Un cœur pur dans un pot de jade

Chapitre 2

He writes very slowly, stroke by stroke, very gently, at a speed like a young girl, but the characters he writes are not delicate, but rather very vigorous.

How rare it is to find a wild man! Not only can he speak Chinese, but he can also write. I can't write those four complicated traditional Chinese characters on the ground, but I can recognize them.

"Are you alright?" I read the words and turned to look at him. He looked back at me with a deep and serious gaze, as if to say: Are you alright?

"I'm fine!"

So he wrote again: You don't like it that way.

Does he mean a forced kiss or a forced wipe of the mouth? I chuckled; either way, nobody would like it! But when it came to actually saying it, I pretended to be clueless: "You don't like that?"

The savage looked at me and stopped writing.

So I just pursed my lips and could only say, "Are you sure you're not mistaken? I don't know you."

He remained silent for a while, then picked up the branch that had been lying to the side again, crossed out the original words on the ground, and wrote two more words:

Sheng Huan.

"Sheng Huan? Who is Sheng Huan?"

The savage stared at me incredulously for a while, then slowly raised his blood-stained fingers and pointed them at me.

"I?"

He nodded.

You're saying I'm Sheng Huan?

He still nodded.

"You must be joking. My name is Sun Qingshan, not Sheng Huan."

He stopped nodding, and behind his messy, straw-like hair, his eyes simply stared at me quietly.

The eerie silence and the strange gaze made me realize that he wasn't just questioning something; he was forcing me to admit that my name was Sheng Huan.

The problem is, I'm not! I touch my face, and I can't be wrong. The location of my hormonal pimples is exactly right, as are their size and feel. I am definitely still the same me, not some surviving Sheng Huan.

"You've got the wrong person." I thought if I patiently explained to him, he wouldn't get angry, since I hadn't provoked him; he was the one who mistook me for someone else.

The sky outside the cave darkened, and he continued to look at me without saying a word.

“I…” I had only uttered one word when I saw him pick up the branch he had put on the ground again.

He searched for a long time—and wrote down these four words.

"You've been looking for me for a long time... You said you've been looking for me for a long time?" This time I knew it was pointless to reason with him; he was acting strangely, and I should have known from the beginning.

Forcing yourself to argue with someone who's not thinking straight is only possible if you're not normal yourself.

"Then who are you?" I asked the savage.

The savage picked up the branch again and wrote: I don't remember.

"Don't remember?" I smiled wryly. "You said my name is Sheng Huan, but you don't remember your own name?"

He nodded quietly, looking at me with an expression that suggested everything was perfectly natural.

“We can’t do such a thing, you savages—” As soon as I said it, I knew I was done for.

Looking at the savage, he was indeed staring at me with some surprise, so much so that I wanted to change my address. I wanted to say that I would never dare to call him a savage again, but I knew that the more I tried to explain, the worse it would get. Changing the subject was better than changing it.

So I asked a question that I thought was very skillful: "Do you still remember who you are to Sheng Huan?"

This time he thought about it for a little longer, then picked up the branch again and wrote: Most important.

"He's the most important person, isn't he...?" I was baffled. This savage was too shameless. Who would say they are someone else's most important person? Saying it the other way around might be more believable. So I turned it around and asked, "Then what is Sheng Huan to you?"

He looked at me, but didn't pick up the small branch that was on the ground.

I asked again, "Have you even forgotten this?"

He neither nodded nor shook his head, which puzzled me greatly.

I was a little discouraged. I never imagined that communicating with wild animals was so difficult. But thinking about those who are dedicated to learning how to communicate with gorillas, I feel proud of them.

With a sigh, I turned away. Although the savage's behavior was gentle, I still couldn't stand his attire and appearance. I knew he didn't mean to hurt me, so I was even less inclined to play this boring role-playing game with him.

Just then, the savage patted my shoulder, which startled me, and I turned around abruptly.

That savage face again...

I'd rather just die...

He pointed to the ground, and I looked over. There were two characters he had just written:

I will marry you.

"Marry you?"

The savage did not react.

I corrected, "Marry me?"

The savage nodded.

I felt powerless and didn't want to argue with him anymore.

He didn't force me to pay attention to him; he just quietly sat back down and kept looking at me with undiminished interest.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't say anything to him.

The sky grew darker, and I leaned against the cave wall and fell asleep.

