After Awakening, the Control Group’s Husband Decided to Lie Flat - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Gossiped About

Summer Qingtáo’s mother went to inform his distant maternal aunt, saying that their family could not possibly aspire to marry into the Scholar Li’s household. Of course, this was merely an excuse to decline politely — if they had truly thought it was unattainable, they would never have agreed to the matchmaking in the first place. Everyone understood it was Qingtáo who had turned down the scholar, which, in turn, caused the Li family to lose face.

Naturally, the Lis were not pleased. It was said that the scholar’s mother went about everywhere badmouthing Qingtáo’s family for being ungrateful and not knowing their place. Once word spread through Xià Village, the villagers whispered behind Qingtáo’s back, saying he didn’t know what was good for him. Even his own parents, Xià Xìngyuǎn and his wife, were accused of being muddle-headed: “Turning down such a fine family like the Lis — what are they waiting for? A top-ranking scholar? A palace graduate? Better hope he doesn’t end up unable to marry at all!”

Xià Xìngyuǎn loathed gossip more than anything. For days, he had gone about with a stormy expression. Qingtáo, though pretending not to care, could not help but feel upset by the whispers he overheard. Thus, the entire household remained under a heavy cloud of gloom.

The day before the Double Ninth Festival1, at first light, Qingtáo joined his sister-in-law and a few other women to head into the mountains to pick zhūyú2 berries. On this festival, every household would place zhūyú at their doorways to ward off misfortune, and if they went too late, the berries in the hills would already be picked clean. Moreover, the mountains were abundant this season with wild fruits and medicinal herbs — the earlier one went, the better the harvest.

His sister-in-law, Xìnghuā, knowing he was in low spirits, stuck close by, chatting with him the whole way. Rùi’er and Qiūyàn, still children, were blissfully unaware of the gossip and chattered happily with him.

“Qingtáo-ge! Qingtáo-ge! There’s a chengtú-bubble tree here!”
“Wow, such a big one!”

“Alright, let me see.”

Not far ahead came the voices of Qiūyàn and Rùi’er. Qingtáo walked over and indeed found a large nán wǔ wèi zǐ tree — its fruits colloquially called “chengtú bubbles” by the locals. They hung in clusters; when red, they were tart and salty, but once they turned black, they became sweet. The ones before them were already dark and ripe.

“Qingtáo-ge, help me pick! I can’t reach!” Qiūyàn called out excitedly, pointing to the branches.

“Alright, I’ll get them.”

Qingtáo pushed aside some branches, stood on tiptoe, pulled a bough downward, pinched, tugged — and in one swoop, plucked down a handful of the berries.

He picked while Qiūyàn and Rùi’er caught them in their clothes, circling the tree trunk until they had gathered all they could reach.

After wiping the berries clean on their clothes, the three of them sat beneath the tree and shared them out.

The black chengtú bubbles were fully ripe now — mostly sweet, lightly tart, and only bitter if one accidentally bit into the seed. Their taste rivaled that of grapes, utterly delightful.

The south had no shortage of fruit, but for peasant families with limited land, the lean autumn-winter months left them craving. Wild fruits like these were perfect for easing such cravings.

After eating two clusters each, they divided the rest into bamboo baskets and went off to find Xìnghuā and the others, who were still gathering zhūyú.

Walking east past several old tea bushes, Qingtáo suddenly heard women’s voices ahead. Thinking it was his sister-in-law and aunt, he cheerfully prepared to call out — only to hear one say:

“…Isn’t it true? He even turned down the scholar. Does he think he’s so great? People say he’s capable, but honestly, what does he even do? Cooking and washing clothes — is that even real work?”

He froze mid-step.

Then another voice, disdainful, chimed in:

“Him? He’s just full of himself because he knows a few characters! Xià Mián is the most beautiful gē’er3 across eighteen mountain villages — what is he in comparison? Trying to climb into the branches? He should look at his own worth first!”

Qingtáo pressed his lips together, a surge of heat boiling in his chest.

“Qingtáo-ge, why aren’t you moving?” Qiūyàn’s loud voice rang out. At once, the women ahead fell silent.

