Su Chi leaned toward Xie Yushu’s shoulder, his thin face pressing willingly against her shoulder as he looked up at her with a face full of attachment. In a small, quiet voice, he murmured a soft “okay.”
The scent of the bath beans from both of them mingled together — light and elegant, indistinguishable from each other.
Xie Yushu’s hand remained boldly placed on Su Chi’s waist and abdomen. That spot was impossibly soft — once her hand rested there, she didn’t want to move it.
She quickly leaned down and kissed Su Chi’s tender pink lips. As their lips and teeth met, Su Chi’s two soft arms obediently wrapped around her, offering himself up to her.
Xie Yushu’s heart stirred. She took the opportunity to lift him from the chair, took a few steps to the bed, and laid him down. In no time, she was pressing her whole body against him.
In the midst of their passion, Su Chi seemed to remember something. Forcing himself to sober up a little, he gently pushed Xie Yushu away with both hands. His voice was soft and pleading: “We haven’t practiced writing characters yet today.”
Xie Yushu: …
She froze. It took her a long moment to recover from those words, as if she had gone deaf and couldn’t understand what nonsense her fulang was saying beneath her.
Su Chi grew a little anxious. He raised himself up and took the initiative to plant a kiss at the corner of her mouth, coaxing: “We said we’d write every day…”
Xie Yushu stared at his lips, which she had sucked to a rosy redness. His eyes were still misty with moisture, as if they couldn’t hold any more — like a clear spring welling up. She felt both amused and exasperated — how could anyone say something so utterly out of place at a moment like this?
His whole body had gone soft, and yet he was still thinking about those few lousy characters?
She lowered her head and could only bite him indignantly on his jade-white neck as punishment.
Su Chi felt guilty and endured her insignificant nibbling.
Xie Yushu sighed. “Just a quarter of an hour.” After saying that, she straightened his collar for him and let him get out of bed.
After Su Chi finished his quarter-hour of writing and wiped the ink stains from his hands, he got into bed and wrapped his arms around Xie Yushu, who had her back turned to him. His voice couldn’t have been softer:
“Wife…” His voice was as sweet and soft as a freshly steamed red bean bun, full of flattery.
Xie Yushu remained unmoved, pretending to be asleep.
“Yushu…”
Xie Yushu’s ear twitched slightly.
Her body couldn’t lie — she seemed to really like it when Su Chi called her by name.
Those two words, when spoken by anyone else, were just an ordinary address. But when they fell from Su Chi’s throat, they were filled with intimacy, dependence, and an abundance of love.
Xie Yushu was deeply pleased.
She opened her still-alert eyes, turned around, and pulled Su Chi into her arms in one swift motion.
Su Chi nestled obediently in Xie Yushu’s arms, well-behaved to the point of perfection, letting her do whatever she wanted with him.
That night, the air was still thick with a faint, warm dampness, mingled with the light fragrance of bath beans and something else — along with the mournful howl of the winter wind outside.
By the time the moon had hidden itself away at some point, and even the surrounding clouds had vanished, the blush-inducing sounds from within the room finally faded.
Xie Yushu kissed the flush on Su Chi’s face, tidied him up, and then held him tightly as they fell asleep.
·
Over the next few days, Qian Ai delivered all the firewood she hauled from home straight to the Xie family in Qingshui Lane. The neighbors watched with envious eyes — who, even with money, would live like that?
In their spare time, several fulang would gather together to gossip about other households in the lane — and naturally, they didn’t let the Xie family, who had moved in just a few months ago, escape their notice.
They talked about the firewood seller who had been coming to the lane regularly lately, and how all her firewood these past few days had been bought up entirely by that fulang from the Xie family.
They said that fulang from the Xie family spent money so lavishly — cart after cart of firewood, day after day, as if copper coins meant nothing.
Their words were sour, but their hearts were even sourer — wishing it were their own household with that kind of financial means.
One of the fulang started the topic: “You know that newly opened Su’s Bun Shop on the main street, right? The one with the busiest business? That’s run by that fulang from the Xie family!”
Someone chimed in, their tone dripping with envy: “Oh my, it really is! I went there once — the shopkeeper was him. His food is indeed expensive, and the taste is really good. But it’s strange — he used to be from the village. Where did he learn to make such delicious food?”
Another sharp-eyed fulang said: “What do you suppose that Xie family woman does for a living? She’s never home during the day, yet she set up a shop for her fulang. Their house has meat and fish every single day. Every mealtime, the aroma of stir-fry wafting from their house drives me crazy with hunger. My wife keeps complaining every day that our food isn’t as fragrant as the Xie family’s — well, then give me money to buy meat!”
“I heard they even use firewood to boil hot water for washing things every day!”
“Exactly! I went over to borrow some vinegar the other day, and I saw it with my own eyes — there was always hot water boiling in the big pot in their kitchen!”
A short, stout fulang said with great distress: “What a waste! How can people be so bad at managing a household?”
One of them sighed and said: “How can that person be so lucky? His wife dotes on him so much, his shop business is booming, and his courtyard is so big and beautiful. I just hate that my wife isn’t as capable as that Xie family woman.”
