At these words, Zhang Wenyue gritted her teeth and landed a hard smack on Ding Weidong’s arm, fuming: “Can’t you just say it all at once? Who are you trying to annoy by talking in halves?”
“Ow, I’m sorry!” Ding Weidong rubbed his arm with a sheepish grin, leaned in to whisper a few sweet nothings in her ear, then steered the conversation back on track: “I asked around. Their youngest son isn’t married and doesn’t have a girlfriend either. Same age as Aiyun. Just came back from the provincial capital this year after finishing his studies—a fine, upstanding young man.”
“Sounds decent enough. Have you met him? What does he look like?” He couldn’t be too plain.
“I haven’t seen him, but I’ve seen him and his wife. Neither of them is ugly. As the saying goes, dragons beget dragons, phoenixes beget phoenixes—however you look at it, their son can’t be that bad-looking, right?” Ding Weidong scratched his head, a little uncertain.
“Makes sense. But are they actually looking for a match?” Zhang Wenyue rubbed her chin. She’d also run into the Xu couple a few times—they were indeed good-looking, modest, and courteous.
If it weren’t for that, she wouldn’t have considered them first.
But her fancying the Xu family was one thing—whether they’d fancy her niece was another. After all, they were city folk with a comfortable life; it was only natural for their standards to be high.
To be honest, Zhang Wenyue didn’t expect the Xu family to say yes. But one could never be too careful—what if it worked out? You had to try.
People were visual creatures, and beauty was one of a girl’s most powerful weapons. Zhang Wenyue herself had used it to win over Ding Weidong, making him disregard the disparity in their family backgrounds and persuade his family to marry her willingly. So in her eyes, Lin Aiyun—who was even prettier than she was—would never lack suitors.
If the Xu family wasn’t interested, there were the Zhangs, the Lis… She’d find a way for her niece to stay in the city and live well.
If she pulled this off, she’d have given Zhang Wenhua a proper answer.
To her surprise, Ding Weidong grinned and said: “Of course they are. He even said he’d been meaning to ask if you had any eligible relatives.”
“Huh?” Zhang Wenyue was stunned, rooted to the spot.
Ding Weidong clicked his tongue and explained: “When Ronghao and Xiaochun were little, I used to take them to my workplace all the time. Brother Hongjian adored them—always saying he wanted grandchildren just like them. I thought he was joking, but turns out he meant it, haha.”
At that, Zhang Wenyue understood. The two children took after her in looks—pretty and refined. Back then, they weren’t as mischievous as they were now; their skin was fair and radiant, like the lucky dolls in New Year paintings—utterly endearing. The neighbors had lined up to hold them. They were famous for it.
Having two such wonderful children had been the turning point that cemented her place in the Ding family and earned her the right to manage the household.
“That’s wonderful! Since they’re willing, we’re not exactly forcing ourselves on them.” Zhang Wenyue clapped her hands, thought for a moment, then said: “Everyone’s free this weekend anyway. Let’s just arrange for the two young people to meet.”
“Isn’t that a bit fast?”
“What’s fast about it? If they’re compatible, they can date. If not, they’ll part ways—no need to waste each other’s time.”
With that, Zhang Wenyue turned and left the kitchen. After two steps, she looked back and added: “You wash the dishes. I’m going to take a bath.”
“What? That many—by myself?” Ding Weidong stared at the mountain of dishes, his head spinning. Weren’t they supposed to wash them together?
Zhang Wenyue raised an eyebrow: “Who brought umbrellas to the whole family this afternoon?”
“Honey, go ahead and take your bath—I’ve got this.” Ding Weidong’s face broke into a bright smile as he pushed her toward the bathroom. “Don’t worry, I’ll have these dishes sparkling clean.”
“That’s more like it.” Zhang Wenyue smirked in satisfaction, swaying her slender waist as she walked away.
—
The next day, the weather cleared. Sunlight streamed through the tall trees, casting oddly shaped patches on the still-damp ground—deceptively inviting. But after yesterday’s lesson, who would dare leave the house without an umbrella?
Lin Aiyun walked along, her mind preoccupied with other matters. Distracted, she nearly took an umbrella to the face as one flew toward her. Thankfully, she threw up a hand just in time to deflect it, sparing herself from disaster.
Frowning, she looked at the battered umbrella in her hand and patted her chest in relief.
“Sorry.” A pleasant male voice reached her ears, its tone lilting at the end—like a spring breeze skimming across a lake, carrying a unique gentleness.
Lin Aiyun looked up and met a pair of round eyes—startlingly large. Slightly sunken eye sockets made him look rather weary.
His voice didn’t match his appearance at all. That was the thought that came to mind.
He was very tall—nearly 1.9 meters, she guessed—but so thin he looked like a bamboo pole at first glance. He wore a grey short jacket and trousers, though the pants were far too short—either a bad tailor or they’d shrunk—exposing his darkened ankles and faded cloth shoes.
Then Lin Aiyun remembered his name—Niu Wenshan.
Her aunt had said to avoid him.
Realizing she’d been staring at him for too long, Lin Aiyun awkwardly averted her gaze and handed the umbrella back.
“Sorry.” Another apology accompanied the crisp snap of the umbrella closing.
