Chapter 298: Taken

"Malena, your husband is very heroic; we are all proud of him."

Oliver looked at the beautiful woman standing before him, stunned, her clothes dropped to the ground. He stepped forward, embraced Malena, and pressed his cheek against hers to comfort her. Notifying Malena of her husband's death was a sweet job. Not only could he talk to her, but in her grief, he could also openly take advantage of her. Just like now, with his cheek against hers, his chest feeling her softness, his hand stroking that surely smooth back, and the fragrance filling his nose, he was intoxicated.

Of course, he couldn't keep taking advantage of her like this; it really wouldn't be appropriate. After satisfying himself for a brief moment, he released Malena and continued, "Tomorrow, a farewell ceremony will be held for Lieutenant Antonino in the town square, so that everyone in the town he protected can remember his heroic deeds. Everyone will be proud of him. Believe me, Malena, you must be strong."

Malena had come to her senses by now. She nodded and said, "Mr. Oliver, thank you for bringing me the news, and thank you for your comfort. I need to be alone for a while. I will not attend tomorrow's ceremony."

Giving him an apologetic look, Malena wept silently, hung the clothes from the basin onto the line she had tied herself, and then, clutching the basin and the piece of clothing that had fallen to the ground, she went inside and closed the door.

Oliver watched her beautiful, enchanting back, looked at the black undergarment hanging there, and glanced down at himself. He turned and walked away, muttering, "What a charming enchantress. I wonder which guy favored by the Goddess of Fortune will get her..."

Malena carried the basin back into the washroom, drew water again, and washed the garment that had just fallen into the dirt. At this moment, her mind was filled with every detail from the time they met until now, and the lines of longing in the letters she had received from home.

After washing the clothes for a long while, Malena's eyes were red and swollen from crying. She forced herself to hang that piece of clothing outside again. Then, she slumped onto the sofa in the corner, staring blankly at the home before her, her mind wandering, playing an endless movie.

But as she watched that movie, Malena discovered that her grief had already passed. Because she inevitably thought of her life without a husband in the future, and consequently, she inevitably thought of the thug sleeping upstairs—the man from the East who combined charm, wisdom, wit, humor, and extensive knowledge all in one.

She thought, since her husband was already dead, she no longer had to suffer the torment of looking at that Oriental man every day; she no longer had to feel guilty toward her husband. She had not wronged her husband; at least, until she received the news of his death, she had done nothing out of line. Washing clothes, cooking, making clothes, and so on—that was all forced upon her by that Oriental man; she had no way to resist...

But Malena sadly discovered that she could not deceive herself; her heart had indeed long since betrayed her husband, betrayed the vows they had taken when they married. Her husband was fighting abroad, sending her an allowance, ensuring she had no worries about food or clothing. At home, she was flirting with a thug and had even fallen in love with him. She was not a good woman... she let her thoughts run wild...

Wang Yan, sleeping upstairs, of course heard the commotion and the news of Malena's husband's death. But he did not go downstairs to comfort her; Malena needed to think for herself and get through the grief of losing her husband. Although he was used to saying one thing and meaning another and felt no burden, he still had no interest in this kind of thing. Anything he said would just be advice like "don't be too hard on yourself," "the person is gone," "you should look forward," and the like. At most, it would just sound a bit better coming from his mouth; it was meaningless.

Moreover, if he really wanted to comfort her, Wang Yan felt nothing was more effective than direct intimacy. However, since the woman had just lost her husband, it really wasn't very appropriate. Of course, it wasn't that it was bad for him—he didn't care about that—it was mainly that such a thing wasn't very good for Malena. If she happened to think of her dead husband in the future and remembered that she had followed another man not even a day after receiving the news of his death, that would be a hurdle.

Wang Yan didn't think about it anymore. After all, he was indeed a bit exhausted, so he immediately closed his eyes and fell asleep, deciding to deal with it after waking up.

…………

"What happened, Malena?"

Waking up refreshed, Wang Yan walked over to Malena, who was sitting alone with red, swollen eyes, and asked, pretending to know nothing.

Malena was startled by the voice. She had already stopped crying, but seeing Wang Yan's concern, she couldn't help but shed tears again: "My husband was killed in battle..."

"Oh, heavens, this is truly terrible news." Wang Yan bent down very naturally and hugged her: "You are a strong woman, Malena. You don't need to worry about your future life; I am here."

