Chapter 112: Carry You on My Back

Lu Yan pursed his lips. “I had Su Yang take him home to kneel.”

Shen Qingyi struggled to sit up from his arms, her voice trembling with worry. “He was already terrified enough just now. If you do this…”

She understood Lu Yan’s intent. At that moment, she had been so frightened her soul had fled, unable to focus on her own safety. Yet she had raised An’an from infancy herself, and had never once disciplined her son.

“Doing wrong requires punishment to help him remember it,” Lu Yan said in front of her, though his tone lacked conviction.

After all, An’an was hers to raise and her to protect with her life.

Shen Qingyi stayed silent. Emotionally she hesitated, but rationally she agreed with Lu Yan’s reasoning.

Lu Yan noticed his wife had not spoken and spoke softly, “Does your body feel uncomfortable anywhere?”

“A little sore, but not severe.” Shen Qingyi answered, then asked, “You carried me up?”

Though dizzy, she had not been unconscious.

Lu Yan nodded. “Mm.”

He helped her lie back down. “If you feel uncomfortable, rest here. I’ll go see An’an later.”

Doctor Zhao spoke up. “Comrade Shen Qingyi, rest a little longer and you’ll be able to go home.”

“Good. Thank you, Doctor Zhao.” Shen Qingyi replied politely.

Doctor Zhao smiled. “You should thank your husband instead. If not for his quick thinking and steady hands, I wonder what state you’d be in right now.”

Shen Qingyi glanced at Lu Yan, her gaze soft and intricate. At that exact moment, Lu Yan looked up at her. Their eyes met, and Shen Qingyi’s body gave a faint start. Only then did she realize his large palm was holding hers tightly.

She tried to pull away gently, but Lu Yan showed no sign of releasing her.

Meeting his gaze again, she heard him ask the doctor, “What can she eat for dinner?”

The doctor had not expected the boy to be so thoughtful. “Porridge, perhaps.”

Shen Qingyi looked around. “Lu Yan, have you seen my bag?”

Lu Yan released her hand and turned, retrieving the bag from behind and handing it to her. Shen Qingyi opened it and found the money and shoe pads still inside. Relief washed over her. She had fallen into that pit, yet her clothes showed only dust, no visible mud. Her hands and feet were clean, but the bag’s surface bore traces of wiping with water, a detail that made her realize how careful Lu Yan had been.

He had been so attentive to her.

She opened the bag fully, the contents reassuring her completely.

They sat for a while longer. Lu Yan glanced at his watch, then sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from her. “Time’s up. I’ll carry you back.”

Shen Qingyi had rested enough; her strength had nearly returned. “You must be tired too. I can walk on my own. Just steady me if needed.”

Lu Yan did not move. “Get on.”

His voice was gentle, yet unmistakable.

Shen Qingyi hesitated, then sat up and circled his neck with her arms. Lu Yan rose, sliding one arm beneath her knees to support her back as he carried her steadily against his broad, firm shoulders. The sensation of his solid frame beneath her cheek sent a wave of unfamiliar warmth and safety through her.

He did not smoke, did not drink, and carried only the faintest trace of his own scent. Yet Shen Qingyi could still sense that clean, almost imperceptible aroma, pure and uniquely his.

She recalled the past: he sitting beside her father in a washed-out light blue shirt, his pale skin, refined features, and focused eyes analyzing data. His lips curved slightly upward, every movement graceful as a painting—fresh after rain, calm lake under autumn moon.

At that time she had wondered why those girls, knowing he had a partner, still shamelessly tried to catch his attention.

He had always been distant with her. Once, when her father was away, he handed her math papers over. “Two problems—explain them to her. I must attend a meeting.”

It had been the day she scored ninety on her math test, her best yet.

Her father never praised or criticized her performance, only selected her mistakes to explain. This time was no different.

Lu Yan reviewed the papers, surprised by the results. Shen Qingyi asked what was wrong.

His long fingers picked up a pen and, from a new angle, he outlined a five-step solution—not for the errors on the test, but for the question he himself had created.

“Understand the logical approach to this foundational problem, then apply it to correct the rest.”

His handwriting was bold and forceful, each stroke radiating strength, utterly unlike the soft-spoken man who had once held her heart so carefully.

Shen Qingyi stared at the problem, then shook her head helplessly.

Lu Yan sighed. “Still not following?”

“Yes!”

He frowned, re-explaining in a different way, breaking it into steps while demonstrating calculations on the spot.

When Shen Qingyi still did not understand, she insisted, “You should explain the questions on the test paper, like my father.”

Lu Yan’s expression darkened instantly.

Lu Yan finally understood why the professor could teach so much better, why…

The thought made him look ready to spit blood. Shen Qingyi could not help but laugh.

Lu Yan felt his wife’s weight on his back—light, soft, warm. The memory of the first time he had held her in his arms made his ears burn. Hearing her laughter, he feared she had noticed his thoughts and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Shen Qingyi suddenly felt curious what thoughts had crossed his mind at that moment. “I was remembering something from before. It struck me as rather amusing.”

Lu Yan relaxed. “What?”

She told him about that day he had taught her. “Did you think I was stupid back then?”

Lu Yan pressed his lips together. “No. I simply felt the professor’s duty was difficult. Thank you for giving birth to An’an.”

Silence fell behind him.

Lu Yan grew uneasy. He had used such a gentle way to describe the truth; surely she had not taken offense?

Besides, he was genuinely grateful his wife had given him a child. Otherwise, he would have to teach like the professor.

Of course Shen Qingyi had heard him.

“You… are you angry?” he asked again.

Shen Qingyi moved her head from his shoulder. “No.”

She was not one to hold a grudge.

Lu Yan did not want her to think he was lying, nor did he want her to feel hurt.

“How long will you punish An’an?” she changed the subject.

Lu Yan felt her cheek return to rest against his shoulder as they walked slowly. “Depends on his attitude.”

He knew his son’s nature well. A single reminder would suffice. This time, a heavier punishment would leave a lasting mark. Yet he would not announce the punishment would end the moment they returned home; otherwise his wife would insist he hurry.

Shen Qingyi did not know his hidden thoughts.

Lu Yan carried her with light, steady steps. The sunset slanted toward the west, its lingering glow painting their shadows long and golden.