The morning light gently filtered through the window, resting softly on Clara's cheek and making her silver hair shine brilliantly as if she were draped in a layer of gold foil. I quietly watched my wife. She looked like a goddess touched by the golden light, so breathtaking that I could not tear my eyes away.
I carefully smoothed down her silver locks, which had become somewhat tousled in her sleep. Although I tried my best not to wake her, her eyelids fluttered with sensitive alertness. She blinked open her sleepy eyes into thin slits and then flashed a sweet smile at me.
"Good morning, my dear—"
Her lazy, soft murmur echoed in my ear, sweet as honey, making my bones melt with pleasure.
"Whoa—a bit cheesy, aren't we? So intense early in the morning. Are you trying to recharge my batteries or make me skip breakfast altogether?"
Clara's hair used to be golden, smooth as fine silk and pretty as a canary's wings. But nowadays, due to a special illness, her long hair had turned almost entirely silver, with only the temples and tips retaining a trace of gold. I had once asked her if she felt any other discomfort aside from the color change in her hair, but she would always hem and haw to brush it off.
"It's nothing, just some minor ailment. Hair turns white sooner or later anyway. Oh my, oh my, don't tell me you're already sick of me now? Hah, men are all so fickle. My heart has been completely broken by you! Even if you cry, apologize, and beg me to make up with you, it's out of the question, so even though I'm very sorry, please put that idea out of your head, thank you. (Deep breath and inhale)"
She was always like this, warming my tiny corner of the world like a little sun, as if she had never even known what sadness felt like.
After sharing an ordinary and unpretentious breakfast with Clara...
While clearing the table, I accidentally caught sight of Clara sitting by the window in the living room, gazing outside. There was a sparkle in her eyes as she softly hummed an unfamiliar tune. The sunlight shone on her face, outlining her gentle cheeks. With a smile playing at the corners of her lips, she gently stroked her rounded belly—where a new life was growing.
Before I knew it, Clara had been carrying this little angel for nine months now...
I finished clearing the dishes, wiped my wet hands with a smile, and walked into the living room to quietly watch Clara. She suddenly looked up, her eyes sparkling with bright light: "Arthur, what do you think... what should we name the child?"
Names... it was indeed about time to start thinking of one, but picking names was the hardest thing in the world. It took the most agonizing torture of my brain cells just to fish out a few options from my meager store of culture.
I crossed my arms and thought for a moment before saying, "If it's a boy, let's call him Alfred. If it's a girl... how about Alice?"
Clara lowered her eyelids and gently stroked her belly. I heard her murmur: "Alice... a bit cliché, but..."
Clara smiled faintly, her furrowed brow smoothing out.
"Not too bad, I suppose."
"Hey, Arthur!"
A familiar voice came from outside the window. I looked up and saw a man standing outside in green clothes. He had delicate features and was wrapped in a thick green cotton coat, leaving only his exquisite face exposed. Even though he was a man, he had the unmistakable air of a young girl. At first glance, one might really take him for an eighteen-year-old maiden, yet who would ever guess that he was a middle-aged guy of the exact same age as me?
"Out so early in the dead of winter? It's freezing outside. Come on in and sit a while, Gibbs."
I reached out and waved to him, and he returned my smile: "No can do, no can do. I still have to hurry and pay back my wine tab. I signed a promissory note; the tavern keeper totally outsmarted me. I was actually hoping to keep running a tab, too. I need to grab a good spot before the tavern just opens and gets crowded. The weather's nice—hope you have a wonderful day, Arthur! Oh, of course, the same to you, Miss Clara!"
"Find some time to come down to the tavern and have a drink with an old friend like me, Arthur! I've got so many stories prepared to tell you!" With that, Gibbs bolted away like a gust of wind, leaving no trace behind.
"Gibbs is still the same as ever, full of energy, as if he never gets tired," Clara said with a smile.
"Yeah, probably infected by Tricia, running back and forth between the tavern and home day in and day out, more invested than anyone else."
Come to think of it, Gibbs was my closest friend since childhood. Back then, with that pretty face of his, he had even stolen the hearts of quite a few boys experiencing their first stirnings of love. His innate scholarly temperament gave him the carefree, romantic demeanor of a literati ever since he was little. But in his own words, he could never be as detached from the world as the ancient sages, nor did he have any grand ambitions; drinking a little wine and singing a few songs was quite enough for him.
"I actually think there's nothing wrong with that. At least he still has something to do, unlike a certain mid-life crisis man who is well into his thirties and still won't go out to find a proper job, having to rely on me to support him." Clara narrowed her eyes, staring at me with a grinning taunt.
