After Awakening, the Control Group’s Husband Decided to Lie Flat - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Refusal

No sooner had he sat down than Aunt Chunmiao asked him with a teasing smile,

“Well? Isn’t the scholar quite the fine young man?”

Xia Qingtáo pictured that delicate, slender face in his mind, felt absolutely nothing stir in his heart, thought for a moment, and shook his head.

Seeing this, Aunt Chunmiao instantly understood and comforted him, saying,

“It’s alright, you’re still young. You can always meet more people.”

When they returned home for lunch, his mother probably feared he’d feel embarrassed and said nothing, but his elder brother, while eating, asked,

“Táo’er, what do you think?”

Feigning confusion, he replied,

“Think about what?”

“Whether you like the scholar or not!”

Xinghua nudged her husband with her chopsticks.

“How can you say that? Aren’t you afraid of making Qingtáo uncomfortable?”

Their mother studied Xia Qingtáo for a moment. Seeing no expression on her son’s face, she knew he hadn’t taken a liking to the scholar.

“Enough, Qingxi. Finish eating and get back to work. Stop prying.”

Only then did Xia Qingxi mutter an “Oh” and lower his head to his meal.

After lunch, while Xia Qingtáo was washing dishes in the kitchen, his mother came in. As she scooped water from the vat, she lowered her voice and asked,

“You don’t like the scholar?”

Xia Qingtáo’s hands paused in the washwater.

“Mm. Too skinny—can’t lift or carry anything.”

His mother snorted a laugh.

“Well, he’s a scholar. Naturally—”

Realizing her voice was too loud, she quickly hushed herself and continued softly,

“I heard from your cousin’s wife that he’s good at studying. Probably just three to five years away from passing the provincial exam and becoming a juren1. And being a scholar, he’s exempt from taxes and corvée labor, plus he gets a monthly stipend of grain and meat. If you marry him, all that’s yours. Were it not for our family’s reputation for honesty and your own capable nature, a scholar might not even look twice at you!”

Xia Qingtáo’s hands kept moving as he quietly replied,

“Forget it. I don’t like him.”

Truth be told, if not for his competitive streak—always wanting to outdo Xia Mian—he would never have considered a scholar in the first place. Especially after having that dream in the capital—there was no way he’d consider a scholar now.

His mother hesitated, then asked curiously,

“Then what sort do you like?”

Xia Qingtáo thought for a moment. A vague figure flashed through his mind but vanished just as quickly, leaving nothing to grasp. He could only reply,

“Mother, who even asks like that?”

His mother chuckled, asked no further, and carried out the basin.

When Xia Qingtáo finished the dishes, he fetched the basket from the corner of the yard, preparing to head out and gather pigweed. Their family kept a single pig, to be slaughtered for the New Year.

The moment he stepped outside, voices reached his ears. Looking over, he saw Xia Mian’s mother speaking with another woman. Upon noticing him, Xia Mian’s mother beamed, though her eyes glinted with scorn.

“Well if it isn’t Táo’er. Heard you went to meet Scholar Li today. How’d it go? Did you take a fancy to him?”

Who blatantly asked about a gē’er’s2 matchmaking prospects in public like this? Clearly, she wanted to see him embarrassed.

Xia Qingtáo curled his lips into a faint smile.

“Who can say if it’ll work out or not? It all depends on fate.”

“That’s true! Just look at your family’s Mianmian—fate came knocking, and the county magistrate’s son took a liking to him. Now he’s an official’s wife!” another woman chimed in with a flattering laugh.

Xia Mian’s mother lifted her chin proudly.

“Well, my Mianmian was born beautiful. Not every gē’er is lucky enough to become an official’s wife, you know!”

Pretending not to hear the veiled jab, Xia Qingtáo walked straight toward the mountain path.

Their Xia family village sat at the foot of the hills. A mile’s walk led into the mountain. Southern lands brimmed with water, so streams crisscrossed the hillsides and footpaths. Pigweed thrived along these streams, though with winter nearing, there was less of it—he’d have to venture deeper to fill his basket.

The mountains nearest the village were planted with tea and bamboo, and even now plenty of villagers foraged there for winter bamboo shoots or wild persimmons. It wasn’t dangerous.

Xia Qingtáo worked deftly and neatly, stacking the pigweed into tidy little bundles. When he found shepherd’s purse or purslane, he cleaned and sorted those too, arranging them neatly to the side.