Just as he had thought before, there was no need for comfort; it was truly unnecessary.

The grief was just a passing moment; Malena was being hard on herself. At this moment, hearing Wang Yan's words, she couldn't help but look up at him, her face tear-stained: "Wang..."

Wang Yan shook his head, gently lifted her chin, and slowly leaned down. Under the gaze of her large eyes, which were filled with complex emotions—anticipation, shyness, conflict, resistance, guilt, and more—he stared at her, and then their lips touched, followed by their teeth and tongues, and then their tongues explored each other, exchanging saliva.

After a long while, their lips parted, and a thin, viscous thread stretched and broke in the air. An ambiguous atmosphere spread and permeated the room, making the already stuffy room even hotter.

Malena blushed, breathing heavily. She didn't dare look at Wang Yan, her eyes subconsciously scanning the room. Noticing the time on the clock on the side—six o'clock—she exclaimed, "Wang, I'm going to make dinner."

Wang Yan pulled Malena, who wanted to escape, and pressed her back onto the sofa, gently stroking her flushed cheeks: "Malena, you need to rest well now. Leave dinner to me; it will be ready soon."

Malena murmured an agreement and stopped struggling. She stared blankly at Wang Yan's busy back, not knowing what she was thinking...

After a while, Wang Yan quickly made some food, and the two sat at the dining table and began to eat.

Looking at Malena, who was eating without appetite, Wang Yan said, "Malena, you don't need to feel guilty; you have been true to your husband. No one can resist the fire of emotion in their heart; what we need to do is face it. Your husband has died in battle. Before this, you know, nothing ever happened between us; you kept your loyalty to him. Now he is dead; he is the past, and he can no longer influence your future. Our feelings need no further words; this is something you and I both know. Your future is me, Malena. Your husband's death may not necessarily be a bad thing for us."

Malena opened her large eyes, looking at the Oriental man in front of her, who looked serious and full of tenderness.

Wang Yan continued, "We cannot change the past, but the future is in our hands. Your life has just begun, and the true excitement is far from arriving. I only allow you to grieve for one day, Malena, because we are about to start a new life, start a new excitement."

Malena didn't know what to say, so she just nodded and murmured an agreement, then continued to eat, though her appetite was much better than before.

Seeing this, Wang Yan smiled slightly and ate heartily. It couldn't be said that Malena had no feelings for her lieutenant husband, but they were definitely not deep; what supported her was the marital relationship. After all, from the time they met until they married, it had only been a little over two years. During this time, there was a long period when they were not together, relying only on letters to express their longing. But with his appearance, the letters from afar were clearly useless. After all, compared to letters that came once in a long while, the companionship by one's side was more practical.

To extrapolate from this, speaking of long-distance relationships or living apart, it really comes down to the individual; after all, there are truly those who hold firm, and quite a few at that. But he doesn't hold a very optimistic view of it, because he himself is doing exactly that kind of thing. It's just like Gu Jia from a long time ago; those two were practically together every single day, and didn't she still have her heart stirred?

When it comes down to it, it's because he has done those things, so he doesn't identify with it, and he doesn't look upon it favorably. To go even further, he, Wang Mou, is no good—it's just that simple.

Returning to Malèna, before her husband died, wasn't she also flirting with that Lieutenant Cadì? After her husband died, she even had a romantic dinner at home. If that dentist hadn't ruined things, and without all that messy business, Malèna would basically have ended up with Lieutenant Cadì. It's just that Cadì lacked the backbone; for the sake of his own future, he claimed he was only an ordinary friend to Malèna and gave her up.

Of course, one could also say Malèna needed something to rely on; after all, in this day and age, a woman always needs to find a man. But regardless of what she thought, the result was that just a few days after her husband died, she was having a romantic dinner with Cadì—the facts are right there.

And according to what Wang Yan understands, this Lieutenant Cadì was a comrade-in-arms of Malèna's husband, Nino Scordia. If he could have withstood the storm, he really would have been a good brother to Nino...

Wang Yan didn't go out that night. After all, Malèna was still heartbroken, so he fully played the role of a companion, holding her as they lay in the bedroom for most of the night, listening to her mutterings until she fell asleep.

The next day, Malèna woke up very late, and thinking of yesterday's events, she couldn't help but blush a little.

