By noon, the sun was blazing, its rays scorching hot against the skin.
Lin Aiyun and Ma Xiulan had managed to haul several large bundles back to the small house. There was no water inside, so they headed to the kitchen and each downed a large cup of water to quench their thirst.
“Couldn’t turn them down, no matter what—they were just too warm-hearted.” Lin Aiyun slumped into a chair, her gaze landing on the pile of odds and ends scattered across the table. She chuckled and shook her head.
“No kidding—I was shocked too.” Ma Xiulan agreed.
The villagers were simple folk: whoever treated them well, they’d treat well in return. They rarely got to see Boss Xiao in person, but today they’d caught his young companion—of course they’d shower her with hospitality.
“Do you want to take some of this home? There’s so much—we can’t possibly finish it all.”
Ma Xiulan had worked hard carrying the bundles all the way here. It didn’t sit right with Lin Aiyun to let her go back empty-handed.
“I couldn’t possibly take any. If people found out, I’d be skewered by gossip. Aiyun, you should rest—I’ll head back now.” Ma Xiulan waved her hands frantically and, without another word, scurried off.
“Don’t you want to rest a bit longer?”
“No need. I’ll come see you again tomorrow.”
Lin Aiyun walked her to the path and watched until she disappeared around the corner before turning back to the kitchen. She fetched a basin of water to wipe off the sweat, then went to her room to apply the ointment before taking an afternoon nap.
But the heat was stifling, and she couldn’t sleep soundly. Every rustle outside made her open her eyes to check that all was well.
She endured until nearly dinnertime, when voices finally came from outside—Guan Ju and Qiuqiu. Lin Aiyun sat up, put on her shoes and socks, and hurried to the kitchen in a few quick steps.
“Aiyun-mei, what’s all this?” Guan Ju was equally surprised to see the table laden with goods.
Lin Aiyun explained everything that had happened that day.
“Aiyun-jie, this is for you too—I picked it myself.” Qiuqiu waited patiently for the adults to finish talking, then proudly presented the bamboo basket she’d been carrying.
In Qiuqiu’s eyes, the dragon-head fern was the most delicious thing in season. She’d been itching to run back and let her sister try some.
“Wow, thank you, Qiuqiu. Let’s all eat them together tonight, okay?” Lin Aiyun took the basket and gently patted Qiuqiu’s head. The girl shyly pressed her lips together, then nodded, her big eyes brimming with joy.
Children were innocent, but Guan Ju caught the implication—Lin Aiyun was inviting them to dinner. She couldn’t possibly agree, but a direct refusal would be awkward. So she said tactfully: “Qiuqiu, didn’t we tell Grandma we’d be back for dinner?”
“Oh, right.” Qiuqiu’s little face scrunched up in distress, her gaze bouncing between Lin Aiyun and her mother, unsure what to do.
“Sister Guan, look at all this food. It’s too hot—it won’t keep, and it’d be a waste to let it spoil. That’d be letting down the villagers’ kindness. Why don’t we all cook a good meal together and share it?” This was the idea Lin Aiyun had come up with while lying in bed.
“Well…” Guan Ju hesitated, but Lin Aiyun’s repeated coaxing finally won her over.
It was getting late, so the two women got to work. With clear division of labor and efficient hands, neither of them dawdled—before long, the kitchen was filled with the aroma of cooking.
Though Qiuqiu was young, children in poor families learned early to help out. She was told to go play, but she kept running back to wash vegetables and pass things. Her obedience and maturity were heart-wrenching.
When the meal was almost ready, Lin Aiyun sent Qiuqiu to fetch Ma Xiulan from the village. The girl took off at a run.
Cold dressed dragon-head ferns, spicy and sour potato shreds, stir-fried green beans, chili-fried pork, tofu-braised grass carp, potato-stewed chicken, twice-cooked pork… A dazzling array of dishes covered the table—colorful, fragrant, and mouthwatering. It was the kind of feast even the New Year rarely saw.
“Aiyun-mei, your cooking is wonderful!” Guan Ju tasted the twice-cooked pork and praised her sincerely.
Lin Aiyun smiled modestly: “Not at all—it’s an honor to have your approval.”
They chatted and laughed, and soon Qiuqiu and Ma Xiulan arrived. Shortly after came Xiao Cheng and his party, just down from the mountain. They carried the lingering smell of the pig farm and needed to wash up first, so the others sat by the kitchen door chatting while they waited.
Before the sun set, everyone was finally seated at the table.
Lin Aiyun served each person a generous bowl of white rice. Dongzi helped pass the bowls to the table, sneaking glances at her like she was some rare treasure. After being stared at for so long, she could no longer pretend not to notice. Feeling awkward, she asked:
“Is there something on my face?”
At that, everyone turned to look at them—Dongzi included.
Dongzi instinctively glanced at Xiao Cheng and met his dark, brooding stare. He flinched and stammered: “N-no, nothing.”
He was just curious about what the sister-in-law really looked like. He’d glimpsed her a few times before and knew she was beautiful, but he’d never seen her fully head-on. Today was the first time he got a clear look—and he couldn’t help but stare.
She wore the same blue cotton clothes as any village woman—plain and ordinary—yet on her, they carried a unique charm. Dongzi couldn’t quite put his finger on it; he just thought she was stunning. (What he didn’t know was that future generations would call this phenomenon: “The completion of fashion depends on the face.”)
Her thick hair was braided and draped over her chest—not slicked back tight like other girls, but loosely woven, with plenty of volume, giving her a youthful, effortlessly lazy look. Her small, oval face was fair and smooth, like a peeled egg.