“Nothing,” Qingtáo swallowed, forced a smile, and said lightly, “I just heard two crows calling — wanted to see how awful they sounded.”

“Huh? Where are the crows? I wanna hear too! Rùi’er-ge, have you ever heard crows before?”

“I—I haven’t either…”

Leading the children forward, Qingtáo soon came face-to-face with two scowling individuals: Wáng Jīnguì, daughter-in-law of Shuǐgēn’s family, and her co-sister-in-law Jīn Yuèshēng from Dàhǔ’s household.

The moment they met, Jīnguì, emboldened by the presence of two children with Qingtáo, puffed herself up and barked:

“Who are you calling a crow, huh? You’re the one trying to perch in high branches — what’s so wrong with saying it?”

“Exactly!” Jīn Yuèshēng echoed. “We’re your elders, aren’t we? What’s wrong with us talking about you?”

In village hierarchy, Qingtáo’s family ranked low. Even if only a few years older, these two counted as his “aunties.”

Originally, Qingtáo hadn’t planned to engage. But now that they were openly insulting him, how could he let it slide? He smiled coolly, voice steady:

“Oh? So you get to talk trash just because you can’t do any better? Auntie Jīnguì, weren’t you and your brother-in-law’s family just fighting over splitting the household? Has that been settled yet? I heard the elders saying — not me, mind you — that it’s awfully unfilial to divide the family estate while your parents are still alive…”

“You—!”

“And you,” Qingtáo turned to Jīn Yuèshēng, “the grannies say you’re stingy to the bone — always hoarding the good stuff, hiding it even from your in-laws, letting food rot rather than share. They said maybe you need a stricter mother-in-law to knock some sense into you…”

“Th-they’re lying!” Jīn Yuèshēng’s face flushed crimson. “Our family business is none of their damn concern!”

Qingtáo sneered.

“Funny, didn’t you just say elders can say whatever they like? So what’s wrong if I repeat it?”

“You! You—!” Jīn Yuèshēng spluttered, on the verge of cursing, when Aunt Chūnmiáo suddenly emerged from the thicket, shouting:

“You what, huh? Bullying my Qingtáo like this? You two call yourselves aunties, yet you pick on a boy half your size? What a disgrace — say that out loud and see who doesn’t laugh at you!”

Sister-in-law Xìnghuā followed close behind, yelling:

“Exactly! Spewing crap and stinking up the zhūyú grove — get lost already!”

Faced with superior numbers and two notoriously fierce women, Jīnguì and Yuèshēng didn’t dare linger. They spat toward the ground and scurried off.

“Ignore them,” Chūnmiáo said to Qingtáo. “Always wagging their tongues, thinking they’re something special — pah!”

“I’m fine,” Qingtáo smiled. “We picked some chengtú bubbles — try them!”

He and the children handed out the berries.

As the sun climbed higher, the forest grew stifling. When they had gathered enough, the group descended the mountain.

Back in the village, everyone split up to return home. Qingtáo and Xìnghuā were laughing together as they walked toward their house when, from a distance, they spotted a carriage parked nearby — a stately chestnut horse, a spotless, elegant carriage, and a boy servant holding the reins while villagers gawked curiously.

Approaching closer, they saw it was parked before Xià Mián’s house. Qingtáo’s great-aunt was there too and exclaimed upon seeing them:

“Mián’er’s home for Double Ninth! Ah, just look — now a county-official’s husband, draped in silks and satins, glittering with gold and silver jewelry, with servants in tow — truly remarkable!”

The onlookers chimed in:

“Tsk, tsk! That carriage alone must cost a fortune!”
“Fènghuā’s so blessed — birthing such a pretty son. She’ll never worry about food or clothing in this lifetime. People, eh? No comparing them!”

Qingtáo naturally knew how grand Mián’s life had become. When Mián married in March, the county magistrate’s family had given fifty taels of silver as bride price, plus gold bracelets and hairpins, dazzling enough to blind the villagers — none of them had ever seen so much gold and silver in their lives.

Back then, Qingtáo had been consumed with envy, thinking that though he lacked Mián’s beauty, his own skillfulness would surely secure him a good match.

