Chapter 17: Peaked??

Yan Sen sat on a wooden stool, focused intently on milking the cow. Every now and then, he murmured soft, soothing words to the animal, as though it were a sentient being.

The morning sunlight streamed through the wooden slats of the barn, illuminating the scene in a golden glow. The light softened the hard lines of Yan Sen's face, lending an almost serene warmth to his rugged features.

Standing off to the side, Qin Li watched him, finding this version of him strangely different from the brusque man who had arrived in a tractor to pick her up. Here, he seemed less cold and more approachable—almost gentle. Anyone who could be this patient with animals surely couldn't be all bad.

As if sensing her gaze, Yan Sen suddenly turned, catching her mid-stare. Qin Li froze, her cheeks heating in embarrassment. She cleared her throat awkwardly and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Is milking hard?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Want to give it a try?"

Without waiting for an answer, he shifted slightly, making room on the stool, and motioned for her to sit beside him.

Qin Li hesitated but reluctantly sat down. She hadn't meant for her curiosity to lead to this, but now it seemed she had no choice.

Yan Sen handed her a jar of petroleum jelly. Seeing her confusion, he explained, "Reduces friction."

Their proximity was unavoidable, and she caught a faint whiff of fresh grass emanating from him. The subtle, earthy scent paired oddly with his usual intimidating presence.

Qin Li shook off her wandering thoughts and squeezed a bit of jelly onto her palms. The faint smell of the balm replaced the grassy aroma as she rubbed her hands together.

However, when she finally turned to face the cow, she froze. The sight of the animal's large teats swinging in front of her was… intimidating, to say the least.

"Here," Yan Sen said, reaching out to demonstrate. His hands gripped two of the teats confidently. "You start with the front two, like this. Wrap your thumb and index finger around the base, press down to fill your palm, and then squeeze gently. It's all about rhythm—steady pressure and a light touch. The cow has to feel comfortable for the milk to flow."

His explanation was clinical, but Qin Li couldn't help feeling that there was something oddly suggestive about the entire process. She glanced at his face for any sign of teasing, but his expression was neutral. Still, she felt her face flush as if caught thinking something improper.

"Your turn," he said, tilting his head toward the cow.

Reluctantly, Qin Li placed her hands on the teats. The sensation was… weird. She gave a half-hearted squeeze, hoping to get it over with, but nothing happened.

"Not like that," Yan Sen said, his tone bordering on impatient. "If you're going to do it, do it properly."

Under his watchful gaze, Qin Li sighed and tried again, this time putting a bit more effort into it. But no matter how much she squeezed or pressed, the milk stubbornly refused to come out.

"Am I doing something wrong?" she asked, frustration creeping into her voice.

Yan Sen didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached over, his hands brushing hers as he repositioned them. "Like this," he said, guiding her movements with a firm but gentle grip.

His hands were rough, calloused from years of hard labor, but his touch was surprisingly steady. Qin Li found herself following his lead, and after several attempts, a tiny stream of milk finally dribbled into the bucket.

"I did it!" she exclaimed, more relieved than triumphant.

Yan Sen nodded in approval but gestured toward the cow's back teats. "Now the other two."

Her smile froze. "What?"

"Practice makes perfect," he said matter-of-factly.

Qin Li bit back a groan. By the time she finished with the remaining teats, her arms felt like they'd been put through a workout at the gym. The bucket was only half full, but she was utterly spent.

"That's enough for today, right?" she asked hopefully.

But before he could answer, the cow let out a low, disgruntled moo and shifted its weight. Its hind leg twitched, and Qin Li saw the telltale sign of an impending kick.

"Oh no!" she yelped, stumbling backward in a panic. In her haste, she reached out blindly and grabbed onto the nearest thing for support—Yan Sen.

Unfortunately, he wasn't as stable as she'd hoped. Her momentum sent both of them toppling to the ground in a heap.

Yan Sen lay sprawled on top of Qin Li, his face buried in her chest. She could even feel the bridge of his prominent nose pressing into her. The position was mortifyingly intimate—strip away a few layers of clothing, and it would be downright scandalous.

Her tailbone throbbed from the impact, her pristine white dress was now smeared with mud, and the smell of manure clung to her shoes. With a man pinning her down, the scene was a complete disaster.

Gritting her teeth, Qin Li jabbed a finger into Yan Sen's side. "Aren't you going to get up?" she demanded through clenched teeth.