Common bathing issue

When I was half-awake, I felt a little cold, so I moved my body and moved closer to a warmer place.

But there was a strange smell in that place. I sniffed and suddenly opened my eyes—

A savage's chest?!

I'm sleeping facing a savage's chest?!

I'm lying on a savage's lap—sleeping?!

I was actually being embraced by a savage's arms—and I felt incredibly comfortable!

I'm going to die...

I closed my eyes and fainted.

When I opened my eyes again, I was still sleeping on the savage's lap. I felt a burning, obsessive gaze falling on me from above, and I commanded myself not to look up.

Only when the savage's head got close did I realize my mouth was in danger, so I suddenly straightened up and jumped off the savage's leg.

He held me in his arms all night, and even with my eyes closed, I could smell the sour stench emanating from my body.

"Is there any water?" I asked.

The savage watched me silently.

"Is there any water I can use to wash my face and hands, and have a drink?" I asked loudly.

The savage nodded, and I suddenly realized he was a little afraid of me. My tone had been harsh just now, and I could see him visibly shrink back, clearly terrified.

The savage led me—no, I should say he carried me despite my protests—to a spring behind a cave.

Under the morning mist, the spring water was steaming, and the misty air revealed that it was a natural hot spring!

I couldn't help but feel excited, so excited that I hung on the savage's neck and swayed left and right.

The savage's eyes crinkled; he was overjoyed to see me, even more so than he was overjoyed himself.

What kind of lousy rhetoric is this?

Regardless of all that, I broke free from the wild man's embrace and ran excitedly towards the hot spring.

When I reached the spring, I stopped and looked back at the wild man. He was still standing there, his outline blurred by the water vapor and mist, but his gaze was fixed on me, seemingly unaffected by anything around him.

I want to take off my clothes, but he keeps staring at me. How can I take them off?

Or was he just standing there waiting for this moment, or did he want to take off his clothes and wash together?

But he's not very bright, and he doesn't seem like the kind of person who would take advantage of someone else's situation.

Forget about the clothes, I'll just jump down with them on.

So I just jumped.

The spring water was at a moderate temperature, but after I jumped in, I wondered how I could have dared to jump in. What if the temperature exceeded 80 degrees Celsius? What if the sulfur content was too high? Then I would really be dead, just a skeleton.

But thinking about it again, it might be because I trust the savage. He brought me here, and I trust he won't push me to my death.

Why did I believe him?

I stood in the spring, the shallow part just reaching my waist. I looked at the wild man through the rising steam, and he was still standing there, looking at me. It seemed that ever since he saw me and was beside me, he had always been looking at me with different expressions. Because I couldn't see his expression clearly, I could only try to guess the different meanings in his eyes.

Most of the time, his eyes were happy. He would be happy when he looked at me. Sometimes there was a hint of sadness, and very rarely was there despair. But none of it was like the first time. He was a little crazy then, so intense that it made my heart tremble.

I splashed water and started showering in a somewhat disorganized manner. I was dressed, but without shampoo or shower gel, I really didn't know where to begin.

About an hour later, I came out of the hot spring. At first, I felt very warm inside, but after taking a few steps, a mountain breeze blew in—"Achoo!"

My whole body was soaked, and there was no way to find anything to dry myself off.

The savage was standing in front of me. He was clearly regretful and looked at me trembling as if he was very worried. I smiled at him and sneezed again.

He reached out and picked me up. Wait a minute, if he picks me up, why should I take a shower? Wouldn't it be pointless to shower?

Wild man… I looked him up and sized him up. He should be a reliable person, even though his appearance is a bit… but at least he's not a bad person. What can he do to me? We've already kissed and hugged each other. At most, he might rape me.

But I have a feeling that it will happen in the near future.

So...

"Um..." I was being held by him, and I grabbed his tattered clothes to stop him from flying into the sky. "I still feel like I'm not clean enough. We...we...why don't we go back to the hot spring?"

The savage looked down at me, but didn't react in any particular way. He just nodded and carried me to the spring.

The savage put me into the water and stood on the side watching me.

I stood in the water and looked at him. From below, he was incredibly tall above me. He was very thin, his clothes were tattered, exposing his arms and calves, and a piece of cloth was missing from his chest. All the exposed skin was covered in wounds.

Where on earth did he get so many injuries?

And does he never take a shower? He must be aware of this. Doesn't he feel uncomfortable with his hair sticking to his body all the time?