After the Sweet Little Husband Got Remarried - Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The vegetable seedlings had all been planted, and by the following day, the bamboo fence was finished as well.

A few days earlier, Shen Ying had mentioned that once the rice planting was done, he would find a carpenter to make a bathing tub. Taking advantage of the idle day, he borrowed a mule cart from the Jiang family and brought Lu Lu along to Zhao Village.

In a few days, he would have to go hunting in the mountains with Jiang Song again. It was early spring, and animals that had slept through the winter were beginning to emerge. Though not as plump as in autumn or winter, catching a few would still bring in some silver.

Before seeing the carpenter, Shen Ying first led Lu Lu to the home of an old potter who lived at the entrance of Zhao Village.

Their household only had one iron pot and a few large jars—none suited for pickling vegetables—so they planned to buy several jars, along with a clay pot for stewing soup and cooking porridge.

Zhao Village was closer to the county town, and most villagers there shared the same surname. Hearing that they wanted to buy jars, the old potter led them into his courtyard’s earthen kiln where he made pottery.

Shen Ying let Lu Lu pick. Lu Lu examined the jars carefully and chose three—one for pickling sour vegetables, one for making brined pickles, and another for preserving salted duck eggs later on.

It was said that when choosing jars, one had to listen to the sound they made—the clearer the tone, the better the quality. So, Lu Lu bent down, pressed his ear close to the jar’s mouth, and lightly tapped its wall with his finger.

After listening, he straightened up and said to Shen Ying, “Let’s take these.”

The old potter glanced at Shen Ying, then smiled and asked, “Is this your spouse?”

Shen Ying nodded.

The potter chuckled, saying warmly, “Your husband is quite clever.”

Lu Lu flushed a little, explaining softly, “I once saw my father pick them this way.”

The old potter studied him for a moment, a flicker of recognition passing over his features. “You’re from Shiqiao Village, aren’t you? Would your father happen to be surnamed Lu?”

Lu Lu nodded. Hearing his father mentioned after so long, his eyes widened slightly in surprise. “You knew my father?”

“No wonder you looked familiar,” the potter said, stroking his beard. “Yes, I once passed through Shiqiao Village years ago. I remember stopping by your house and asking your father for a bowl of water.”

Shen Ying smiled. “What a coincidence.”

Lu Lu echoed softly, “Indeed, what a coincidence.”

He hadn’t expected to meet someone who still remembered his father. When his father first passed away, many in their village had spoken of him, often with sighs of regret. But as the years went by, no one mentioned him anymore. It had been a long time since Lu Lu had heard his father’s name spoken aloud.

“After that day, I never went back to Shiqiao Village,” the old potter said. Then he asked, “And how has your father been all these years?”

Lu Lu’s expression dimmed. After a brief pause, he lowered his gaze and said softly, “My father passed away many years ago. But thank you for remembering him.”

The potter fell silent, his face shadowed with sympathy. “Ah… may he rest well.”

Sensing the heaviness that lingered in his husband’s eyes, Shen Ying reached out and gently patted his back. “Shall we look around a bit more?” he said in a low, soothing voice.

Lu Lu nodded quietly.

They browsed through the kiln a while longer and picked out an additional clay pot for stewing.

In memory of that single bowl of water years ago, the old potter gave them a discount. The three jars, one clay pot, and one earthen stew pot came to a total of 230 wen (copper coins), but he waived 30 and charged them only 200.

After packing everything onto the mule cart, they thanked the potter and set off toward the western edge of the village to find the carpenter.

The carpenter’s house sat on the far side of Zhao Village. When they arrived, the old carpenter was away at work, leaving only his son at home, also a carpenter.

After Shen Ying explained that he wanted a wooden bath tub made, he asked about the price and how long it would take.

The young carpenter was straightforward. “Depends on the wood you use. If I work fast, half a month; slower, a full month. Just pay a deposit of 100 wen now, and settle the rest when it’s done. If you can’t come collect it, I can deliver it myself.”

Shen Ying then asked what types of wood were available. The man led them to the backyard, where planks were stacked neatly—mostly cedar and elm from the mountains, commonly used for making furniture or steamers.

“For a bath tub,” the man said, patting a plank, “cedar will do just fine—200 wen for that. If you want cypress, though, it’ll cost 300 more.”

Since it was something meant for his husband, Shen Ying naturally wanted his opinion. “What do you think?” he asked gently. “Which one do you prefer?”

Lu Lu thought for a moment. “Cedar is fine.”

