After Awakening, the Control Group’s Husband Decided to Lie Flat - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Meeting Xia Mian

The next day was the Double Ninth Festival1.

At dawn, Xia Qingtáo rose early. After feeding the chickens, ducks, and pig, he joined his mother in making chrysanthemum cakes and preparing the food for ancestral offerings.

His mother deftly mixed glutinous rice flour with water, kneading it into dough balls, while he was in charge of marinating the chrysanthemum petals in cane sugar syrup. Sugarcane itself wasn’t rare, but only grew in sandy soil; naturally, cane syrup was more expensive than raw sugarcane. Their family could only afford it during New Year or major festivals—at ordinary times, they used cheaper maltose.

Wild chrysanthemum cleared internal heat and detoxified the body, perfect for autumn’s tendency to cause inflammation. After washing the petals clean, Xia Qingtáo placed them in a bowl, poured in some cane syrup, and mixed it evenly with chopsticks. Soon, these would be wrapped inside the glutinous rice dumplings.

“Has Xinghua gone out yet?” his mother asked while kneading.

“She has.” Xia Qingtáo placed the petals onto a bamboo tray. “Sister-in-law hung the laundry and went out right after. She said going early means getting better cuts of meat.”

“That’s good. I worried she hadn’t gone yet and all the good pieces would be gone. Your sister-in-law’s got a better eye for meat than you. You’d get swindled and not even notice. If you get married and run your own household, your mother-in-law will scold you to death.”

Xia Qingtáo laughed. “If my mother-in-law’s that fierce, I wouldn’t marry at all.”

“Live together long enough and even the best people develop grudges.”

“But you and sister-in-law get along just fine!”

As they chatted, Xinghua walked in carrying a string of pork and a tray of tofu.

“Talking about me? I heard you as soon as I stepped in.”

Xia Qingtáo quickly rose to take the tofu from her hands, smiling.

“Mother said you’re good at picking meat and I’m not. She says if I marry, my mother-in-law will scold me to death.”

Wiping the fine sweat from her forehead, Xinghua laughed too.

“A smart boy like you just needs to choose meat a few more times to learn. But that cursed butcher—raising prices during festivals! Today it’s forty-two wen a jin2. Lucky I went early and snagged the best pork belly.”

She showed off the meat to the two of them.

“Mother, look! Isn’t it nice? Sixty wen, and he even threw in some pig’s blood as a bonus.”

“Anything you choose is good.” Mother laughed, then turned to Xia Qingtáo. “By the way, Qingtáo’er, I asked your aunt to buy a fish. Not sure if she’s back yet. Their family’s busy too—it wouldn’t be right to make them bring it over. Go to the jar in my room, count thirty wen, and fetch it from them.”

“Alright.” Xia Qingtáo left the main hall, went into his parents’ room, counted thirty wen, and stepped outside toward his aunt’s house. But just as he reached the door, he paused, turned back toward the hall—and overheard Xinghua speaking in a low voice to his mother:

“…He even came straight to me, saying your little brother can’t get married and should marry his lame younger brother instead. You know as well as I do—he broke his leg stealing chickens and dogs! And that kind of person dares set his sights on our Qingtáo? I was so mad I nearly hit him. Only because it’s a holiday did I let him off with a scolding. Next time I see him, I swear I’ll beat him!”

Xia Qingtáo didn’t listen further. He turned and walked out.

Passing Xia Mian’s house, he noticed the carriage still at the gate. Inside, things were bustling—young wives and fūláng3 were helping out, likely feasting in celebration of Xia Mian’s return.

Xia Qingtáo’s heart felt heavy, sodden like waterlogged cotton. He hadn’t married the scholar—would he ever find a good match? Would he fail to marry into scholarly circles, fail to find a husband he liked, and let the years slip by in vain?

Lost in thought, he arrived at his aunt’s house. His younger cousin Huzi was stoking the kitchen fire and greeted him:

“Brother Táo, you’re here! Mother was just saying I should take the fish over to your place later.”

Xia Qingtáo smiled. “How could I trouble you to deliver it?”

Just then, his aunt emerged, silver bangles on her wrists jingling as she wiped her apron and smiled.

“Qingtáo’er, perfect timing. I was just saying Huzi would bring it to you—come look.”

He followed her to a wooden basin where two silver carp swam leisurely.

“Everything’s gone up for the festival. Luckily we bought together; cheaper that way. See, this one’s bigger—twenty-seven wen. The smaller one’s twenty. Our family’s fine with either—your family want the big or the small?”

Xia Qingtáo looked carefully. “Father and brother both love fish—let’s take the big one.”

“Alright. Let me find some straw rope.” Aunt bent down, pinned the fish expertly, and threaded it through. “Oh, and I ran into that fish seller today—he asked about you. Says he’s got a nephew, a bricklayer, hardworking and honest. Want me to set you two up? Or should I talk to your mother?”

Xia Qingtáo flushed slightly. “Talk to Mother. I don’t meddle in that…” He handed her twenty-seven wen. “Here’s the money, Aunt—count it.”

“No need, no need… Alright, I’ll tell your mother.” She passed him the fish. “Careful, it’s alive—might thrash and break loose.”

“Got it!”

Carrying the fish, Xia Qingtáo hurried home. Passing Xia Mian’s house again, he saw Xia Mian at the courtyard gate. Upon seeing him, Xia Mian lit up and greeted warmly:

“Táozi! Long time no see—why haven’t you come to visit me?”

“Mianmian.” Xia Qingtáo noted the fine pale yellow silk Xia Mian wore, adorned with gold hairpins and bracelets—he looked even more radiant than before. “Festival preparations kept me busy.”

