Her Marriage: The Night is Still Young-Chapter 172: I Can’t Sleep

Josephine frowned, "Stop it, don’t talk nonsense anymore."

Julian Grant awkwardly smiled, "Hehe~, I’m not talking nonsense! Just wait and see, you’ll definitely marry me in the future."

Josephine felt choked with anger, "This is really speechless."

Julian was even more speechless, sulking as he said, "I’m the one who’s speechless. With such an outstanding guy like me in the world, what part of me do you not like? Why do you keep rejecting me?"

"There you go again. Stop joking like that, I really won’t talk to you anymore."

"I’m not joking."

"Alright, alright, I won’t say anymore. Just take your luggage and move to the dorm next door."

Julian looked very reluctant, "I’m not going, I want to live with you."

Josephine said, "It’s inconvenient for a man and a woman to live together, stop making a fuss."

"I already said, I’ll sleep on the floor."

"That’s still not okay." While speaking, Josephine lifted his luggage and pushed him out the door.

Julian said, "Josephine, don’t kick me out! I really don’t like living with another man, I already said I’ll sleep on the floor..."

"That’s still not okay."

As Josephine pushed him towards the dorm next door, she said, "Do you think this is your villa? Sleep wherever you want? Lynch has already made room for you. If you keep making a fuss, you’ll really be a rascal."

Julian was pushed back a couple of steps by her.

He clung to the doorframe, unwilling to let go, his brows knitted together like a twisted rope, "But what if he snores? What if he rolls over at night and crushes me? At home, I sleep in a large bedroom all by myself..."

Before he could finish speaking.

He saw Josephine raise her hand as if to knock on his arm, and he quickly withdrew his hand but still mumbled, "Then can I sleep at the door? Guarding your container doorstep, I’ll keep the bugs away for you."

Josephine was so annoyed by him that she simply put his luggage on the ground, "Julian, if you keep this up, I’ll have Captain Zimmerman send you back to the city tomorrow."

Sure enough, that worked.

Julian’s reluctant expression stiffened, and he pressed his lips together without saying another word.

But his gaze was still stuck on Josephine, like a large dog refused entry by its owner, looking pitifully wronged.

Josephine glanced at the light shining from the container next door and softened her tone a bit: "Be good, go get some rest first. You have to work at eight tomorrow morning, and if you’re not in high spirits, no one will cover for you."

Only then did Julian slowly bend down, pick up his luggage, and after taking a couple of steps, turn back, "Then... shall I come to call you in the morning? I’ll bring you breakfast?"

"No need, Uncle Lewis will deliver breakfast at seven," Josephine waved her hand. Seeing him still standing there motionless, she simply reached out and gave him a push on the back, "Go quickly!"

Watching him dejectedly move toward the next door.

Josephine closed the door, leaned against the door panel, and let out a sigh of relief.

Hope he can’t endure it for a couple of days.

And surely, he’ll make a fuss about going back home.

...

A little later.

Julian arrived at the adjacent container.

Opened the door.

As usual.

Still a simple little bed with a mosquito net, even more empty than Josephine’s room.

Julian found nowhere to place himself, sneered, "Zizz, is this a place for humans to live? Even a dog wouldn’t stay here."

To be honest.

If it weren’t for Josephine.

In this godforsaken place, even eight palanquins wouldn’t bring him here.

Shane Lynch returned to the dorm after washing the dishes.

Seeing Julian, he nonchalantly greeted him, "Hello, Mr. Grant."

"Hello, where am I sleeping?"

"Captain Zimmerman already spoke to me, I’ll set up a bed for you on the side in a bit."

"..." Julian sulkily pursed his lips and placed his backpack on the bed.

Shane didn’t say much more.

After placing down the lunch box, he went to the storeroom to fetch a small folding bed.

He spread it open and found a set of sheets and a pillow for him.

Julian looked at the flimsy folding bed, glanced at Shane’s old wooden bed nearby, and his eyebrows knitted so tight they could kill mosquitoes.

He reached out to poke the bed board, "Is this bed... sturdy? What if it collapses in the middle of the night?"

Shane Lynch was bending over, laying the sheets, and without lifting his head, he said, "Rest assured, little Warren, who weighs two hundred pounds, slept on it before, and it didn’t break." He placed the pillow at the end of the bed and, upon straightening up, he glanced at the brand-name backpack Julian still hadn’t put down, "You can just leave your stuff, there’s no much formality here."

Julian uttered an "Oh."

Reluctantly placed his backpack at the foot of the bed but complained about the dusty floor, inching his feet closer to the bed edge.

He surveyed the room: besides two beds, there were just a few toolboxes piled in the corner, not even a chair to sit on, and he couldn’t help but grumble, "There’s not even a bottle of water?"

