Chapter 6: Even a Cornered Rabbit Will Bite

The rabbit knew that Jiang Chengyan was angry, but she had no idea how to comfort him. She lacked experience in such matters, and she truly didn’t want to face his cold, indifferent back alone. Helplessly, she kept nudging her little head against Jiang Chengyan’s cheek.

“Husband, are you upset?” The rabbit always spoke directly.

“And what if someone is better looking than me?” After a long silence, Jiang Chengyan suddenly asked.

Hearing this, the rabbit stopped her affectionate gestures and instead balled her fists, pounding them against his shoulder. “You keep fussing, so what do you want me to do?”

Humans are strange creatures; it’s still better to be a rabbit.

With that, she tried to jump down from Jiang Chengyan’s back. Seeing she was about to leap, Jiang Chengyan adjusted her securely on his back, his tone cool: “You’re quite temperamental. Indeed, when a rabbit gets anxious, it bites.”

“Let’s not talk about it. Sleep for a bit.” There was still some distance to the county town. After Jiang Chengyan spoke, the rabbit tilted her head and quickly fell asleep on his back.

He looked at her disdainfully, then carried the little woman all the way toward the county town.

…

By the time they arrived, daylight had already broken. Instead of heading straight to the market, Jiang Chengyan brought the rabbit to a small house beside the county government office.

Behind the window, a lazy and disdainful face appeared.

Jiang Chengyan arrived with the rabbit on his back. Without even looking up, the clerk tossed over a paper. “Here for a marriage certificate? Both of you sign and stamp.”

Jiang Chengyan swiftly wrote two names. Looking up, he saw the clerk glancing at them, and chuckled, “My wife is illiterate—she can’t write.”

It was common in this era for village girls to have never attended school.

“Then stamp it.” The clerk yawned, barely awake at this early hour.

Jiang Chengyan bent halfway down, not letting the rabbit off his back, and grabbed her little hand to stamp the paper.

But just then, her small hand—stained with red ink—quietly wiped the ink onto Jiang Chengyan’s clothes, clearly using his shirt as a rag.

“My little one, do you think I’m blind?” Jiang Chengyan stowed the certificate and carried her out.

The rabbit was clearly awake now, her legs dangling, lips pouting. “It’s dirty. I don’t like it.”

“If it’s dirty, why wipe it on me? Why not wipe it on yourself?” Jiang Chengyan turned to look at her.

Her small head came closer, expertly steering the conversation elsewhere. “What are those two red papers? What does ‘signing’ mean? I don’t have a name, so what am I supposed to sign?”

She couldn’t read, but just now, Jiang Chengyan had indeed signed two characters.

“I’ve given you a name.”

“What is it?”

“Bai Yan.”

The rabbit kept murmuring the two syllables, “Bai Yan? And what’s your name?”

“I am Jiang Chengyan.” Carrying her, Jiang Chengyan wound through the crowded streets toward a bedding shop.

The little woman on his back kept muttering, “Jiang Chengyan, Bai Yan—they both have the ‘yan’ sound, don’t they?”

Jiang Chengyan offered no explanation. Yet Bai Yan felt the name wasn’t so simple, not something chosen at random.

“Why don’t I have the surname Jiang?” As they approached the shop, Bai Yan posed yet another troublesome question.

“Because rabbits aren’t native to the Jiang family,” Jiang Chengyan replied with a smile.