In mid-April, the spring sunlight lay in a thin, gentle layer—just warm enough to be pleasant, not too hot, with a lazy comfort.
In the courtyard, the old willow had sprouted tender green buds. Su Chi had strung a clothesline across the open space, now covered with quilts and freshly washed sheets. The breeze made the willow branches sway lazily, and the sun-warmed bedding bumped together, releasing the faint scent of soapberry through the Xie household’s yard.
The courtyard gate was closed from inside. Su Chi carried a basket of wild greens inside.
Wang Wen had sent them over through a villager, who only knew how to find Su’s Bun Shop. Su Chi happened to be there and took them, thanking the person with a few sauce-stuffed buns wrapped up for the road.
He took the greens and went home.
Chen Fulang was getting better and better at his work, so Su Chi could slip away to cook and tend to the yard without the shop suffering.
The wild greens in the basket were still beaded with fresh dew, crisp and lively. He leaned down and breathed in their clean, earthy fragrance—the roots still clinging to damp soil. Perfect spring ingredients.
Wang Wen had sent a whole big basket—enough for the two of them for five or six days.
Su Chi carried it to the kitchen, rolled up his sleeves, pulled out a handful, trimmed the old roots, and rinsed them in clean water. The water splashed and swirled as he washed them three or four times before he was satisfied.
He planned to toss them with dried tofu for a crisp, refreshing dish tonight.
In the corner of the yard, Su Chi was bent over, turning the soil. After drawing water from the well and watering the patch, he tended to the flourishing garlic greens and pinched off some scallions that had shot up tall, dropping them into his vegetable basket.
The trellis he’d set up two months ago was now fully covered in green leaves.
Loofah, long beans, and cucumber vines twisted and climbed over each other, leaves overlapping, with loofah blossoms blooming yellow here and there. Small loofahs hung down from between the leaves.
He watered and fertilized every day, and sometimes Xie Yushu would join in when she had time. With this casual care, the plants had grown even more robust than those in other yards.
Standing before the trellis, Su Chi smiled with delight, calculating the days—in less than half a month, they’d be ready to pick.
He turned to go rinse his hands at the well, but after just one step, his vision suddenly went dark. His body swayed—he quickly reached out and braced himself against the wall, rubbing his temple with the other hand, eyes closed, waiting for the spell to pass.
He’d been feeling off for two days. Yesterday, he’d fainted once already.
He’d dismissed it as spring fatigue and didn’t think much of it.
But now, a flicker of unease crept in. If it was just spring fatigue, surely it wouldn’t be this bad?
Not only did he feel unwell, but he was also constantly sleepy. Sometimes, the smell of oil in the kitchen made his throat turn—he’d have to pat his chest to settle it. That had never happened before.
He decided to wait another day or two. If it didn’t improve, he’d go see Wuyou for some medicine. He didn’t want to worry Xie Yushu.
Before he knew it, evening had come. He washed his hands, tied on his apron, and went into the kitchen to prepare dinner.
Judging their appetites, he took out a sweet cured sausage nearly as long as his forearm—the skin glossy with rendered fat, carrying a faint hint of sweet wine.
He sliced it thinly. The blade cut cleanly, revealing a cross-section of red and white—fat marbled with lean, the translucent fat glistening, almost translucent, already oily before it hit the pan.
He rinsed the rice and put it in a clay pot to steam for a while. Then he opened the lid, laid the sausage slices flat on top, added diced shiitake mushrooms and green peas, cracked two eggs over the surface, and poured in a seasoned sauce along the edge of the pot. He covered it, drizzled oil around the lid, and let it slowly steam.
He also had two fist-sized taro roots. He washed, peeled, and quickly cut them into chunks with a smooth, practiced motion. After a quick pan-fry, he layered them at the bottom of a steamer, with garlic-and-sauce-marinated pork ribs on top.
Soon, the savory aroma of the ribs mingled with the fragrance of taro—a comforting scent of home.
He also shelled some fava beans to make scallion-braised fava beans.
The beans were at their peak—bright green, fresh, and full of spring flavor. Plump and round, he quickly shelled a plateful.