Shane Lynch poured a glass of cold boiled water from his military canteen and handed it over, "There’s only this, drink it if you don’t mind."

Julian looked at the water cup tinged with a bit of rust and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

His usual drinking water was the thousand-plus per bottle glacier mineral water, the lowest being Evian from Silmara.

Having him drink cold boiled water!

Might as well die of thirst.

"It’s so stuffy and hot. How can you even fall asleep?"

Shane Lynch wore an indifferent expression, "... It cools down in the middle of the night."

Julian remembered that Josephine’s room at least had a small fan, and compared to this room that didn’t even have a fan.

To win the beauty’s heart, he was really enduring endless suffering.

Shane, as if seeing through his thoughts, wiped his face with a towel, and calmly said, "When little Thompson first arrived, she wasn’t used to a lot of things either."

"See now, she’s fully adapted."

Julian hesitated, lifting his gaze to Shane, "She... is it hard for her?"

"Archaeology is never easy."

Shane sat on his bed, with the bed board creaking, "But she’s willing."

"This is also her ambition."

Julian said nothing, lowering his head to pick at the wood splinters on the bed edge.

Suddenly, he recalled the gentle light in Josephine’s eyes filled with helplessness when she pushed him out earlier.

She could stay here for six months.

Why couldn’t he?

He wanted to prove it to her.

This time, he’s serious. For her, he’s willing to do anything.

"Get some sleep. You’ll need to be up early tomorrow," Shane said lightly. Then, taking off his coat, he got ready for bed.

Night gradually deepened.

The incessant chirping of insects outside grew louder and louder.

Julian lay on the folding bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. The bed frame poked painfully into his back, and he couldn’t fully stretch out his legs.

It was an agony like torture.

Beside him, Shane Lynch’s breathing gradually grew deeper.

While he didn’t snore, Julian just wasn’t used to having someone nearby.

He fished out his phone. The screen lit up, and his assistant’s number was right at the top of the contact list. He stared at it for a long while, his fingertip hovering over the dial button, only to find out there was no signal.

"For Josephine, no matter how hard it is, I must persevere..." he muttered to himself softly, pulling the thin blanket up a bit.

The moonlight outside sifted through the cracks in the metal sheets, casting a thin shadow on the ground.

Strangely, he felt somewhat at ease.

At least, he wasn’t that far from her.

...

Barely made it to midnight.

The sweat on his body was drying.

The temperature in the mountains dropped suddenly, and now he was shivering from the cold.

And to make things worse.

He hadn’t eaten dinner, and now his stomach was growling.

As if that wasn’t enough.

It seemed he had eaten something wrong, and now he needed to use the bathroom.

"Hey~"

"Where’s the toilet?" Julian Grant could not hold it in any longer and had to wake Shane.

Shane Lynch was groggy from sleep, casually pointed outside the door, "For number one, just use the corner of the wall. For number two, head to the little grove!"

"Hah??" Julian Grant’s hair stood on end, utterly bewildered.

"Just go, hurry."

Julian Grant stared wide-eyed, thinking he’d misheard: "A little grove? In the pitch dark like that?"

Shane, annoyed by the disturbance, rubbed his eyes and mumbled, "What else can you do? There’s no proper toilet here. Everyone gets by like this. If you’re scared, take a flashlight."

As he spoke, he fumbled under the pillow and tossed over an old flashlight, "Just press the middle button."

Julian Grant gripped the cold flashlight, his hands trembling.

In all his life, his facilities ranged from temperature-controlled bathrooms to portable toilets cleaned by staff. Where would he have encountered a little grove for such matters?

Just the thought of those crawling bugs made his scalp tingle.

Yet he couldn’t withstand the pressure in his belly anymore. Gritting his teeth, he clutched the flashlight and got off the bed.

He pushed the door open.

The night wind made him shiver, as the mountain chill wrapped in the scent of grass made its way into his collar.

He turned on the flashlight, its beam flickering in the dark. It illuminated a few scurrying bugs in the corner, making him hurry away.

The grove wasn’t far from the dormitory, but with each step, he felt something crawling underfoot.

Gripping the flashlight tightly, he kept the beam trained ahead, not daring to look back, cursing himself over and over.

"Julian Grant, oh Julian Grant, what are you after! Leaving the villa behind to suffer like this!"

But then he thought.

Josephine Thompson had been living here for six months, she probably had gotten used to it by now. If he couldn’t even handle this, how could he talk about being with her?

With that thought, he steeled himself and went into the grove.

Just as he found a somewhat secluded tree, he heard a rustling in the nearby bushes, nearly dropping the flashlight in fright.

When he realized it was just a little hedgehog curled up there, he finally breathed a sigh of relief, but his back was already covered in cold sweat.

After floundering for quite some time, he hurried back. Reaching the container door, he noticed that the lights in Josephine’s room were already off, feeling a slight relief—at least he hadn’t disturbed her.