She got up, put on her slippers, and walked out of the room, looking toward the room next door where Wang Yan used to sleep—it was empty. Walking to the top of the stairs, she saw Wang Yan, who was sitting on the sofa in the corner below reading a book, look up: "Good morning, my dear Malèna. I've made breakfast for you, eat up."

Malèna walked down the stairs step by step in a graceful manner, walked up to Wang Yan, leaned over, and kissed him: "Thank you, Wang."

Wang Yan stroked her cheek: "Never say thank you to me, Malèna, just this once. Go eat, then go see your father; I think he must be very worried about you. You must tell him that you are fine."

"Yes, I am fine, Wang." Malèna lowered her head and kissed Wang Yan again, then turned and went to the bathroom to wash up, after which she silently ate the breakfast that was still warm on the table.

After breakfast, Malèna returned to her room, changed into a black dress, covered her head with a black scarf, slung a small black bag over her shoulder, and went downstairs to kiss Wang Yan goodbye: "I'll be back soon."

"Go on." Seeing the sweetness in Malèna's eyes, Wang Yan offered a silent prayer for Lieutenant Scordia, who was still alive, having only lost an arm and contracted malaria while being held in an Indian concentration camp, because in Malèna's heart, he had already died forever.

From now on, there will be no Malèna Scordia; there is only Malèna Wang.

That day, just as it had been originally, in the town square, local high-ranking military officials announced the death of Nino Scordia. Amidst the vicious words of some women and the lecherous thoughts of the men, there was another passionate Fascist speech to brainwash the people, and only then did the formation disperse.

Malèna did not attend; she just stayed at her father's house. She was, of course, still sad, but she wasn't sad either. She didn't go because she knew how ugly the things those people said could be, and she didn't want to hear them. It wasn't as if this kind of ceremony hadn't been organized before, and she had attended them, but no one cared about the person who died; what they cared about was what the remaining widow would do—that was always the hot topic for the next few months.

It wasn't as if she didn't know what her reputation was in town, so she might as well not go looking for trouble.

When her father returned from the ceremony, Malèna ate with him, comforted him, told him she could live very well, and left him some money before setting off for home just as it was nearing dinnertime.

Her money, of course, was all given to her by Wang Yan; by comparison, her husband's allowances were truly insignificant. Ever since Wang Yan arrived, Malèna had never worried about money again. It was just that because Wang Yan couldn't show his face, she couldn't always buy expensive things when she went out, but her standard of living was still far above the vast majority of families in Syracuse.

Along the way, her ears were filled with all sorts of gossip, and the gazes of jealous women and covetous men. Of course, there was also no shortage of that boy who kept following her on his bicycle.

Malèna's pace remained the same—neither fast nor slow, very steady. She wasn't affected by any of that; she just walked toward home, where a man was waiting for her.

Wang Yan had nothing to do at home and had made himself a bite to eat at noon. Seeing that dinnertime was approaching and Malèna hadn't returned yet, he simply started busying himself with preparing ingredients, thinking of having a candlelight dinner with her.

When Malèna returned, she saw Wang Yan inside preparing the ingredients.

"Dinner will be a while yet, you go first." It was Wang Yan's turn to say that.

Malèna closed the door, looked at his busy figure, tossed her bag aside, walked step by step behind Wang Yan, and hugged him. She had listened well to Wang Yan's words—she would only be sad for one day; now, she was going to start a new life.

Wang Yan, of course, wouldn't say anything to spoil the mood at a time like this. He turned his head, held Malèna's face, pressed his lips to hers, and began to nibble.

After a long while, they parted. Looking at Malèna, whose face was flushed, whose eyes were like silk, and who couldn't help but twist her body, Wang Yan said softly: "I think dinner time should be pushed back a bit, don't you think, Malèna?"

Malèna's response was very passionate; she wrapped her arms around Wang Yan's neck and continued to nibble.

Wang Yan lowered his head, let her toes step on his feet, walked step by step across the first floor, went up the stairs step by step, and then arrived in Malèna's room, gently laid her on the bed, and met her expectant, shy gaze...

That night, Malèna didn't get to eat the delayed dinner; only Wang Yan made himself something to eat in the middle of the night.

It was Wang Yan again, wearing only a pair of large boxers, sitting by the dining table, eating meat by the dim light of a candle, drinking the whiskey his subordinates had later offered as a tribute, thinking of the uninhibited, constantly demanding, self-releasing Malèna.

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly; it was very wild, very satisfying, and also very moist...