The two of them followed Aunt Liu to the brokerage to sign the papers. The brokerage wasn’t far from the house, so they arrived quickly.
Xie Yushu said directly to Sun Wuyou: “I’ll cover the rent for this house.”
Sun Wuyou had eaten lunch and seen a few patients, and now drowsiness was washing over her. She yawned, her eyes glistening, and said in a sleepy tone: “Rent? I’m not renting. I’m buying.”
Xie Yushu agreed that buying outright was simpler: “That works too. I’ll pay for it all.”
“You’re buying it for me? Why?” Sun Wuyou turned her head, utterly bewildered.
“The one hundred and twenty strings you lent me before—forgot already?” Xie Yushu had known this woman would have forgotten about the money. She laid it out plainly: “After buying the house, I’ll add two shares’ worth of interest and pay you back the rest.”
Reminded of it, Sun Wuyou finally recalled the money she’d lent Xie Yushu—so there had been such a thing.
But she was even more surprised by something else: “Looks like your business is doing well. It’s only been what—how long—and you’ve already earned that much?”
Xie Yushu couldn’t be bothered with her nonsense and pushed her toward the desk: “Enough jibber-jabber. Come on, stamp your thumbprint and sign.”
They’d already settled on the price on the way over. Xie Yushu was a regular customer, and Aunt Liu was happy to do her a favor. Besides, though the house was large, it was an older place—nothing too special—so she only asked for thirty-five strings.
Xie Yushu paid promptly and stuffed the keys into Sun Wuyou’s hand: “When are you planning to move in?”
Sun Wuyou took the keys with a silly grin: “Tonight, how about that?”
“Fine. I’ll have Aunt Liu send a couple of people over to clean up for you.”
By the time they left the brokerage, the sky had darkened considerably.
Sun Wuyou and Guizhi had been staying at an inn in town. They hadn’t brought much from home, so packing was quick. By full dark, they’d moved in.
At their new residence, Su Chi stood in the yard, directing the two people Aunt Liu had temporarily sent over to give the place a rough cleaning.
A few details hadn’t been finished, but those could wait until the next day.
Xie Yushu carried their luggage into their rooms. They tossed things about casually, and then she invited them back to her place for dinner.
This time of day was the quietest at the pharmacy—few patients, with other doctors on duty. They could slip out without anyone saying a word.
Having moved into a new home and about to enjoy a hot, fragrant meal at the Xie household, the mistress and servant were in high spirits, striding ahead with light steps.
Xie Yushu walked slowly behind, holding Su Chi’s hand. Feeling his cold fingertips, she squeezed them tenderly: “Been touching cold water?”
“It’s nothing—just a bit. They were the ones doing most of the cleaning,” Su Chi said, squeezing her hand back and shaking his head.
He was telling the truth. The two people Aunt Liu had sent were indeed hardworking—they worked quietly and followed instructions well. When he’d tried to help, they’d stopped him, saying they could handle it and not to trouble him. Afterwards, Su Chi had given them a few extra copper coins.
These two fulang were efficient workers, but they’d both said they wouldn’t be coming back tomorrow—they had other jobs. They’d only been dragged over by Aunt Liu as temporary help.
Su Chi had wanted to hire them long-term, but since they’d declined, he didn’t want to pressure them. He’d just find someone else to do the cleaning tomorrow.
At this hour, making several elaborate dishes would take too long. To get hot food on the table quickly, Su Chi decided to make a hot pot—perfect for eating with rice.
In the kitchen cabinet, there happened to be a preserved duck his father had brought earlier. On a chilly day like this, hunkering down at home with a steaming hot pot was the most comforting thing imaginable.
Four people sharing one whole duck was just right. Su Chi took the preserved duck out, cut it into small pieces, and soaked them in warm water to draw out the excess salt. While they soaked, he prepared the side dishes and seasonings.
Xie Yushu, seeing those two lively ones warming their hands and nibbling pastries in the main hall, came up behind Su Chi and wrapped her arms around his waist. She planted a kiss on his soft, fair cheek: “Need me to do anything?”
The unexpected kiss tickled, and Su Chi flinched away, afraid of being seen. Normally, with just the two of them at home, it didn’t matter—but with two other people in the house, he didn’t dare let Xie Yushu get carried away.
“No, go have some tea with them,” he said, wiping his hands and trying to gently nudge her out of the kitchen.
Xie Yushu stood firm as a mountain, full of energy—nowhere near something Su Chi could budge.