“It’s fine.” Lin Aiyun nodded in acknowledgment, quickened her pace, and left the alley entrance. Only after she’d gone a good distance did she dare stop and glance back.
If that spot weren’t on her necessary route, she would have taken a detour. Every time she passed, an unpleasant slimy chill crept from her feet up through her whole body, lingering long after.
Pushing the thought aside, she headed toward the Liu household. As expected, she didn’t run into Xiao Cheng. Everything from yesterday felt like a dream—hazy and unreal.
“Aiyun, since the weather’s nice today, let’s get these Huixin herbs sun-dried.” Liu Hui came out of the storeroom carrying a bamboo tray and called out to her. Lin Aiyun quickly fetched several chairs from the main hall and set them up in the courtyard.
Having spent so many years in Fengyuan Village in her previous life, and later dealing with constant minor ailments in old age and frequent hospital visits, she had picked up quite a bit of knowledge about medicinal herbs. She knew what Huixin herbs were used for—they could be made into medicine with a slightly bitter taste and neutral nature, effective for clearing the liver, brightening the eyes, nourishing the heart, calming the mind, reducing inflammation, and benefiting the kidneys.
After drying, they could also be steeped in hot water to drink—quite effective for those suffering from insomnia.
She wondered who they were for.
The two of them worked for a long while, carefully laying all the herbs flat on the bamboo trays to ensure every side would get sunlight.
“The older I get, the worse my back gets.” Liu Hui settled onto a wooden chair in the corridor, squinting slightly as she laughed at herself.
“Tell me about it.” Lin Aiyun nodded in heartfelt agreement.
The words had barely left her mouth when she realized the implication. She quickly added: “My mother’s the same way.”
“Haha.” Fortunately, Liu Hui didn’t dwell on it. After a short rest, she asked Lin Aiyun to help her copy prescriptions.
Lin Aiyun sat with her back as straight as a pine or bamboo. Every stroke carried elegance—delicate yet bold, flowing smoothly like clouds and water, each character like a gleaming pearl. In her previous life, in her later years, she’d enjoyed doing refined, artistic things. She’d hired a calligraphy master to teach her, and Xiao Cheng had also given her pointers now and then.
But she found it tiring and was usually lazy—practicing for two days and slacking off for three. She spent more time skipping than learning, so she’d only picked up the basics. She couldn’t compare to those who had studied systematically, but compared to ordinary people, she was more than just a little better. After all, she’d spent the money, and some results had come of it.
“Nice handwriting.”
A low, rich voice drifted to her ear—more startling than anything else. Lin Aiyun’s brush trembled, nearly ruining the page. Fortunately, someone caught her wrist in time.
Rough fingertips pressed against her palm. The skin-to-skin contact sent her heart racing. A silent, lingering warmth gradually filled the space between them.
“Thank you.”
Suppressing the little deer that kept trying to break free in her chest, Lin Aiyun didn’t pull her hand away immediately. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. From this angle, she could clearly see the perfect line of his jaw.
His complexion was even, his neck long and elegant, as he leaned close enough to encircle her—and a faint, pleasant fragrance lingered in the air around him.
Only when Xiao Cheng unconsciously drew even closer did he realize it was the scent of her hair.
“You’re welcome.” Xiao Cheng glanced at Liu Hui, who was staring at them with something on the tip of her tongue. He rose and released Lin Aiyun’s hand. His leather shoes tapped against the bluestone floor—a subtle sound, as if venting his mood.
“Mr. Xiao, please have a seat and rest for a while. I’ll prepare your herbal bath right away.” Liu Chengzhang broke the silence. Only then did they realize the two had come in together—no wonder they hadn’t heard any knocking.
Since the household consisted of only an old man and women, the courtyard gate was always kept locked, day and night. They’d only open it after recognizing a familiar face through the crack in the door.
But these two walked without a sound—they hadn’t heard a thing.
“Take your time. I’ll be here all day today.” Even though Xiao Cheng didn’t look at Lin Aiyun as he said it, she somehow felt it was meant for her.
Hearing this, Lin Aiyun made no response. She simply took up her brush again and continued writing. It was only after a long while, when she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, that she allowed herself a small smile—hidden behind her hand.
Xiao Cheng lounged in the host’s chair like a lord, slouching with his long legs propped up on a low stool, elbows resting on the armrests, one finger idly stroking his chin. His handsome face was expressionless—no telling what he was thinking—as if his mind had gone blank.
The tea Liu Hui had poured sat untouched by his hand.
Lin Aiyun knew his old picky habits had kicked in. Having been raised on fine teas and liquors, average stuff just didn’t meet his standards. When his stubbornness flared up, he’d rather die of thirst than touch it.
But call him fussy? When he drank with brothers who’d faced life and death together, he’d knock back cheap homemade liquor that cost a few jiao per pound.
The word “contradiction” suited Xiao Cheng perfectly. She wasn’t surprised at all.
“Did you go to school? Who taught you to write like this?”
Perhaps bored of waiting, Xiao Cheng rose and walked over to the desk, picking up one of the prescriptions she’d just copied. But after a closer look, his thick brows furrowed involuntarily.
Why did this bear his own handwriting?
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