Xia Mian sighed dramatically. “You’re always so capable! Unlike me—I do nothing but wait for meals. You don’t know, my husband even hired two servants just to look after me. Now if I want an apple, someone peels it for me. Oh—right, you probably don’t know what an apple is, do you? It’s a fruit from the north—big, sweet, crisp, and so tasty!”

Listening to his boasting, Xia Qingtáo wanted to retort but ended up only smiling.

“Mother’s waiting for me to clean the fish. I’ll come by another time.”

“Alright.” Xia Mian sounded reluctant. “I wanted to bring you into the household too. The groom’s family’s horse keeper, Feng Si, has a son. If you marry him, we could see each other often…”

Xia Qingtáo pressed his lips into a thin smile, said nothing, and carried the fish into his courtyard.

Mother was still making chrysanthemum cakes, while sister-in-law tended the stove, boiling pork. Festivals and major holidays required offerings of chicken, fish, and pork; the Double Ninth wasn’t a major one, so there was no chicken—only boiled pork and fried fish.

“You’re back. How much was the fish?”

“Twenty-seven wen. Aunt bought two; I picked the bigger one. Father and brother both love fish.”

At the kitchen, Xia Qingtáo grabbed a basin and scissors. Standing under the eaves, he slammed the fish against the stone slab; it flopped weakly.

While it still twitched, he deftly scaled and gutted it.

Xinghua, feeding the fire, asked,

“Who were you talking to outside just now?”

“Mianmian.” Xia Qingtáo scooped out the gills and slit the belly. “He said he wants me to marry the horse keeper’s son at his husband’s manor.”

Xinghua burst out laughing in anger.

“Why didn’t you scold him? Marrying a clean, proper gē’er to a slave? The nerve!”

Hearing his sister-in-law’s outrage, Xia Qingtáo wasn’t angry anymore—he even smiled.

“He probably thinks marrying into the magistrate’s household is better than marrying a farmer.”

“I honestly don’t get it.” Xinghua shoved more wood into the stove, poking the fire with a stick. “He’s useless at everything. Why would the magistrate’s son even like him? Just for his face? That can’t be it…”

Xia Qingtáo chuckled, fetching water. “Fate, I guess. Let’s drop it—people will think we’re jealous.”

“What’s there to be jealous of?” Xinghua sniffed. “We live solid lives—eat our fill, stay warm. Nothing wrong with that.” She paused. “Smell that? This pork’s amazing. Make a dipping sauce later—everyone’ll eat three bowls of rice!”

Xia Qingtáo smelled the savory pork too. Their family seldom ate meat—how could they not crave it?

After cleaning the fish, he set up a pan to fry it. Their family planted half an acre of sesame each year, paid to have it pressed into oil, and used it sparingly through the year. Oil was costly; most cooking was steaming or boiling. Dishes that drank oil—eggs, eggplants—were even rarer.

He fried the fish skillfully; soon, the kitchen filled with rich aroma. At that moment, Mother finished the chrysanthemum cakes and moved them to another pot to steam rice and cakes together.

Xia Qingtáo busied himself washing and chopping vegetables, then mixed soy sauce—minced garlic, added to soy sauce, a splash of vinegar for dipping boiled pork. The fragrant, savory flavor was irresistible.

Just then, his grandmother arrived. Xia Qingtáo had invited her that morning. She lived alone in the western old house and rotated holidays between her two sons’ families. This year, it was Xia Qingtáo’s turn to host.

The old lady remained sprightly, neatly dressed, even her hair combed smooth. Entering the kitchen, she clicked her tongue approvingly at the bustling nephew-sister-in-law duo.

“Qingtáo and Xinghua are the most capable—best cooks among all our daughters-in-law and fūláng. Your two aunts can’t compare. Lucky their mothers-in-law are kind; if it were me, I’d scold them to death!”

Xinghua grinned. “That’s only because you’re skilled, Grandma. Back then, our aunts never got to cook before marriage, so of course they’re not as good. And besides—anywhere else, their cooking would be considered top-notch!”

“Listen to that sweet tongue.” Grandma turned to Xia Qingtáo. “Qingtáo, learn from your sister-in-law.”

Then she asked,

“By the way, people are saying you turned down the scholar. So what kind of man do you want, if not even a scholar?”

Seeing Xia Qingtáo lower his lashes silently, Xinghua spoke up for him.

“Grandma, marriage depends on fate. If it’s not there, nothing can be done. With how capable Táozi is, he won’t stay single for long.”

“Oh, I just worry that thinking ‘there’s no rush’ will delay things! I’m waiting for great-grandchildren here!” Grandma clasped his wrist with her dry, thin hands and admonished,

“Don’t be too picky, Qingtáo. You’ve been clever since childhood—your great-uncle said you’d bring prosperity to your husband. Whichever man marries you will have good fortune!”

“I know, Grandma.” Not wanting to linger on the topic, Xia Qingtáo hurriedly carried the platter of pork—chopsticks already stuck upright—out of the kitchen.

Footnotes

1. Double Ninth Festival (重陽節): Also known as the Chrysanthemum Festival, a traditional Chinese holiday on the ninth day of the ninth lunar month, involving ancestor worship, mountain climbing, and drinking chrysanthemum wine. ↩

2. Wen (文): A unit of currency used in imperial China; 1 wen = 1 copper coin. ↩

3. Fūláng (夫郎): In danmei/historical settings, refers to a male spouse or husband, often used for male wives in polyandrous or gender-fluid social structures. ↩