With her fulang’s weak hands pushing uselessly against her, Xie Yushu chuckled. She let go, rolled up her sleeves, and said cheerfully, “I’ll wash and chop the vegetables.”
Seeing his wife already picking greens from the basket, Su Chi felt both warmth and a pang of tenderness.
What other woman loved to poke around the kitchen like she did?
Once all the vegetables were washed, chopped, and set aside, Su Chi took over the wok.
He poured a blend of rapeseed oil and lard into the pan. Once it melted and sizzled, releasing its fragrance, he added the preserved duck pieces and stir-fried them until the fat rendered and the meat was fragrant. Then he tossed in ginger, garlic, and dried chilies, continuing to stir-fry until the spicy aroma bloomed. He poured in an appropriate amount of boiling water, covered the pot, and let it simmer over low heat.
Meanwhile, Xie Yushu brought a small brazier to the dining table and took out a clay pot big enough for four or five people. She lined the bottom with washed cabbage, lettuce, hazel mushrooms, thin sheets of dried tofu, and fine sweet potato noodles.
By the time she was done, the preserved duck in the big pot had finished simmering. Su Chi lifted the lid to reveal milky-white broth, savory with a rich, meaty fragrance. Just the sight of it made one swallow.
Xie Yushu poured the entire contents of the pot—broth and meat alike—over the prepared ingredients in the clay pot, not letting a single drop go to waste.
She lit the charcoal in the small brazier and set the clay pot on top, covering it with the lid. Before long, the contents came to a bubbling boil, the broth rolling and releasing an aroma that quickly filled the kitchen.
Su Chi swiftly made a dish of pan-fried tofu. He sliced the firm tofu into very thin pieces, frying them until both sides were golden and crisp. Then he poured in a prepared sauce, stir-fried for a moment, and finished with a sprinkle of chopped scallions before plating.
He also made a quick cold dish of smashed cucumber—mashing the garlic into a paste, then mixing it with salt, vinegar, sugar, and soy sauce, finishing with a drizzle of sesame oil, tossing everything thoroughly.
Xie Yushu carried the dishes to the table and called the other two to come eat.
Once everyone was seated, Su Chi lifted the lid off the clay pot, sprinkled on a little salt and some chopped green garlic sprouts, and it was ready.
The vibrant green garlic sprouts rested on the creamy white broth—the colors complementing each other perfectly—and the fragrance immediately burst forth.
On the table sat just the clay pot and two small side dishes, not the usual spread of meat and vegetables. But no one minded—their eyes were gleaming, as if the pastries they’d eaten earlier had vanished from memory.
Guizhi, still a child at heart and naturally fond of good food, had grown close to Xie Yushu and Su Chi over this time. She threw all pretense aside, closed her eyes in bliss, and inhaled deeply, her praise flowing nonstop.
Sun Wuyou was more restrained, letting out a subtle cough to remind Guizhi to mind her manners. Then she quickly grabbed a large piece of meat and placed it over her rice, bowing her head to start eating.
The preserved duck was savory, firm, and slightly dry—but after soaking in the broth, it became tender without losing its chew. The meat was dense, and the rich, dried-cured flavor spread across the tongue—satisfying and utterly addictive.
At this time of year, the cabbage was sweet and crisp, bursting with refreshing juice with every bite. The lettuce was even better—most of the broth’s clean, fragrant notes came from it, crunchy and tender. The thin sheets of dried tofu had simmered until soft, their bean fragrance mingling with the broth. The hazel mushrooms, braised to perfection, lent an earthy, wild aroma that gave the entire pot a distinctive character.
Spooning the preserved duck broth over rice was an absolute delight.
The creamy, slightly golden broth soaked into the rice—savory and rich, making it impossible to stop once you started. The top corner of Sun Wuyou’s heaping bowl of rice vanished in an instant.
The mistress and servant devoured their food ravenously, shaking their heads in delight and mumbling praises through mouthfuls about how incredible the hot pot was.
What on earth did they eat at the Sun household? They came from a noble family, yet ate with such abandon—nothing like the disciplined upbringing one would expect.
Xie Yushu’s curiosity was piqued by these two.
Watching their usual voracious eating habits, she quickly grabbed the best duck leg from the pot and placed it into Su Chi’s bowl.
