After the big scene at the village chief’s house, Su Chi and the Su Ping family had effectively cut ties. There would be less contact from now on.
Su Chi had never wanted anything to do with them anyway. It was mainly Su Ping and Cai Zhi who were furious—they’d made threats, saying they’d never set foot in Su Chi’s house again, to avoid being laughed at.
The news of the Su Ping family sponging off Su Chi spread like wind through every corner of Qingluo Village. Suddenly, many villagers learned just how despicable the couple really was—constantly begging for things from Su Chi’s house.
Su Chi had to get up before dawn to run his stall, and his father was bedridden, desperately in need of money for medicine. How could they bring themselves to take from him?
To treat a relative that way—they were truly the first family in the village to sink so low.
The only one people felt sorry for was Su Sheng—such a good young man, wasted on that family.
Many unmarried women in the village had previously had their eyes on Su Sheng, thinking he had a good temperament and was gentle—marrying him would surely mean a comfortable life.
But with parents like his, what if after marriage they constantly demanded handouts? Or worse, what if the couple showed up uninvited to take things? No one had much to spare—who could afford to support another family like that?
Some had also set their sights on Meng Dongxue, but the Meng family was well-off and had high standards. They couldn’t meet his parents’ expectations, and there was no point in humiliating themselves by trying to marry into the Meng family.
What they didn’t know was that Su Ping and Cai Zhi looked down on these village women. They thought their Sheng-ge’er was good enough to marry into a wealthy household in town—these women were nothing but wishful dreamers.
Su Sheng maintained a gentle, obedient, easygoing front, but secretly he despised these people too. Especially when they looked at him with those eager, fawning eyes—it made him want to vomit.
This embarrassing affair had turned their family into a major topic of gossip.
Many villagers who used to greet him warmly now only nodded vaguely or deliberately avoided him. Some of the young men he’d been close with tried to comfort him, saying it was his parents’ fault, not his, and that he shouldn’t dwell on it—but others had quietly distanced themselves.
In the past, Su Sheng would have been anxious—his carefully cultivated image was crumbling because of his family.
But these past few days, he’d made peace with it. These rumors could only stir up trouble within the village. His sights were set elsewhere.
A wealthy woman from town—one who could give him a comfortable, prosperous life—that was the wife he truly wanted.
And if this family scandal had cut off the village women’s hopes, then so be it. He was glad for the peace.
Su Chi, meanwhile, had no time to care about the favorable gossip now spreading about him. He just quietly went about his life.
Only one small matter had been nagging at him: the handkerchief Xie Yushu had given him.
He’d washed it carefully right away. But that day, his aunt and uncle’s words had stirred up painful memories of his mother, and he’d let her see him at his most vulnerable. He was too embarrassed to return it in person, so he’d kept it by his bedside.
Handkerchiefs were usually personal items carried by men—he hadn’t expected a woman to be so thoughtful.
She really was different from other women, who tended to be rough and careless.
He was running low on chili powder for his bun fillings. In the kitchen, he took out a bag from the cabinet and pulled out a handful of dried chilies he’d sun-dried a while ago.
The bright red, plump fresh chilies had shriveled and dehydrated through sun and air. He ground them into fine powder with a mortar, refilling a jar.
With several crisp cracks, the dried chili segments shattered into powder, the spicy aroma bursting against the smooth inner walls of the mortar.
The stone pestle and mortar met with a rhythmic thump-thump-thump. Su Chi’s mind wandered as he worked, silently recalling the first time he’d met Xie Yushu.
That incident when she’d brushed his palm while paying—now he thought it might have been a misunderstanding. He’d overreacted.
She’d never had any ill intentions toward him—he’d been too sensitive.
They’d grown close lately. Through all this time together, he’d come to see her as a genuinely good person, unlike any he’d met before.
Far from the frivolous, improper person he’d once imagined, Xie Yushu had always treated him with respect—never crossing any lines. She was warm-hearted and kind.
It had all been a misunderstanding.
The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became. His grip on the pestle unconsciously tightened.
—
These past few days, Xie Yushu had been going back and forth between town and the village. She also kept buying buns from Su Chi’s stall—several times, in fact. Each time, he refused to take her money, so she saved up the coins and left them on his table after he’d closed up and gone home.
Su Chi would see the copper coins on the table but had no way to return them.
Xie Yushu had also been spending time in Qianwan Village. She first took Ye Youchun to meet He Chao at the ferry, so the two of them could serve as her eyes and ears there.
He Chao had told her earlier that the inland merchant would be back in a while. But she didn’t have a large drying space or enough workers yet, so she had to make do with drying kelp at Aunt Hong San’s place, trying to stock up before the merchant returned.