Yan Sen finally turned his head away, his expression as impassive as ever. "She peaked."

Qin Li blinked, her face flushing furiously. Who peaked? Him?

Before she could voice her outrage, he pushed himself up with a casual grace, finishing his sentence as he stood. "The cow. She reached her peak. That's why she kicked."

Qin Li stared, utterly speechless.

When they'd tumbled, the milk bucket had overturned, spilling its precious contents across the barn floor. Hours of backbreaking work had been reduced to just a meager puddle at the bottom of the bucket. Her arms ached, her pride was bruised, and the cow, blissfully unaware, was back to chewing cud.

"You okay?" Yan Sen asked, his tone flat but his gaze assessing.

Qin Li grumbled, "Not really."

"I meant," he clarified, "are you hurt?"

Her mind raced. She had no desire to be roped into more chores. "I think I twisted my leg," she lied, hoping her pained expression was convincing enough.

Yan Sen gave her a curt nod. "Then go rest."

The dismissal was her saving grace. Without hesitation, she turned and hobbled off, her faux limp a little too enthusiastic.

Behind her, Yan Sen shook his head. City women, he thought. Too delicate, too easily discouraged. Definitely not the type to stick around and endure the demands of farm life.

Back at the house, Thomas spotted her dragging herself inside, her dress streaked with mud and her face resembling someone who had just gone through battle.

"What happened to you?" he asked, his tone equal parts curious and amused.

"Milking," Qin Li snapped, shaking a piece of straw out of her hair.

"Ah," Thomas said knowingly. "Let me guess—Little Blossom gave you trouble?"

"Little Blossom?" she asked, dumbfounded.

"The reddish-brown cow. Cute face, big attitude. We named her after a childhood crush."

Qin Li had barely taken notice of the cows earlier; they all looked the same to her. After this morning's ordeal, she certainly didn't have the energy to argue about which one had the "cutest face."

Seeing the exasperation written across her face, Thomas patted her shoulder reassuringly. "She'll warm up to you eventually. One time she kicked me so hard I limped for a week. You'll get used to it."

Used to it? Qin Li wanted to scream.

At that moment, Yan Sen walked in, carrying two full buckets of milk as if they weighed nothing. He glanced at her briefly, his face as unreadable as ever. "Clean yourself up and come down for breakfast," he said simply before heading to the kitchen.

At the mention of food, Qin Li's stomach growled loudly, betraying her hunger. She had completely forgotten about breakfast in the chaos of the morning.

Upstairs in the bathroom, Qin Li stared at her reflection in the mirror. Mud streaked her face, straw clung to her hair, and her once-pristine dress was a wreck. She peeled it off, filled a basin with soapy water, and began scrubbing furiously.

Her thoughts drifted as she worked, the repetitive motion of her hands doing little to distract her from the unwelcome memories that bubbled to the surface. She had been trying to escape this—the reminders of her past. Yet somehow, they always found her.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her reverie. Glancing at the screen, her heart sank. More photos.

The latest updates from Sun Yi's social media were a showcase of his extravagant lifestyle with his new wife, Xu Jing. Helicopter rides, luxury cruises, fine dining—it was all so painfully perfect.

The photos felt like tiny daggers. It wasn't just that he had moved on; it was how easily he flaunted it. What did I ever mean to him? she wondered bitterly.

In her frustration, she scrubbed harder at the dress. The fabric groaned under the pressure, and with a sharp rip, a hole appeared.

Qin Li let out an exasperated sigh. Tossing the dress aside, she sank to the floor, resting her back against the wall. It's just a dress, she told herself, but her chest felt tight. It wasn't just a dress—it was the last gift Sun Yi had given her before everything fell apart.

The knock at the door startled her.

"Hey," Thomas called from the other side. "You've been in there for an hour and a half. My brother sent me to check if you're still alive."

"I'm fine!" she shouted back.

A slip of her foot proved otherwise. She stepped on the discarded soap bar, her foot skidded, and she went down with a loud thud.

"Are you okay?" Thomas's voice came again, this time laced with concern.

"I… I fell," she groaned, wincing as pain shot through her back. "I think I twisted my waist."

There was a pause. Then, "Open the door and let me in."

"It's locked," she called back, adding in a mortified whisper, "And I'm… in the middle of washing."

Before she could finish, she heard hurried footsteps retreating.

"Hold tight!" Thomas yelled. "I'll go get my brother!"