Happy Little Farmer
Chapter 28 - 28 28 Little Mother Adds Fuel to the Fire

28: Chapter 28 Little Mother Adds Fuel to the Fire 28: Chapter 28 Little Mother Adds Fuel to the Fire Yang Fan, who dared not look Little Mother in the face, went over and gently pulled up Zhou Wenhui’s waistband, ready to make his escape.

“Hold on, what’s the rush?

You’re just pulling up my pants, I’m not going to eat you!” Zhou Wenhui said irritably, “I don’t know what’s up with these pants today, they keep getting stuck in the crotch.

Help me pull them to the right a bit.”

Yang Fan couldn’t help but be stunned.

What kind of pants would keep getting stuck in the crotch!

“Little Mother, this seems…

a bit inconvenient for me,” Yang Fan said hesitatingly.

If it had been any other time, he would have already done it.

After all, his Little Mother was a bold person.

Normally, she didn’t have so many scruples, and she was very casual in her speech and actions.

But now, Yang Fan really felt like a thief with a guilty conscience; he was a bit scared to touch her.

“Hurry up, I’m not asking you to do anything else, just to pull up my pants,” Zhou Wenhui said somewhat angrily.

“I’m not embarrassed, so why are you acting all shy like a little girl?”

Yang Fan, with head down, could only walk over again.

He fumbled with the waistband of Zhou Wenhui’s pants and adjusted the black belt inside by moving it to the right.

“Is it okay now?”

Zhou Wenhui’s expression turned a bit strange, “No, it’s even more stuck…”

“Little Mother, maybe you should wash your hands and adjust it yourself,” Yang Fan suggested.

Zhou Wenhui glanced at Yang Fan and then at the pancake cooking in the pot.

“Can you flip pancakes?”

“I could give it a try,” said Yang Fan.

“Then watch the pot for a bit,” Zhou Wenhui said.

“If I weren’t worried you might misunderstand, I really would have liked you to dig it out for me.

It’s not that I mind washing my hands; I just feel uneasy about adjusting my clothes and then making pancakes.”

Yang Fan: …

Good thing you didn’t.

His mind was truly in torment, caught between extremes.

If he had to dig around for Little Mother a few times, his mentality would definitely explode, and his body probably wouldn’t feel great either…

“Where’s my sister-in-law?

Maybe you could call her to help,” Yang Fan suggested.

“She went to buy groceries.

I realized we didn’t even have a scallion left when I got up to cook this morning,” Zhou Wenhui said offhandedly before suddenly nudging Yang Fan with her hip, “Help me adjust it.”

“What?” Yang Fan was startled, “Little Mother, don’t joke around!”

“What joke am I making?

I’m not asking you to sleep with me.

What are you nervous about?

I really don’t want to ruin my appetite.

Just tug it a bit to the side on my butt, and don’t grope around,” Zhou Wenhui said calmly.

She seemed to think it was no big deal, but Yang Fan was far from calm.

The stimulation from last night had left him in extreme agony, and before he could recover, Little Mother, coincidentally, pulled this stunt.

This getting stuck in the crotch seemed almost like a setup, truly bizarre.

“Hurry up, why are you dragging your feet?

My pancake is about to burn,” Zhou Wenhui nudged Yang Fan with her pelvic bone, urging him.

Yang Fan had no choice but to bite the bullet and go for it.

He reached into Little Mother’s pants, feeling a swath of smooth, soft skin.

Yang Fan groped towards the direction of the buttocks but still only felt soft, smooth skin; he couldn’t find any trace of her underwear.

What kind of underwear was she wearing?

There was clearly a strap, but it barely covered half of her buttocks.

“Little Mother, I can’t seem to find it…” Yang Fan didn’t dare go further, worried he couldn’t hold himself back.

“A little deeper,” Zhou Wenhui said.

Although she was usually bold and uninhibited, having Yang Fan touch her like this seemed to make her shy, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks.

Yang Fan felt around again and finally found the culprit.

Little Mother was dressed so fashionably that the thing had almost entirely wedged itself into her butt crack.

Yang Fan suppressed the surging impulse in his heart, groped at her underpants a couple of times, and then quickly withdrew his hand.

Zhou Wenhuie felt around and said, “That’s much better, go play, we’ll eat later.”

Yang Fan unconsciously touched his nose and nodded.

His habitual action caused Zhou Wenhui’s face to flush with a surge of embarrassment and annoyance as she scolded in a low voice, “You little brat, what are you smelling?

What’s there to smell?”

Yang Fan was stunned, “No, I wasn’t smelling anything, I was just touching my nose.”

“Don’t smell,” Zhou Wenhui shouted with her face still red.

“I didn’t smell anything, there’s really nothing worth smelling,” Yang Fan said helplessly.

But his explanation felt rather weak even to himself.

Touching his nose and smelling seemed to have no difference indeed.

The incident made the cheerful morning suddenly less wonderful.

Zhou Wenhui glanced at Yang Fan, said nothing more, but her expression was clearly one of disbelief.

Yang Fan opened his mouth, then suppressed the desire to explain further.

Last night he had acted rashly a few times, he thought, why bother explaining such a trivial matter?

“Fanzi, are you there?”

Suddenly, a man’s shout came from outside the courtyard.

“It sounds like Old Fu, I’ll go check,” Yang Fan suddenly felt like a savior had appeared, told Little Mother, and hurried out of the kitchen, certain he would die of awkwardness if he stayed any longer.

Under the courtyard wall, a man in his early thirties was squatting with a bulging woven bag in his hand, resting with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

“Old Fu, why didn’t you come in?” Yang Fan asked as he stepped outside.

Old Fu was not old; his real name was Fu Xuebing.

He was just a man in his early thirties who hadn’t achieved much of anything yet.

He had attended a vocational school and learned auto repair, which qualified him as a man with a trade.

He had opened a garage in town a few years ago, but it had been smashed for some reason.

Later, he got involved in construction and faced losses.

However, after failing in two businesses, his ambition was not dampened.

Recently, he had tried contracting land to grow corn and manage projects, but the promised project subsidies had fallen through, and he seemed to be still in litigation with the town.

Last year, he turned his interest to medicinal herbs.

This time, however, he didn’t go big but exercised caution, planting only a few acres of astragalus root and Codonopsis.

“I’d rather not come in, I’m in mourning for a family elder,” Fu Xuebing said, flicking his long hair that almost completely covered his eyebrows, and pointing with his cigarette-holding fingers to the woven bag beside him, “I heard the prices for astragalus root are good lately.

This stuff is from last year, it’s all premium quality about one centimeter around.

What price can you give me for it?”

“You’re the expert on this, we’re neighbors, I can’t just look out for other sellers and ignore the ones right next to me.

Give me a fair price, and I’ll hand over all my acres to you this year, let you have a lucrative season!”

Yang Fan just smiled, the old guy did talk a good game.

Last year, he complained that Yang Fan’s price was too low and went to an out-of-town buyer; turned out after all the nitpicking, they paid even less than what he had offered.

The old guy must be desperate to scrape together some money with this small bag.