The duck leg had wrinkly skin, glistening with an appealing cured color, revealing deep reddish-brown strands of meat. With one bite, the skin was sticky and the meat tender, carrying the distinctive flavor of preserved food—the more you ate, the more delicious it became.
After eating for a while, Su Chi set down his chopsticks and ladled some soup for Xie Yushu, placing a small bowl before her.
Though the soup was made from preserved duck, Su Chi had soaked it in warm water beforehand to remove excess salt. The resulting broth was perfectly balanced—not too salty, not too bland—perfect for drinking. It went down smooth and warmed the heart, leaving both hands toasty warm.
The Xie household blazed with bright, warm light, lively and bustling inside. Outside, by stark contrast, it was pitch black. The entire town had been swallowed by the ink-dark, bone-chilling night, with cold winds howling and swirling at the mouth of the lane, their mournful wails drifting through the alley.
Sun Wuyou and Guizhi had eaten their fill. They leaned back in their chairs, patting their stomachs in contented satisfaction.
When it was time for them to leave, Xie Yushu and Su Chi saw them to the gate. Fortunately, they were full and warm, so the biting cold outside didn’t bother them in the least.
Taking the opportunity, Xie Yushu repaid the money she owed Sun Wuyou.
One hundred and twenty strings—Xie Yushu had borrowed it for less than three months. She calculated interest for three months at two shares’ interest, totaling one hundred and twenty-seven strings.
She’d spent thirty-five strings on the house for them, leaving ninety-two strings—a bulging pouch, all of it tucked into Guizhi’s arms.
Now debt-free, though a large chunk of her earnings had vanished in the blink of an eye, she felt a genuine sense of relief.
Xie Yushu helped Su Chi clean up the kitchen, then sent him to the warm room to wash up.
By the time she came back from washing, Su Chi was already sitting obediently, practicing his calligraphy—two sheets already completed.
In high spirits tonight, Xie Yushu took it upon herself to tease Su Chi.
She sat beside him, lazily resting her chin on her hand, leaning against the table. She watched him for a long while, noting how focused he was—his usually soft brows knit in serious concentration, the very picture of a diligent, eager student.
Xie Yushu felt a tickle in her heart. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice with a mischievous edge: “If you write badly, you’ll have to be punished with a slap on the palm.”
Su Chi’s brush hand froze mid-stroke. He turned in surprise, eyes wide in sheer disbelief: “You… you’re going to hit me?”
“Not hit you,” Xie Yushu said, suppressing a laugh as she reached out and gently pinched his open palm. “Punish your palm.”
Su Chi stared blankly for a long moment, still unable to grasp the difference—wasn’t it still hitting him?
But… he’d grown up without ever being struck, not even by his mother or father—not even a single finger laid on him.
He’d always been the best-behaved child in the village. While other kids got into mischief—climbing trees to steal birds’ eggs, playing in mud on rainy days, chasing chickens and ducks, teasing cats and dogs—he was always well-behaved, a little cotton-padded jacket for his family, never causing a moment’s worry.
And now his wife said she was going to punish him?
In an instant, Su Chi’s eyes turned misty with hurt. His apricot-shaped eyes looked up at Xie Yushu with innocent grievance, the corners tinged with a faint red—like a pitiful little puppy, his whole face silently asking: How could you?
Xie Yushu’s heart melted at his pitiful expression, softening into a puddle.
How could she ever bear to punish her fulang, so adorable?
She cradled Su Chi’s little face in both hands and kissed his tightly pursed, pouty lips, pecking him gently as she murmured, “So adorable—Su Chi, you’re just so adorable.”
Su Chi sat there in a daze, genuinely a little upset about this talk of punishing him. His mix of indignation and bewilderment was so endearing that it triggered Xie Yushu’s cute aggression.
She kneaded his face like dough, rubbing the tip of his nose until it turned slightly pink. The soft flesh on his cheeks, which she’d finally managed to build up, spilled through her fingers—making him look like a round, squishy soup dumpling.
He blinked his innocent eyes in confusion, utterly unable to figure it out.
Wasn’t “adorable” a word used for children?
His mother used to call him adorable too—the best-behaved, cutest child in the village. But that was years ago. Now they were married, and he was her fulang. Why was his wife still using that word to describe him?
But sometimes, he really did think his wife was the child—forever young at heart, as if time had stopped for her. She loved to eat, loved to play, loved to tease him.
Sometimes she was strong and reliable, his pillar of support and his safe harbor. Other times, she’d act spoiled with him, demanding this and that, always clinging to him like an overgrown cat pretending to be cute.