He heated oil in the wok, added a few cloves of garlic to release their fragrance, then tossed in the beans and stir-fried quickly. Once the skins were slightly wrinkled, he added enough water to cover the beans, along with salt and a generous amount of sugar. After simmering, he finished with a sprinkle of scallions.
Just as he plated the dish, he heard Xie Yushu’s familiar footsteps returning home. He smiled and went out to greet her.
They lingered in the yard for a moment, and finally Su Chi rose on his toes to kiss her cheek: “Go wash up—dinner’s ready.”
“Alright.” Xie Yushu finally let him go.
The clay pot rice was done. When Su Chi lifted the lid, the sweet wine and savory aroma of the cured sausage filled the small kitchen in silky waves—enough to make anyone exclaim over its fragrance.
The sweet sausage was something Su Chi had made recently. He’d done two batches: one savory-spicy and one sweet wine-infused.
Because Xie Yushu had mentioned craving sweet sausage, Su Chi had followed her instructions and made a batch—and it turned out wonderfully. She’d devoured a whole plate in one sitting. Over the next few days, he’d made a few more, storing them in the cupboard.
He served Xie Yushu a bowl of clay pot rice, stirring it well for her. The fried egg on top, when broken, revealed a runny, golden yolk that slowly coated the glossy, fragrant rice. Mingled with the sweet wine–infused sausage, it was enough to make anyone drool. One word couldn’t do it justice.
Xie Yushu didn’t speak—she just dove in, taking several big spoonfuls.
“This soup is so fresh.” She took a sip of the fava bean broth, which carried scallion and bean fragrances. The clear, slightly green broth was light and appetizing.
Su Chi smiled and said, “Yes.” He also picked up a rib for her—tender enough to fall off the bone with a gentle nudge of chopsticks. “Tomorrow I’ll make fresh bamboo shoots. And in about half a month, we’ll have loofahs from the yard—they’re sweet and tender, delicious stir-fried with eggs or in soup.”
He spoke unhurriedly, his voice warm and soft. Xie Yushu loved listening to him chatter about these little household matters over dinner—it soothed her, as if smoothing away all the day’s weariness.
But when he mentioned loofahs, she perked up: “Loofahs reduce heat—we both need to eat more. I’ll bring home some clams from the ferry soon, and make loofah and clam soup—it’ll be even fresher and more cooling.”
“Alright, whatever you say.” Su Chi smiled and ladled a spoonful of fava beans into her bowl. “Here, try this.”
The beans were soft and tender with a pleasant chewiness, and the sauce at the bottom was richly flavorful. They both loved it, and the plate was soon half empty.
Before they knew it, the sky had gone completely dark. Only a few households in the lane were lit by warm candlelight.
Just as they finished eating, Su Chi suddenly remembered the bedding and sheets still hanging in the yard. Xie Yushu got up to bring them in, hugging the sun-scented, soapberry-fresh linens back inside.
By the time Su Chi finished tidying the kitchen, the bed was already made. He praised Xie Yushu for being so thoughtful.
She took his hand, kissed it, then pulled him along to wash up together in the warm room.
They’d bathed together before, though not often—Su Chi was shy and always pretended to refuse. But if Xie Yushu softened her expression and just looked at him for a moment, he’d go pink and let her have her way.
After they came out in clean underclothes, Xie Yushu waited patiently in bed while Su Chi finished his calligraphy practice.
His handwriting had improved enough that she didn’t need to worry—she just offered occasional advice. He was a good student, attentive and quick to learn.
Propped on the pillow, she watched his serious expression, her heart softening with tenderness.
As soon as he finished, Xie Yushu blew out the candle, scooped him up, and was ready to get up to mischief.
But no sooner had she kissed him than he pushed her away. Xie Yushu looked confused.
“Can we… wait a few days?” Su Chi said, face flushed, gently pushing against her chest. “I don’t feel very well today.”
“Not well? Where?” Xie Yushu immediately grew worried. She pulled him up into her arms, rubbing his back soothingly.
He shook his head, cupping her face: “It’s nothing serious—I’ve just been tired lately.”
As he said it, the blush that had faded came rushing back. He had been tired—Xie Yushu had been especially demanding lately, and combined with spring fatigue, he’d been exhausted.
Xie Yushu understood—she was the cause. She kissed his brow with regret: “It’s my fault.”