No wonder Brother Cheng had been spending all his time in that little county. If it were him, he’d stay indoors for half a month without stepping out.
Damn—he kind of wanted to steal her away from Brother Cheng.
That thought had barely surfaced when a hand landed on his shoulder. He turned his head—and there he was, right beside him. Dongzi flashed a guilty grin: “Brother Cheng.”
“Sit down. Eat.” Three simple words, but Dongzi felt his tone twist through half a dozen shades.
“Right away.” Dongzi deftly handed out bowls of rice to everyone at the table, then obediently took his seat.
Xiao Cheng watched him with a half-smile, and only when Dongzi had settled down did he take the remaining bowls from Lin Aiyun, murmuring softly: “You worked hard.”
She shook her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes: “Not really—we got to enjoy this feast today all thanks to you, Boss Xiao.”
Hearing “Boss Xiao” come from her lips was a novelty.
With Xiao Cheng at the table, the mood was stiff at first. No one dared joke around or laugh too freely. And the food smelled so good it made everyone’s mouths water—so they all focused on their bowls.
But by the second half, after everyone had eaten their fill, the atmosphere lightened, led by Lin Aiyun and Qiuqiu. Even Xiao Cheng chimed in from time to time, showing no signs of displeasure, and the conversation grew increasingly lively.
“Sister-in-law, do you have any sisters around your age?”
Dongzi had been holding that question in all night and finally seized the chance to ask. He stared nervously, biting his chopsticks, hoping for a good answer. But when she shook her head, his whole demeanor drooped like a frostbitten eggplant. He let out a long, heavy sigh.
His exaggerated reaction made everyone laugh.
“My parents only had me and my younger brother.”
Xiao Cheng glanced over. Jiang Yan’s investigation had covered Lin Aiyun’s family background thoroughly, so he already knew about her siblings—but hearing her say it herself carried a different weight.
With that thought, he leaned in close to her ear and murmured: “I have a younger sister too. I’ll introduce you next time.”
Lin Aiyun turned to look at him. The sister he mentioned must be Xiao Juan. In her previous life, they’d been the closest of friends—no secrets between them. She wondered how their relationship would unfold in this life. But no matter what, she looked forward to meeting her.
“Alright.” She smiled, pressing her lips together, then feigned curiosity: “How much younger is she? Where is she now?”
Xiao Cheng poured a glass of water and set it beside her hand before answering slowly: “Just two years younger than me. She’s always been in the capital.”
“Oh, I see.” That meant it would be a while before she could meet her.
Watching her sip the water in small, delicate mouthfuls, Xiao Cheng’s gaze shifted. He wanted to ask if she’d be willing to return to the capital with him. But with so many people still around, it wasn’t the right moment. He swallowed the question. No hurry—there’d be time.
At some point, Dongzi had produced several jars of liquor and started rallying everyone to drink until they dropped. Even a passing dog got a couple of glasses poured down its throat.
The commotion didn’t die down until the moon hung high in the treetops.
“Could you see them home?” Lin Aiyun looked at Dongzi, who was too drunk to tell north from south, and felt a headache coming on. Fortunately, the others had only had a little—their faces were flushed, but they were fine to make their own way back.
Zhou Jin nodded, supporting most of Dongzi’s weight with one arm.
“We’ll clean up together tomorrow—it’s too late tonight. Sister Guan, you should head back too.”
Guan Ju didn’t argue. She nodded, lifted Qiuqiu—who had fallen asleep at the table—and carried her home.
“Xiaolan, come find me a little later tomorrow. Sleep in.”
Ma Xiulan agreed, took a kerosene lamp, and left with the others.
Once everyone was gone, Lin Aiyun began to feel the effects of the alcohol. She’d been in high spirits tonight and had indulged in a couple extra glasses. Her head was spinning, but she wasn’t completely gone.
Xiao Cheng, who’d drunk as much as Dongzi, seemed unfazed. He was standing under the eaves, smoking. When he saw her turn back from the path, he stubbed out his cigarette and came over. Taking in her face, he frowned: “Are you drunk?”
He’d been watching—only three glasses. He hadn’t expected her tolerance to be so low.
She shook her head, insisting she wasn’t. And besides, the weather was hot and she’d sweated all day—there was no way she could sleep without washing up. Even if she tried, she wouldn’t rest easy.
“There’s hot water in the pot. I need to take a bath.”
“You can wash up tomorrow morning. Go rest for now?” He steadied her arm—otherwise, with her unsteady steps, she’d have taken a nasty fall on the stairs.
“No. I’m going to wash. No bath, no sleep!”
“…” Stubborn little thing—did she really think he couldn’t handle her?
“Just let me wash, okay?”
At some point, her hand had found his fingertips. Her big, deer-like eyes gazed up at him, pitiful and pleading. Her chin lifted, her red lips pouting, her long braid brushing against his arm—tickling, teasing. Soon, the veins beneath his skin began to bulge, betraying the turmoil within him.
“Sit still. I’ll draw the bathwater for you.”
When had Xiao Cheng ever done such a servant’s task? Yet he moved with surprising ease, entirely willing.
He settled her into a chair, then ladled hot water into the wooden tub, mixing in cold until the temperature was just right. He carried it into the bath chamber and set it up.
Standing there, he wrinkled his nose in distaste. He’d never minded it when he used it himself, but now everything felt wrong. Too shabby—just a few planks of wood, barely any space, not even a lamp.
He felt cramped just standing inside.
He really needed to wrap things up quickly and get them out of here.
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