It wasn’t that she could only sell to that particular merchant—she was just mindful that He Chao had already made a promise to her. In business, trust came first. Xie Yushu had always understood that.
He Chao’s small yard had also been requisitioned. The kelp was supplied by Aunt Hong San—she was better at selecting it than He Chao—and she came by from time to time to check on the drying progress.
Xie Yushu also had He Chao’s father help with the drying, and she would pay him a share afterward.
The He family had refused to take any money at first—they were just glad to help. How could they take money from their savior?
In the end, it was He Chao who agreed. He understood Xie Yushu’s nature well enough to know that if they refused payment, she’d probably stop associating with them altogether.
He knew Miss Xie was trying to help them out of kindness, so he’d just work even harder for her.
Xie Yushu appreciated He Chao’s diligence and drive.
Another capable assistant added to her team.
When she finally finished her errands and got home, she found two dishes and a soup steaming on the table, along with a bowl of rice.
After a brief moment of confusion, she knew—Su Chi had come by.
No one else would bother entering this rundown old house.
Sure enough, the next moment, Su Chi walked in carrying a bundle of clothes.
Seeing her home, his expression softened slightly. “When you weren’t back yet, I noticed the clothes you’d hung out in the yard had fallen. I took them back, washed them again, and brought them over. You eat first—I’ll hang them up for you.”
Xie Yushu felt a warm flush creep up her ears, a little flustered. He’d even washed her clothes for her?
She looked at him. “I’m really sorry to trouble you.”
Su Chi shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
The wind had been strong today—many people’s laundry had blown down. He’d just happened to notice hers.
Then a thought struck her—it was still daytime. Wasn’t he worried about being seen coming to her house?
As if reading her mind, Su Chi explained, “At this hour, no one’s coming down from the mountain, so there’s no reason for anyone to pass by here. I was very careful coming over—no one saw me.” There was even a hint of quiet pride in his voice.
Xie Yushu looked at the spread on the table and felt a little embarrassed. “You… you made me dinner again?”
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to eat his cooking—she’d eat it every day if she could. She just didn’t want to put him out. He was so soft-hearted and easygoing—if she asked, he’d surely agree.
But she felt bad about it. He already worked so hard at his stall every day, and then he had to take care of her meals too. It didn’t sit right with her.
She’d have offered him money, but she knew he’d refuse.
All the people she’d met here were so kind—they kept refusing her money, and she had to force it on them.
“I noticed you’ve been coming home late these past few days. When would you have time to cook? I just made a little extra and brought it over. Besides, Father and I can’t finish everything anyway.”
He didn’t know what Xie Yushu was busy with every day, but he trusted her. She was so capable—it must be something important.
The dishes were served in coarse porcelain bowls: a plate of stir-fried pickled cabbage with lard, a plate of green chili peppers fried with eggs, and a medium bowl of shrimp and winter melon soup.
The dried shrimp in the soup were usually reserved for Wang Wen’s nourishment, but tonight Su Chi had set aside a bit for Xie Yushu.
The pickled cabbage was homemade. Su Chi had washed large mustard leaves, layered them tightly in a pickling jar, covered them with warm rice water, and weighed them down with a smooth stone before sealing the jar for several days.
The finished pickled cabbage was pale yellow and crisp, not dark or dull. He cut it into thin shreds and stir-fried it with lard over high heat—a perfect accompaniment to rice.
The surface glistened with a glossy layer of oil. The cabbage had softened, and even before tasting, a deep, rich sour aroma filled the air—not sharp, but thick enough to make your mouth water.
The sourness was clean and appetizing, mingled with the fragrance of lard. Each grain of rice clung to the oil-slicked shreds of cabbage, growing more savory with every chew. You could finish two bowls of rice just with this dish alone.
The green peppers were from his own garden, the eggs from his own hens. The eggs were fried to a golden crisp, the peppers blistered like tiger skin, carrying an indescribable smoky, wok-heated flavor.
The winter melon soup was light and refreshing, with a few precious dried shrimp floating on top—just the thing to cool the heat of summer.
Su Chi finished hanging Xie Yushu’s clothes on the drying line. Seeing her sit down obediently to eat, he turned to leave.
But just as he took a step, Xie Yushu seemed to want to say something. She instinctively reached out and caught his wrist.
The sleeves of summer clothing were short, so her hand wrapped fully around his wrist. Skin met skin.
Her warm palm easily encircled his slender wrist. Through the thin layer of skin, the feel of his wrist bone was vivid against her palm.
Very thin—but very soft.
Perhaps because he’d just washed her clothes with water, his wrist was cool to the touch, like a smooth, cool piece of jade bamboo.
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