Ye Youchun and He Chao made their way to Zhongtang Village and, after asking a few locals, finally found Xin Miao’s home.
Just as they reached the door, they could hear a commotion inside—voices raised in argument.
Stepping in, they saw a gaunt fulang, presumably the one Su Fulang had mentioned—Xin Miao—clutching a child tightly in his arms amidst a crowd of people.
The child was small, barely a year old, clearly terrified by these people. He didn’t dare cry out loud—only let out tiny, muffled sobs against his father’s chest, his quiet whimpers like those of a newborn kitten. Just hearing it was heartbreaking.
Xin Miao patted the child’s soft back and murmured soothingly, his voice trembling, his eyes red-rimmed. He didn’t dare meet the fierce glares of his wife’s family, and for a moment he had no idea what to do.
Before him stood two imposing women, with two fulang flanking them—all with furrowed brows and eyes fixed on him as if ready to devour him alive.
Xin Miao was terrified. He’d always been timid, and now, cornered like this, he was utterly flustered and panicked. He buried his face in the child’s small, tender neck. When he looked up again, the people were gone.
He couldn’t remember how they’d left—only that two strangers had suddenly appeared and driven them away.
One of them, a ge’er, stood with his hands on his hips, muttering curses toward the now-empty doorway. Beside him was a tall, expressionless woman who looked intimidating—she’d warned that if they came back, they’d be sorry.
Yes, those people had been cowed by her and, after a few words, had dragged each other away.
They’d even brought food and clean cloth for him and the baby. He’d received them with endless gratitude.
Before leaving, they’d asked him if he’d gone to Doctor Sun’s house in town a few days ago to work.
He shook his head. He only remembered taking the baby to the town’s only pharmacy to see a doctor. Everything after that was a blank.
They exchanged a glance, said nothing, and left after setting down the supplies.
Ye Youchun and He Chao didn’t linger after delivering the goods. They headed straight back to Qianwan Village and reported everything they’d seen to their boss.
The moment he got back, He Chao could barely contain himself: “Xin Fulang seemed perfectly lucid—it’s those people who are monsters! Picking on a widower and his child, pushing them to the brink, saying such horrible things—I can’t even repeat them! If we hadn’t shown up in time, they’d have been swallowed alive!”
Ye Youchun’s expression was equally grim—she seemed shaken by the existence of such relatives.
Her own family was poor, famously so in the village, but her relatives were decent folks who helped each other. She’d never seen such wickedness.
Her final verdict was: “He doesn’t seem crazy. He’s normal.”
“So he really doesn’t remember,” Xiu He said, carrying in a teapot to pour Xie Yushu a cup of freshly brewed tea. He couldn’t help adding, “It seems his madness had already taken hold when he went to Doctor Sun’s pharmacy. He probably had no memory at all of working there or stealing from his employer.”
He’d learned about this yesterday and had the same reaction as Su Chi—a hollow ache in his chest that he couldn’t put into words.
Xin Miao’s fate was even harder than his own. A pitiful soul.
But he’d been luckier—he’d met such a good employer. She’d given him and his brother a place to stay, a way to earn a living, and enough to eat. Little Xiuwei had even filled out some, and now talked and laughed more, much more cheerful than before.
Xie Yushu held her teacup in silence, her gaze fixed on the curled green tea leaves unfurling in the hot water, lost in thought.
·
Later, Xie Yushu told Sun Wuyou and Guizhi about Xin Miao.
The two of them were silent for a long time.
They’d never seen anyone so pitiful. They immediately forgave him—not only that, but offered to let him come to the pharmacy for a consultation.
To Sun Wuyou, Xin Miao was simply a patient, and she had great tolerance for patients. Besides, he was kind-hearted, raising an abandoned child as his own. If she insisted on holding a grudge, would she even be human?
She also said that the pharmacy still needed someone for cleaning and sweeping—if he ever found himself in difficulty, he should come to her.
Xie Yushu nodded, saying she’d take her offer into consideration—mainly because her own fulang…
Su Chi had also lost his mother and been mistreated by his wicked aunt’s family. He deeply empathized with Xin Miao’s suffering, able to put himself in his shoes. That was why he was so invested in helping him.
Of course she understood his intentions.
If Xin Miao was truly driven out of the village, Su Chi genuinely wanted to help.
Without a home, alone with a child—what employer in town would take him on?
Sun Wuyou meant well, offering him work at the pharmacy, but she hadn’t considered where he and the child would live.
The only place that could offer both work and shelter was her base yard. And it just so happened she was short-handed. Xin Miao was hardworking—hiring him would be a good fit.
But what if he still wanted to stay in the village? Then she’d be jumping to conclusions.
This was something she’d have to ask Xin Miao himself.
