After Awakening, the Control Group’s Husband Decided to Lie Flat - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Urged to Marry

“Don’t forget the pears, Ah Sui. When you get home, remember to greet your mother for me!”
Lu Sui’s maternal aunt stuffed five wrapped pears into his arms. “Be careful on the road.”

“Alright.”
Carrying both his tools and the pears, Lu Sui bid farewell to his aunt and cousin, then set off for home.

His home wasn’t far from Xia Family Village; both were among the eighteen villages scattered along the mountains. It took about two ke on foot — roughly half an hour. The weather was crisp and clear, autumn sun high in the sky, neither too hot nor too cold — perfect walking weather.

Walking at a brisk pace, he reached his village in less than two ke. His home lay deep inside the village, near the mountainside, where there were fewer households but the tranquility was unmatched and the courtyard spacious.

When he reached the gate, it was already open. His younger brother, Lu Yan, was splitting firewood. Upon seeing him, Lu Yan called out:

“Brother, you’re back! Aunt Cuifen came by again just now.”

At these words, Lu Sui’s brows furrowed slightly. He placed his tools in a corner of the courtyard, shoved the pears into Lu Yan’s arms, and took the axe from his hands, saying:

“I’ll do it. Go wash the pears and tell Mother I’m back.”

“Okay!”
Lu Yan naturally stood up, yielding the small stool to his elder brother. Cradling the pears, he lowered his head to sniff them — the sweet scent of autumn pears filled his nose. “Smells so good! Uncle is really nice!”

They had two maternal uncles, but both were snobbish. Their household — a widowed mother with two sons — was poor and looked down upon. Only their third uncle from Xia Family Village treated them like real family.

“I’ll go tell Mother!”
Lu Yan dashed into the house with the pears.

A moment later, their mother came out. The sound of running water came from the kitchen, and soon she emerged with the pears in hand.

“Ah Sui, you just got back — rest a while.”

Lu Sui didn’t take the pears. “Mother, I’m not tired. I already had some snacks at Uncle’s place, and my hands are dirty. I won’t eat for now.”

“I’ll put them by the stove then. You can eat them later once you’re done.”

“Alright.”
Lu Sui kept chopping firewood without looking up.

“By the way, Aunt Cuifen came by again just now.” His mother wiped her hands on her apron unconsciously and smiled. “She said her niece has had you on her mind since she saw you — no other man catches her eye anymore.”

Seeing that Lu Sui didn’t respond, she continued:

“Cuifen’s brother is a butcher. The dowry won’t be lacking. She says her niece is pretty, too. We should think it over. Ah Sui, you’re almost eighteen now. Before, you said the village girls and boys were all too close to home. This one isn’t, right?”

Her Ah Sui was handsome and a skilled hunter. Though their family had little money, many girls and boys liked him for who he was.

Listening to this, Lu Sui’s mind involuntarily recalled the ge’er he had just seen by the creek in Xia Family Village. Subconsciously, he refused:

“I can earn money. I’ll save up for Ah Yan’s bride price too.”

His mother sighed. “That’s not what I meant, Ah Sui. Even though you aren’t my or your father’s biological son, I’ve always treated you and Ah Yan the same. Ah Yan is still young. His marriage expenses will be covered by me and himself. Are we the kind of people who’d rely on your wife’s dowry to marry him off? What kind of people would that make us?”

Lu Sui paused his work, gathered the chopped wood, and placed a rope he’d twisted himself underneath to tie it up.

“I know, Mother.”

He had always been a man of few words. His mother couldn’t tell what he was thinking, so she could only say:

“Just think it over yourself. If you get older and still don’t marry, people will gossip. And if you have someone you like, tell me — I can send a matchmaker. A good girl or ge’er is sought by many families; if you wait too long, someone else might take them.”

Lu Sui’s hands stilled for a moment, but in the end, he said nothing and carried the firewood away.

Seeing this, his mother shook her head and went back inside.

“Dinner’s ready, Qingxi. Go wash your hands!”

“Alright! Where’s Taozi?”

“In his room, probably.” Xinghua lowered her voice as she lifted the pot lid. “He’s upset today, don’t bother him.”

“Oh? What’s got him sulking again?” Xia Qingxi wiped his hands, stepped forward to carry the dishes, and asked, “Who upset him this time?”

“Isn’t it about Scholar Li…” Xinghua busied herself setting the table while explaining, “Yesterday the scholar went home and told Auntie that he really likes Taozi. At lunch today, Father mentioned it — he’s quite pleased with the scholar. But Taozi doesn’t like him, so he scolded him for it!”