"Do you women all come out of the same mold? Why do I feel like my mom used to mock me the exact same way when I was little? Besides, an outstanding middle-aged man with such high ideological awareness as me is a rare breed. Do you have any idea how many young girls are dying for me and can't have me? You should consider yourself lucky to have gotten me. You'll never see my good points, woman."
I sidled up to Clara and took her delicate, boneless hand, soft as a handful of cotton.
"Ha? Go ahead and name a single good thing about yourself. If you can come up with even one advantage I haven't noticed, I will... I'll reward you with lunch."
"When it's hot, I take off my clothes. When it's cold, I put on more clothes. I've mastered the full advanced technology of addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division within ten. Give me a piece of paper and a pen, and I can even handle three-digit numbers. I can do the laundry, cook meals, run errands, and get things done, and most importantly, I'm a specialist at finishing leftovers. Aren't all these strengths?"
"What kind of nonsense is that?" Clara was amused, wrapping both arms around my neck and pulling me closer, inch by inch.
"What are you doing, forcing a kiss on me? I'm warning you, I'm not that kind of man. My rates are higher if it's involuntary. If you're willing to keep me as a kept man, I suppose I could consider sacrificing my looks."
"You just know how to run your mouth. I really don't know what I saw in you. Turns out you took advantage of my youthful ignorance to trick me into your hands. If I'd known, I would've kept my eyes wide open and thoroughly inspected your true colors."
I felt a slight pain in my ear as Clara pinched and gave it a gentle twist.
"Clara, it'll break off like that! Not there, ahhhhh! Wait, you're actually serious?" I had planned to keep joking around, but I hadn't expected Clara to suddenly exert force, hurting me so much that I doubled over and half-knelt in front of her.
"If I don't put a stop to you, the kid is going to turn out just like you."
"That's great! I'm the child's spiritual template. My child should follow my lead and learn my fine traditional virtues and spirit. I think that's very—ahhhhh... it hurts."
"You have no sense of seriousness."
Clara laughed and let go. She didn't expect that I would suddenly spring up, grab her wrist, and pin her to the chair so she couldn't move.
Clara froze for a moment, turning her head away to avoid looking at me. I could see that her rosy cheeks had taken on a faint blush.
"What are you doing..."
A voice that sounded half-scolding and half-pouting reached my ears.
"Oh my, are you blushing?~~~"
"No I'm not, don't flatter yourself~"
"Is that so? Then let me take a look, shall I?"
"No way..."
"Don't be so stingy. I want to see what a fully ripened apple looks like. Show me."
Clara gave me a light shove. Before I could lean in again, a soft, tender slipper stepped onto my face, preventing me from moving forward an inch.
"No way—it's getting late! Today's silk hasn't been woven yet. Hey, hey, hey, stop licking that, you jerk!"
I straightened up with a serious expression. A large bundle of handmade silk woven by Clara hit me right in the face, knocking me off balance and making me nearly drop the bundle.
"Why not? Aren't you my wife?"
"Being a wife isn't an excuse for you to be a pervert. Don't casually use me as your shield. If today's batch doesn't sell out, your punishment is that you don't get to eat lunch!" Clara said, gently kicking my foot as a sign for me to scram immediately.
"Hehehe, once I find a suitable job, my dear wife won't have to break her back weaving cloth every day either. I'll take you out to live the high life for a couple of days." I joked in a silly tone, picking up the bundle of exquisitely textured silk.
"You're such a goofball. I asked you to imitate, not to surpass."
I smiled and turned to tidy up some clothes. Clara turned her head back, watching my back with a tender gaze, and whispered softly: "Even the Hero has to hustle for a living."
"Talk about that—I need to eat too, and you need looking after. Life isn't easy, so I've got no choice but to sell my body... ugh, I mean, sell cloth to help make ends meet! But what did you just call me? After all these years, it still sounds so strange. Looks like I was never cut out to be a Hero in the first place. Fighting and killing every day is utterly exhausting, and I really have to thank old Sutton for taking the fall for me. If it wasn't for him, I'd be the one out there enduring the wind and sun every day right now. But still... trading a Hero's title for a pretty wife? Tsk tsk, talk about a guaranteed profit."
That sword leaning in the corner of the wall—how long had it been since it was last moved? There probably wouldn't be any need for it ever again.
Hadn't I already made my choice? I chose the person I loved most, chose the life I wanted, and chose my own happiness.
Being a Hero—some meaningless title, some meaningless honorific, some meaningless power and responsibility—was never meant to fall on a habitually lazy guy like me.
To enjoy that touch of tender and tranquil afternoon—that was already enough, already the greatest happiness I could ask for today...
P.S.: Dear reader lords, I'm a rookie writer with limited skills. I'd love a precious book review for some support! (??ω??)??