Tiptoeing back onto the folding bed, he wrapped the thin blanket tightly around himself. His stomach was still empty, his back still uncomfortable, but the earlier grievances suddenly felt less pressing.

He took out his phone and glanced at the screen in the faint glow, still no signal.

"Tomorrow... have to find a way to get something to eat," he mumbled as his eyelids became heavier.

This time, he didn’t toss and turn, soon dozing off in a blur.

...

Early the next morning.

Just as the sky was getting light, Julian Grant was awakened by the discomfort in his stomach.

Last night, he’d only taken care of the small issue in the grove. Now, his internal organs felt twisted in pain.

He rubbed his belly and sat up, seeing Shane already up and packing, quickly hoarse-voiced asking, "Lynch, today... is there a somewhat ’proper’ toilet?"

Shane was pouring cold water into a kettle, and without looking up, said, "Captain Zimmerman said there’s a new pit toilet set up in the hollow on the west side. It’s better than the grove, wanna go?"

Julian Grant didn’t care how much "better" it was, just nodding furiously: "Go! Of course, go!"

He followed Shane toward the hollow.

The closer they got, the more something seemed off. The wind carried a nameless acrid stench, mixed with the odor of dirt and rotting grass, making his nose crinkle.

As they rounded a half-built earth wall.

When the so-called "pit toilet" was fully revealed in front of him.

He came to an abrupt halt, his stomach roiling up at once.

It wasn’t a toilet at all, just a deep pit dug into the ground, surrounded by a few broken wooden boards. The gaps between the boards were stained with dark muck, and fat flies crawled along the edges, buzzing about.

The stench was tenfold stronger than last night’s earthy smell in the grove, invading his nostrils.

"This... this is for people?" Julian Grant took two steps back, his face turning pale instantly, his stomach in turmoil, quickly covering his mouth as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, but he couldn’t stop it, "Ugh—"

A dry heave he couldn’t suppress, tears welled up from choking.

The most rudimentary place he’d ever been was a suburban farmhouse, but even there, the bathroom had tiles and flushing. Never had he seen such an open-air dirt pit!

Just looking at the stains on the wood gave him goosebumps, he didn’t even dare approach.

Shane saw his reaction and didn’t mock him, calmly saying, "If it’s too dirty, go back to the grove. No one’s forcing you."

Julian Grant shook his head while covering his mouth, his stomach still churning, but he couldn’t bear the pressure in his belly any longer.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, bracing himself to step forward. No sooner had he lifted his foot when he glimpsed a sowbug crawling by the pit’s edge, making him recoil instantly, retching again, "Ugh... I can’t, I really..."

Before he could finish.

He turned and dashed into the nearby bushes, crouching on the ground, dry heaving for quite a while. Nothing came up, only sourness continuously surging into his throat.

He fished out a tissue from his pocket to wipe his mouth.

He couldn’t have imagined the day would come where relieving himself would be a problem, and in such a place.

Shane waited beside him for a moment. Seeing Julian unable to recover, he tossed over a bottle of water: "Rinse your mouth. It’s just how it is here. When Josephine first came, she had an even bigger reaction, threw up here for ten minutes, but clenched her teeth and endured."

He was feeling terribly sick.

Josephine Thompson opened her room and came out.

"Josephine..." Julian Grant felt like he was about to crumble, his voice carried a sobbing tone.

Seeing the situation, Josephine thought something serious had happened, "What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

"...Ugh!" Julian Grant thought again of the pit toilet’s ’gunk,’ unable to stop another retch.

Following his gaze, Josephine glanced at the pit toilet not far away, catching a whiff of its acrid odor, immediately understanding.

She frowned slightly but didn’t call him spoiled, only taking a small bottle of mint-flavored mouthwash from her canvas bag and handing it over: "Rinse your mouth, it’ll make you feel better."

Julian Grant took the mouthwash, his fingers trembling, unscrewed the cap, and rinsed a couple of times. The minty freshness numbed his nasal passages, slightly calming the turmoil in his stomach.

He looked up at Josephine, his eyes red, nose tingling as if he’d suffered a great injustice: "Josephine, do you... use this every day?"

Josephine didn’t shy away, nodding: "It was hard to accept at first, but we get so busy we hardly notice. Conditions in the archaeology team are as such, having any covering is already fortunate."

She paused, seeing he still looked pale, added, "If really necessary, I can ask Captain Zimmerman to find a cleaner disposable toilet seat for you. Though it’s troublesome, it might help."

But Julian Grant shook his head, clutching the mouthwash bottle tighter. He just remembered what Shane had said about Josephine puking for ten minutes but enduring it. If he accepted her kindness now, wouldn’t that make him less capable than her?

He sniffed, stiffened his neck, and said, "No need! I can handle it!"