…
The quiet lane had fallen completely silent, save for the two paper lanterns hanging on the Xie family’s gate, swaying in the cold wind as their mottled yellow light spilled across the ground.
Before bed, Su Chi came out of the warm room after wiping himself down, steam still rising from his body. Seeing this, Xie Yushu reached over and pulled open the top drawer of the bedside cabinet, took out the box of osmanthus oil balm, and scooped out a small amount to rub into his hands.
Su Chi sat on the bed and instinctively extended his hands toward her, letting his wife do as she pleased.
His hands, wrists, and the backs of his palms were covered by a large, warm hand. Xie Yushu’s fingers, coated in the osmanthus balm, pressed firmly against his skin, circling round and round, followed by gentle kneading and massage. The light fragrance of osmanthus and oils curled around their noses.
Xie Yushu’s hands were large, easily cradling Su Chi’s slender wrists and enveloping his palms, pressing rhythmically with a faint tingling sensation that made Su Chi chuckle softly.
At some point during the application, Su Chi had nestled into Xie Yushu’s embrace, his back against her chest—warm almost to the point of heat, yet inexplicably reassuring and steady. He pressed his face against his wife’s neck, utterly content, the pleasant sensation making him drowsy.
Before he could fully drift off, his face was gently tilted up, and a cool, white cream—the snowflake balm—was spread across it.
Xie Yushu tirelessly applied it to his face, movements gentle and tender, from chin to the tip of his nose, then to between his brows—covering every inch as if tracing the contours of a treasured artifact.
Su Chi kept his eyes closed, his long lashes fluttering slightly, looking completely pliant and unresisting. Xie Yushu adored him like this; after finishing, she couldn’t help rubbing the tip of her nose against his.
The balm truly worked wonders. After only a short time using it, Su Chi’s face had grown even fairer and softer. The dry marks the wind had left on his skin had completely vanished.
She’d also noticed something adorable about her fulang.
He never said it, but he clearly cared a great deal about his face and hands, faithfully applying the balm morning and night without fail.
Sometimes she’d deliberately tease him, saying he was diligent about it, a vain and fussy fulang. He’d give her a glare that carried no real menace, and she’d hold back her laughter, eagerly coaxing him into her arms, telling him she wished he’d be even more finicky.
Just thinking about it made her heart melt—he was simply too cute.
After the application, it was getting late. Fortunately, Su Chi had already practiced his calligraphy before entering the warm room. Now curled up beside Xie Yushu, he was ready to sleep, his eyelids growing heavy.
The candle was blown out, plunging the room into darkness, silence broken only by their breaths falling against each other’s necks—warm and ticklish, neither willing to move.
Xie Yushu always held Su Chi when she slept. Now, while he was still awake, she whispered in his ear about her plan to have Xin Miao work at her base, asking for his opinion.
This arrangement would help Xin Miao and provide him and the child with a safe, stable place to stay—he could live in the Qingshi courtyard, right next to Xiu He and his brother. While working in the yard, the child would be in a nearby room where he could occasionally check on them. He’d have work and still be able to care for his baby.
After laying out her thoughts, Xie Yushu waited for Su Chi’s response. When he didn’t answer, she thought he’d fallen asleep and leaned closer to his ear: “Hm? Why aren’t you saying—”
Before she could finish the word, a sweet, soft kiss pressed against her from his side—sticky and tender, lingering for a while before pulling away with a soft mwah.
A damp, sweet trace remained at the corner of Xie Yushu’s mouth, carrying the fragrance of osmanthus honey. She froze for a moment.
Recovering, she didn’t hold back. She turned over, cupped the back of Su Chi’s loose-haired head, and returned a deep, lingering kiss with undeniable force—leaving him breathless before she reluctantly withdrew.
She pecked him a few more times, a low sigh rumbling in her throat, as if words were left unspoken. Finally, she simply said: “I understand. I’ll make the arrangements.”
Then she pulled him tightly into her arms and coaxed him to sleep.
Su Chi was left dizzy from the kiss, his brain starved of oxygen. His hands rested lightly on Xie Yushu’s shoulders as he leaned against her, so happy he could cry.
How could she be this good?
He was the one who’d wanted to help Xin Miao, but she’d taken it upon herself and planned everything so thoroughly, thinking of every detail.
Love for her overflowed in his heart, so full he couldn’t help it—he leaned in again to kiss her chin, like an insatiable cat.
Xie Yushu held back the fire building inside her. If she didn’t have to get up early tomorrow, neither of them would sleep tonight.
At her wit’s end, she pressed him firmly by his soft waist, drew him into her arms, and with a straight face and gritted teeth, feigned anger, her voice raspy: “Sleep!”
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