Passersby—uncles and aunts—often praised him when they saw him working, though he never sought praise. He only thought of finishing quickly, feeding the pig, and helping his sister-in-law prepare dinner.

Further up the slope, a middle-aged man and a younger lad were working together. The older man muttered,

“Winter’s coming soon. The squirrels and weasels are getting bolder. We’ve only got that one chestnut tree, and they’ve stripped it before the nuts even ripen—makes my blood boil!”

Turning to the youth beside him—dressed thinly—the man added,

“Thank goodness for you, Ah Sui. If you didn’t know how to set snares, we’d have no way to deal with these blasted pests.”

Lu Sui said nothing, crouched as he set the trap. Though his clothes were thin, he still rolled up his sleeves, revealing pale yet muscular forearms.

After a while, he stood and said lightly,

“Done. Just release this part when the time comes.”

The man inspected it and smiled.

“Good enough, then. Come on, let’s head down. Your aunt’s made snacks.”

Lu Sui remained silent, following his uncle downhill. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a sturdy back. His pale complexion and handsome features were offset by the cold glint in his dark eyes—like the surface of a still lake, never ruffled.

Descending the mountain path, they soon glimpsed the scenery below. At the foot of the hill, by a stream, a young gē’er was cutting pigweed. His skin was fair, his bare hands dazzling white. Each movement gleamed faintly, like luminous pearls.

It was impolite to stare at an unmarried gē’er, so Lu Sui instinctively lowered his lashes and kept his eyes on the trail.

After a stretch, his uncle suddenly said,

“Ah Sui, you go ahead. I’ll head east to pick some pears for you to take.”

“No need. We’ve got plenty at home,” Lu Sui replied.

“Plenty, my ass. Think I don’t know?” The man smacked him on the back. “Go on, your aunt made rice cakes. I’ll be right behind you.”

Unable to refuse, Lu Sui simply said,

“Alright.”

They parted ways at the fork. Without his uncle leading, Lu Sui quickened his pace, long legs eating up the distance. Lifting his head to watch the road, his gaze again caught on the gē’er cutting pigweed.

Nearby, a boy carrying a basket was talking to him. The gē’er tilted his face upward, eyes crinkling with laughter, soft and bright like spring water in the stream.

Lu Sui froze for a moment, then quickly looked away, focusing on the path.

Yet his heart pounded—thud, thud, thud—not the exhilaration of the hunt, nor the tension of stalking prey, but some unfamiliar feeling he couldn’t name.

“Brother Táo, these are winter dates I picked. Mother says they’re not fully ripe yet, but they’re fresh. Want to try?”

Xia Qingtáo dipped his hands briefly in the stream to rinse them, then took the dates, popped one in his mouth, and bit down. Sweet juice burst across his tongue, the fresh flavor blooming with every chew.

“Mm, delicious. Thanks, Rui’er!”

Rui’er was his great-uncle’s younger cousin, twelve this year—also a gē’er.

“I’ll head back first, Brother Táo!” Rui’er waved and walked off with his basket.

“Careful on the road!” Xia Qingtáo called after him.

Just then, he noticed someone coming down the mountain—a tall figure unlike any he’d seen. Even his elder brother, considered tall, paled in comparison. This youth’s shoulders were broad, legs long, and Xia Qingtáo didn’t recognize him—likely from another village.

Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have stared so brazenly at a strange man, but curiosity won out. He found himself caught in a daze as the figure drew nearer, covering ground with long strides.

When he got a closer look, Xia Qingtáo realized the youth was around seventeen or eighteen, strikingly handsome—so fair and refined that even illustrations in romance novels couldn’t compare.

Flushing scarlet, Xia Qingtáo hurriedly lowered his gaze, though his heart thumped wildly, unsure why.

Footsteps approached, passed behind him, stirring a faint breeze—and soon faded into the distance.

Only when silence settled again did Xia Qingtáo come back to his senses, a touch of disappointment flickering in his chest as he resumed cutting grass.

Footnotes

1. 1. Juren (舉人): A successful candidate in the provincial-level imperial examination in imperial China, ranking above scholars (shengyuan) but below jinshi (metropolitan graduates). 

1. 1. Gē’er (哥儿): A term used in some historical Chinese settings to refer to male individuals with the ability to bear children, commonly seen in danmei and historical romance novels.