The several fulang chattered on. They were used to gossiping in the lane, and they never held back — saying whatever came to mind, not realizing how sour their words were, their eyes even turning red with envy.
Qian Ai pushed her empty cart, having already delivered the firewood to the Xie family. She walked past this group of gossips without looking sideways, rolling her eyes inwardly.
Su Fulang paid promptly and had no other demands. She loved doing business with the Xie family. These idle, gossipy fulang had nothing better to do than talk about other people’s households every day.
What did it have to do with them how someone else used their courtyard and firewood?
If she ever looked for a fulang in the future, she definitely wouldn’t choose one of those gossips — the kind who had nothing better to do all day than gather together and badmouth others.
Just as she was about to exit the lane, someone called out to her from behind. Qian Ai turned around.
It was the young ge’er from the Hu family. Qian Ai’s eyes lit up, and she trotted over eagerly.
Hu Yuan smiled and said: “I was wondering why I hadn’t heard you calling out in the lane these past few days. So you’ve been delivering firewood to the Xie family.”
He had just returned from buying groceries on the street and happened to see Qian Ai delivering a cartload of firewood to Su Fulang’s house, which was when he understood why she hadn’t been hawking her wares lately.
Qian Ai looked at this young ge’er with his faint smile and suddenly didn’t know where to put her hands and feet. She could only explain awkwardly: “Last time I saw that your house still had plenty of firewood left, so I figured you and your a-niang could use it for a while longer, and I took on business from other families. Is your house running low again?”
Her eager tone suggested that if Hu Yuan said he was short, she would immediately go home and haul another cartload over.
“No, no — it’s just that your firewood is fairly priced and every piece is thick and solid, so I was thinking of buying some more.” Hu Yuan waved his hand.
If anyone who had bought Qian Ai’s firewood heard Hu Yuan say her prices were “fair,” they’d probably spit blood.
Her prices were the highest in town — but the advantage was that every piece of firewood was dense and sturdy, with no hollow pieces or twigs passed off as quality goods. They burned for a long time.
Qian Ai’s smile stretched so wide it threatened to split her face. “Deal. I’ll finish up with Su Fulang in a few days and then come to your house.”
The two settled it, and Qian Ai pushed her cart home.
Hu Yuan carried his vegetable basket on his arm and walked toward home. He hadn’t gone more than a few steps when he heard a familiar voice.
“Yuan-ge’er? What are you doing here? I was just about to go to your house to find you.” Su Chi walked toward him, holding two small, exquisite steamers.
Hu Yuan was flattered. “Su Fulang? What brings you to my house?”
Su Chi smiled with pursed lips. “Nothing much — I just made some soup dumplings and thought I’d bring some for you and Aunt Hu.”
“This—this is too kind of you!” Hu Yuan caught the aroma of wheat and said awkwardly.
“It’s nothing. We’re neighbors.”
The two chatted as they walked toward the Hu household, and they arrived before long.
It was still a while before the midday meal, and Aunt Hu wasn’t home yet. Hu Yuan wasn’t in a rush to cook and decided to eat a couple of the soup dumplings Su Chi had brought to tide him over.
But after one bite — oh, this was incredible!
He had heard rumors around the lane about Su Chi’s exceptional cooking skills, but he’d always thought they were just polite words between neighbors. After tasting this today, he realized those people had been far too conservative in their praise.
It wasn’t just good cooking — it was like the god of cuisine had descended to earth.
The soup dumplings were much smaller than regular buns — a man could finish one in two bites, or even one bite if he wanted.
The thin skin burst open at the gentlest bite, and the savory broth inside spilled out eagerly. It was a little hot, but still so fresh that Hu Yuan’s eyes narrowed in pleasure.
The meat filling — he really didn’t know how Su Fulang had prepared it — had no gamey taste at all, with just the right saltiness. The small meatball was especially tender, with a faint sweetness as he chewed. After finishing one, he couldn’t help reaching for the next.
Seeing how much Hu Yuan was enjoying them, Su Chi reminded him: “They’re even better dipped in vinegar.”
“Oh, oh, right, right.” After eating two, Hu Yuan casually grabbed the vinegar pitcher on the table, tore open the skin of a soup dumpling, and poured the vinegar directly inside.
He swallowed it in one bite and shook his head with delight, nodding frantically at Su Chi as if he had just tasted the most exquisite delicacy in the world.
Su Chi stood to the side, a bit stunned by his behavior. He’d never seen anyone eat them this way — Yuan-ge’er’s vinegar-dipping style seemed a little wild.
Didn’t everyone pour vinegar into a small dish and eat elegantly? Who would pour vinegar directly onto the food?
This young ge’er from the Hu family was truly something else. Su Chi couldn’t help but curl his lips — it was actually quite amusing.
Before leaving, Su Chi borrowed a jar of vinegar to take home.
When Aunt Hu returned, she found her usually reserved and refined son eating with pure delight. The moment he saw her, he waved happily: “A-niang, come quick and try these! Su Fulang brought soup dumplings — so, so, so delicious!”
“Mother, dip them in vinegar.” Hu Yuan handed her the vinegar pitcher.
Aunt Hu ate one without saying a word, then silently finished the entire steamer, dipping each one in vinegar.
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