He shook his head again and buried his face in her chest.
She gently patted his thin back, and before long, he’d fallen asleep in her arms.
Jiangzhou Prefecture, the Xie Family.
Some time ago, Xie Yushu had sent them a small cartload of seaweed snacks—a gift for the younger cousins to try.
The children had never seen such a snack before. When they opened the packets, they found thin, translucent sheets that you could hold up to the light. They were fascinated by this thing called “seaweed snack,” and after one taste, they all declared it delicious.
The adults found it interesting too.
Wen Fulang ate two slices, his eyes widening slightly. He didn’t hold back his praise for his granddaughter: “That child Yushu—to think she came up with such a curious little thing. Truly delicious.”
Xie Mu also found it good. A businesswoman at heart, she immediately began thinking about its commercial potential—and finally understood where her granddaughter’s confidence came from.
Her granddaughter truly had real skill—she’d made her own way without relying on the Xie family.
This snack was genuinely unique. Over her many years in trade, she’d tasted and seen many fine things. One look told her that the texture, flavor, and appearance of this product weren’t something an ordinary workshop could produce.
This would sell well—no shortage of buyers.
While the adults talked, the little rascals stared longingly at the seaweed snacks.
Wen Fulang knew his grandchildren well. He beckoned them over, and they lined up obediently, each receiving their share of the tasty treat from their grandfather.
In the second branch’s courtyard, a chubby little puppy, catching its owner off guard, jumped up and snatched a packet of seaweed snack off the table. It scurried to a corner, buried its head between its paws, and chewed away secretly.
When Xie Yumo turned back and found the seaweed missing, she spotted the guilty, sneaky puppy at once. She marched over and pried open its mouth: “Naughty puppy! That was from Sister Yushu for me!”
The puppy couldn’t talk—it had already swallowed it all. Now it let out a pleading whimper, looking up at its owner.
“You sure know how to pick the good stuff.” Xie Yumo was both annoyed and amused. She crouched down and poked the puppy’s forehead—gently; she couldn’t bring herself to hurt it.
The puppy didn’t dodge. Instead, it burrowed its fuzzy head into her palm, nuzzling her fingers with its wet nose, its tail wagging nonstop.
Xie Yumo’s irritation melted away. She picked up the puppy and gave it a couple of kisses.
It smelled like a fuzzy little chick.
Though Xie Yushu had sent over a whole cart, the bulky packaging meant there wasn’t that much actual seaweed inside. The older siblings all loved it too, and between them all, there were only a few packets each—gone in no time.
Xie Yumo liked to save her favorite things to enjoy slowly, so she still had some left. In the blink of an eye, the naughty puppy had stolen them.
Her puppy was usually very well-behaved—except when it came to food. It was always snatching her treats.
Normally, she wouldn’t mind, but this was different—she’d never had such delicious snacks, and she didn’t know when Sister Yushu would send more.
Her mother had just returned from Tang’an County a couple of days ago and had mentioned a bit about Sister Yushu’s business.
She’d said Sister Yushu’s workshop had only just started, with too few hands and low production. For now, seaweed snacks could only be sold in Tang’an County. Once she trained more workers, production could expand—then they’d be sold in the prefecture too.
The puppy didn’t understand what she was thinking—it just nuzzled her with its chick-scented head.
Xie Yumo pushed those thoughts aside and took the puppy out for a walk.
·
Another ten-odd days passed. Su Chi felt less fatigued than before and figured it was nothing serious—he didn’t want to trouble Wuyou.
Just then, several loofahs and cucumbers on the trellis were ripe—perfect for eating fresh. He picked a few.
The sun was bright that day, high in the sky, carrying the first hints of early summer heat.
After working for a while, a thin sheen of sweat formed on his forehead. He put the freshly picked cucumbers into the well to chill—they’d taste better that way.
But the moment he straightened up, a wave of dizziness hit him. The world spun, and everything around him twisted and blurred.
The garden, the trellis, the old willow—all gone. The ground seemed to sway, and the air felt like it was flowing around him.
He instinctively reached for the well edge, but his fingers grasped nothing. His body gave way, and his knees struck the well curb with a dull thud. Before the pain could register, he collapsed limply to the ground.
The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was the clear sky above. Then everything went dark.
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