at Han Qingru's numb legs, he felt a pang of guilt, yet also an overwhelming sense of warmth. He quickly knelt down and skillfully massaged Han Qingru's calves with both hands to improve blood circulation and reduce bruising.

. . . .

Night falls.

The town was rather quiet at night, but the open space at the entrance of the village was bustling with activity.

To celebrate this joyous occasion, the host family spent a lot of money to buy a truckload of fireworks and set them off in an open space.

"Whoosh—Bang!"

Colorful fireworks soared into the sky, bursting into bloom in the night sky and illuminating the originally dark town sky as bright as day.

Jiang Ye and Han Qingru stood side by side on a small hill not far away. The brilliant fireworks light, sometimes bright and sometimes dim, illuminated their faces as they stood side by side.

After watching a spectacular fireworks show, the two went to the host's house for dinner.

As they passed by the bride's house, they happened to see and hear a local ancient and unique custom called "crying before marriage".

Inside the main room, the bride, dressed in a red wedding gown, was weeping with her mother and sisters on the eve of her wedding.

Their weeping wasn't chaotic, but rather carried a unique rhythm as they sang ancient wedding laments.

The song was poignant and moving, filled with gratitude for the parents' nurturing, deep reluctance to leave her parents' home, and confusion and awe about entering the unknown life of her husband's family.

This pristine local culture, brimming with deep emotion, profoundly moved Jiang Ye and Han Qingru.

. . .