No matter which side of her showed, he adored her to death.
Su Chi racked his brain for a long while but still couldn’t figure it out. Yet looking at Xie Yushu’s bright, crescent-shaped eyes and her teasing, mischievous smile, he thought: Forget it, let her be. Whatever makes her happy.
“You’re wonderful too,” Su Chi said, cupping Xie Yushu’s face in return, mirroring her actions and repeating her words right back at her, his eyes brimming with love. “Yushu… you’re so adorable too.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Xie Yushu’s clear, bright gaze instantly darkened—like a beast lazily at rest, suddenly awakened by some primal scent, its pupils shifting into hunting mode. She stared at Su Chi for a long moment, her eyes burning with heat and danger, something deep and unfathomable churning beneath the surface.
Su Chi felt a prickle of unease under her gaze and was about to coax her, when Xie Yushu suddenly reached out and pulled him onto her lap. Startled, he clung tightly to her neck, afraid of falling.
Then a kiss came down—not the tender, lingering kisses of usual days, but one full of conquering intensity. A deep, claiming kiss, as if she were demanding repayment with interest for his words calling her “adorable.”
He was overwhelmed by the kiss, his breathing growing rapid. His soft hands pushed weakly against her chest, but Xie Yushu’s large palm easily cradled the back of his head, her fingers sinking into his soft hair, leaving him no chance to escape.
The candlelight in the room flickered and danced. At some point, the brush and ink had rolled off the table, splattering ink across the floor in dark blooms that looked exactly like blossoming silk trees.
Threads and strands spread silently, staining the ground with ambiguous marks.
The air in the room grew thick and warm. A few sticky, lingering sounds escaped—soft, intimate murmurs that made one’s ears burn and dare not listen too closely.
·
The next morning, Su Chi arrived at the shop quite late. Fortunately, Chen Fulang had grown accustomed to the shop’s rhythm and had handled everything steadily.
Su Chi was grateful he’d hired Chen Fulang—otherwise, how could the shop run properly with him sleeping in and fooling around with Xie Yushu every day?
The Sun family pharmacy sent someone almost every morning to buy the shop’s breakfast for their staff. Chen Yun had grown familiar with them, packing everything quickly and efficiently each time. He also knew that the Sun family doctors were on good terms with his boss.
About two quarters of an hour later, Hu Yuan arrived at the shop entrance, followed by someone pulling a wooden cart loaded with vinegar jars from the Hu family.
Su Chi thought the person pulling the cart looked familiar. Looking closer, he realized it was Qian Ai—the same person who sold him firewood. What was he doing here with Yuan Ge’er?
The man greeted Su Chi openly and cheerfully, then helped bring the wooden shelf out from the back kitchen. Following Su Chi’s instructions, he placed it against the wall in the customer dining area.
Hu Yuan and Su Chi worked together to place the vinegar jars onto the shelf, arranging them neatly.
The jars weren’t large—about the size of a man’s palm—just the right amount for a household to use for a month or two. The jars were a dark brown, each with a square red paper label pasted on the front bearing the words “Hu Family Vinegar Workshop.” On the side of the shelf, a price tag read: twenty-eight wen per small jar.
If customers saw it, they wouldn’t need to ask Su Chi—they could simply take a jar, pay, and leave, saving Su Chi the trouble.
Hu Yuan was a meticulous young ge’er who had thought of everything. Su Chi agreed it was a good arrangement.
He told Hu Yuan to go on his way without worry—the vinegar would sell itself.
After Hu Yuan said his goodbyes and left with Qian Ai, Su Chi watched their retreating figures, feeling there was something about them he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
The shop now had a new wooden shelf against the wall, neatly lined with uniform small vinegar jars. Any customer coming in to eat couldn’t help but sneak a curious glance at them.
Su Chi would simply explain that it was the same vinegar used in the shop, assuring customers they could buy a jar to take home with confidence—the flavor would be just as good.
Ever since the shop had started offering vinegar and chili oil, dine-in customers had grown more frequent, all loving the flavors. Now that Su Chi was selling jars of vinegar, many people bought them without needing him to say a word.
Watching several jars sell in just one morning, Su Chi felt genuinely happy for Hu Yuan.
The shop used vinegar quickly—buying it month after month meant a significant expense. But with Hu Yuan’s discount, the cost had been cut in half.
Su Chi was happy for himself too.
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