Chapter 4: Carried Away

Before lunch, Derek went out to work again and still hadn’t returned by mealtime.

My mother-in-law was clearing the table, muttering, "It’s already time to eat and he’s not back. I still have to feed his grandma later. This kid must be waiting for me to bring him food. Honestly."

She was stacking chipped plates, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, the lines around her eyes deepened by worry.

My eyes lit up. This was a good opportunity.

"Mom, I’ll bring him food later."

She looked at me, confirming, "The sun’s pretty hot today—are you sure you want to go?"

Seeing me nod, she smiled. "Alright, then change your clothes later. Don’t wear a skirt—the road isn’t easy."

Her smile was approving, almost proud, as if I’d passed some sort of rural wife initiation test.

On the way, I asked around the neighborhood before finally finding the place. Derek was working with a weed whacker. When he saw me, he frowned. "Why are you here? Where’s my mom?"

His voice carried over the engine’s drone, a little too loud, but his eyes flicked down to the lunchbox I carried.

"She’s at home feeding grandma. Eat first."

Derek nodded, telling me to wait under the shade of a tree and that he’d come find me after finishing up.

Under the tree, I looked around and noticed most of the men were working shirtless—except Derek, who was still wearing a shirt. Why dress so tightly?

The humidity made everyone glisten, bare chests on display like a low-budget calendar shoot. Only Derek kept buttoned up, sweat darkening the cotton across his back.

After a while, Derek came over. I handed him a towel. He wiped off, then told me to turn around.

Me: "..."

Seeing my confusion, he lifted his chin. "I saw you staring at them for a long time. Are they that nice to look at?"

His tone was half-joking, half-jealous, a hint of playful challenge buried under his usual gruffness.

Me: "..."

On the way home, he noticed I was walking awkwardly. "Did you twist your ankle?"

"No, these shoes are just hard to walk in."

I regretted wearing my city flats instead of sneakers, the gravel biting at my soles with every step.

Soon, we reached the roughest part of the road. Derek suddenly stopped. "If you don’t mind, I’ll carry you over."

He bent a little, arms poised, waiting for my answer with an odd mixture of hope and embarrassment.

"No need, I can walk myself."

I refused on instinct—then immediately regretted it. What a wasted opportunity! And now he’d think I disliked him...

Just as I was stewing in regret, I stepped on something and nearly fell. Luckily, Derek caught me in time.

His arms were solid and warm, and for a second, I forgot about the mud on my shoes and the ache in my pride. He held me up with effortless ease. I could hear his heartbeat thumping under his shirt as he steadied me.

I seized the chance: "Can you carry me?"

At that moment, several barrages floated by:

[Male lead: heart just melted, haha!]

[Wife checking out other guys’ abs, male lead is jealous!]

[Who told you to be stingy and not show your abs? Now she’s looking at others!]

[Male lead: I’ll let you see all you want at home.]

[Side character, please don’t dislike the male lead for being poor and rough. He’s only like this for now—he’ll be a self-made big shot soon!]

[With the side character here, the male lead is starting to get self-conscious, hehe.]

Derek carried me for a while before setting me down. "I need to check on the shop later. You head home first."

His hands lingered at my waist a moment longer, then let go. He mumbled something about being careful on the gravel, voice almost too soft to hear.