But now, Qingtáo no longer felt jealous. Fate was fate — no amount of envy could change it. Gold and silver meant nothing compared to living one’s days in peace.

Thus, without lingering, he and his sister-in-law headed straight inside.

Today, aside from zhūyú, they had also gathered wild chrysanthemums, pears, chestnuts, and bāyuèzhà4, filling an entire basket.

Together, he and Xìnghuā sorted and washed the wild fruits, then cleaned the chrysanthemums in preparation for tomorrow’s chrysanthemum cakes.

The Double Ninth Festival was tomorrow. Their tradition was to hang zhūyú at the doorway, eat chrysanthemum cakes, and honor the ancestors. This year, it was their turn to host the ancestral feast, so preparations had to be thorough.

“Ā Suí, have you packed everything?” Lù Suí’s mother wiped her patched apron as she stepped out to the gate. “Up there in the mountains alone — remember to eat properly. Don’t go starving one day and stuffing yourself the next. It’ll ruin your health.”

“Everything’s packed.” Lù Suí placed his spare clothes onto the cart, accepted a small pouch of hand-washing nuts from his younger brother Lù Yán, and added it atop the load. “Keep an eye on the house. If anything happens, go straight to Uncle’s place.”

“I know, gē.” Yán was no stranger to minding the house — whenever Suí followed their master into the mountains before, Yán had stayed behind. Their father’s illness had cost them five acres of land, leaving only eight. At fourteen, Yán was already half a laborer; between him and their mother, plus their uncle’s help, they just about managed.

Looking up at his tall, dependable brother, Yán said quietly:

“You be careful too, gē.”

“Yes.” Their mother’s face was lined with worry. In the past, Suí always went into the mountains with his master, but now that the old man could no longer make the journey, Suí went alone — deep into the old forest with only a dog for company. How could she not fret? She followed him to the gate, eyes brimming with reluctance. “Whether or not you find anything, come back early. We won’t starve.”

“Alright, Ā Niáng. Go back inside — I’m off.” Suí grasped the cart’s handle and waved them home. “Go on.”

Their house lay close to the mountains; a few turns and the path became rugged. Pulling even a small cart along such rocky trails was arduous.

Suí glanced at the still-low sun and quickened his pace.

Their family was poor to begin with, and their father’s two-year illness had drained every last coin. All borrowable debts had been borrowed — yet still they’d lost him. The money Suí had earned in the past year and a half, trekking the mountains, had all gone to repaying loans. Now only five taels of silver remained. With winter coming, food was scarce. Forget marrying — even surviving till the New Year would be a struggle.

He wasn’t their biological son. Years ago, his parents, childless at the time, had found him abandoned in a mountain hollow and raised him as their own. Even after Lù Yán was born, they’d shown no favoritism. Suí, quiet and undemonstrative as he was, remained deeply grateful. Marriage and children could wait — first, he wanted to help the family save up, make life better.

Thinking of marriage inexplicably brought to mind that gē’er he’d glimpsed in Xià Village. Had he wed yet? The boy had looked so neat and well-kept — surely from a well-off family. Not someone a pauper like him could ever hope for.

Suí lifted his dark eyes. Ahead lay the mountains — winding, rugged, hushed and deep. Whatever awaited him beyond… he could not yet know.

notes

1. Double Ninth Festival (重陽節, Chóngyáng Jié): A traditional Chinese festival held on the ninth day of the ninth lunar month. It involves climbing mountains, admiring chrysanthemums, and warding off misfortune with zhūyú (dogwood). ↩

2. Zhūyú (茱萸): Also known as Cornus officinalis, its fruit and leaves were traditionally believed to repel evil and disease when worn or hung at doors during the Double Ninth Festival. ↩

3. Gē’er (哥儿): A historical term in some Chinese BL/danmei novels referring to males who can bear children; socially recognized as “husband-sons” or “husband-wives.” ↩

4. Bāyuèzhà (八月炸): A wild fruit also called “August explosion,” native to southern China, which splits open naturally in autumn revealing sweet pulp. ↩