“Tch, I thought it was something serious.” Qingxi went into the house to fetch chopsticks, then stood by Xinghua waiting for her to serve rice. “What’s so great about a scholar? He looks sickly. I could throw him ten feet with one hand!”

He flexed his fist dramatically in front of his wife.

Xinghua couldn’t help but laugh. “You think everyone’s like you — all brawn and no brains? He’s a scholar. He’s going to be an official someday…”

Once the table was set, the family gathered to eat.

Xia Qingtao was in low spirits. His father was very fond of Scholar Li, saying it was rare for the scholar to like him back. Though Scholar Li’s family wasn’t wealthy, his scholar status exempted them from taxes and corvée labor. Life would be easier. His father argued: if you don’t marry such a man, you’ll never find another like him.

Xia Qingtao, spoiled at home, didn’t dare talk back but wore a sullen face throughout dinner.

His elder brother, however, was unusually lively, chatting nonstop to lighten the mood.

Halfway through the meal, their mother spoke up:

“I went up the ridge to dig radishes earlier and ran into Ah Quan’s fūláng. He asked if the wedding date was set yet — said it’s rare for a scholar to be this taken with someone. I could only tell him we’ll see.”
(*Fūláng – in ancient Chinese BL contexts, refers to a male spouse in a same-sex marriage.)

Xia Qingtao wanted to say something, but his father cut in, displeased:

“Anyone with sense knows the scholar is a good match. If word gets out that we turned him down, won’t people laugh at us for not knowing our blessings?”

Indeed, that was the common view — Scholar Li might not be rich, but his title commanded respect. Many girls and ge’er dreamed of marrying him. For one to refuse him would invite gossip and ridicule.

Thinking of this, Xia Qingtao fell silent.

His brother, however, spoke up: “Who cares what people say? I don’t think the scholar is anything special!”

Their father glared at him. “What do you know? Eat your food!”

“What, can’t even talk now…” Xia Qingxi muttered under his breath and buried himself in his meal.

His father turned back to Xia Qingtao, dropping his stern air as family head and speaking earnestly:

“Qingtao, we’re not greedy people. Folks say the scholar’s a good man, and his title’s right there. It’s you who will live this life, not us. As parents, we only stand behind you. Do you think we’re hoping to profit from your husband’s family? The scholar likes you — he’ll treat you well. What more are you waiting for? Others would beg for such luck!”

The sincerity in his words eased Xia Qingtao’s irritation somewhat. Yet whenever he recalled the cruel face Scholar Li wore in his dreams after passing the exams, resistance bubbled up. And for some reason, the figure of the young man he’d seen by the creek yesterday kept flashing in his mind.

He thought: if only that man sent a matchmaker, even if he weren’t a scholar and came from a poor family, I’d still be happy.

With that thought, he bit his lip and remained silent.

By late autumn, night fell early. After washing dishes and cleaning up, darkness had thickened fully. Rural families saved oil; they rarely lit lamps unless necessary. The entire village lay in pitch blackness.

In Xia Qingtao’s room, a faint hemp-oil lamp flickered. His mother and sister-in-law often sat with him there, taking the opportunity to do needlework and earn a little extra for the household.

Xia Qingtao’s embroidery was excellent — the linen handkerchiefs he stitched sold for eight to ten wen each.* His family never asked for the money, so it all became his private savings. From when he first began selling them until now, he’d saved over six hundred wen.
(*Wen – ancient copper coins used as currency.)

His mother and Xinghua were discussing how the traveling peddler had tried to haggle down the price of their handkerchiefs. As they talked, his mother sighed and shifted the topic back to him:

“Not to nag, but Qingtao, if you married the scholar, you’d have rice and meat supplements every month. He earns money writing contracts and letters too. Why fuss over pennies?”

Before his mother, Xia Qingtao was far bolder. He lifted his chin. “What’s so great about that? I can write contracts and letters too!”

“Look at him,” his mother laughed, glancing at Xinghua. “Learned a few words and already thinks he’s better than a scholar!”

Xinghua chuckled along but said, “Mother, forced melons aren’t sweet. If Taozi really doesn’t like him, forget it. We’re just farmers; marrying into a higher family might not even be a blessing.”

His mother set down her needlework and fixed her gaze on Xia Qingtao.

“Qingtao, give me a straight answer. Do you want this or not?”

Xia Qingtao didn’t dare meet her burning eyes. His needle flashed up and down in silence.

“I really don’t like him. It’s not my fate.”

His mother pressed, “Are you sure? You won’t find another such good match again.”

Still stubborn, he avoided her gaze and hummed in reply.

Forget it. If it’s not his fate, better to choose someone he actually liked. Someone like that man from the creek…