Seeing how the two spoke to each other with quiet respect, the carpenter gave them a knowing smile and asked casually, “Your new spouse, then?”

Shen Ying nodded. “Mm. We married not long ago.”

Indeed, it had been less than a month since their wedding. Because of the family split, they’d only just moved into the old house at the foot of the hill and hadn’t yet bought much—just a bed and a wardrobe.

The carpenter thought for a moment, then said, “I actually have one ready-made, if you don’t mind.” He motioned for them to follow him back to the front courtyard. “A family in the village ordered it at the end of last year, made from cypress. It was meant for a wedding, but they called off the engagement early this year, and the tub’s been sitting here ever since.”

He went on, “If you want it, I’ll give you a discount—350 wen. How about it?”

Shen Ying stepped closer to examine it, running his hand along the rim and bringing his fingers to his nose. The faint scent of cypress lingered there—it was indeed genuine.

Because it was tied to a broken engagement, people saw it as unlucky, and since cypress was pricier than cedar, the tub had gone unsold.

Seeing them hesitate, the carpenter added, “It’s a big one—enough for two people. You’ve seen the quality yourself. The wood’s top-grade, and I don’t deal in fakes.”

At that, Shen Ying exchanged a glance with Lu Lu. After a moment’s thought, he nodded. “All right, we’ll take it. My mule cart’s right outside—could you help us load it up?”

Commissioning a new one would take half a month, and this ready-made cypress tub was sturdy and well-made.

And, most importantly, it was large enough for two people to bathe together.

On the way back, they took a shorter path rather than the one they’d come by. Once home, they unloaded everything first.

After feeding the mule, Shen Ying returned the cart to the Jiang family, while Lu Lu boiled water and washed the newly bought jars and pots.

A few nights ago, after they’d eaten at the Jiang household, Jiang Song and Du Qinghe had sent them home with some fresh vegetables. Lu Lu had hung them under the eaves to dry; now that they had jars, it was time to pickle them into sour greens.

Once the jars were clean, he left them upside down in the courtyard to dry. The wild vegetables and bamboo shoots from previous days had finished drying too; he gathered them all inside for storage, to be used in stews come winter.

When Shen Ying returned, Lu Lu was kneading salt into the vegetables in a wooden basin.

Through repeated rubbing, the leaves and stems would soften, releasing moisture. Then they could be packed tightly into jars, sealed with water in the outer trough, and covered with a lid. The inside of the jar must never touch oil, or the pickles would spoil.

Shen Ying rolled up his sleeves. “Let me help.”

Lu Lu shook his head. “It’s fine, I can do it.”

Glancing at the overturned jars drying in the courtyard, Shen Ying guessed he had already cleaned them all. “Then I’ll go wash the bath tub.”

By the time the sauerkraut was packed, the jars were still drying. Once they were completely air-dried, he could seal them properly. Seeing the sky darken, Lu Lu washed his hands and went to prepare dinner.

Half a basket of the water celery Shen Sui had brought remained. He soaked half of it in rice water to ferment into pickled celery for stewing with tofu later in the week, and with the other half, he stir-fried it with slices of cured pork.

As for the tender thorn shoots, he blanched them and scrambled them with eggs.

The thorny branches made them harder to pick than toon shoots. He couldn’t help but wonder how that little girl had managed to gather so many.

Recalling how ravenously she’d eaten last time, Lu Lu looked across the table and said softly, “If she comes again next time, can we invite her to eat with us?”

Knowing he meant Shen Sui, Shen Ying nodded. “Of course.”

He then spoke briefly about the Shen family. “You’ve probably heard—her birth mother treats her poorly. She and the third son are twins. Their mother nearly died giving birth, and ever since, she’s favored the boy. To her, daughters and ge’ers are just burdens to be married off—unprofitable mouths to feed. She thinks even keeping them alive is generosity.”

When he still lived with them, Shen Ying could at least shield Shen Sui a little. Though their stepmother, Feng Xianglian, often made her do the hardest chores, at least the girl was fed.

Now that he was gone, things had clearly worsened. Judging by the way she’d been scavenging for roots by the rice field that day, she probably hadn’t been given a proper meal.

As for his father, Shen Wenlu, he turned a blind eye to it all. So long as nothing embarrassed him publicly, he ignored whatever happened under his own roof.

Lu Lu finally understood, and after a moment’s hesitation, he told Shen Ying about the day he had met Feng Xianglian by the pond while washing clothes.

He half-expected Shen Ying to be upset that he hadn’t mentioned it sooner, but instead, Shen Ying said firmly, “If she ever troubles you again, tell me. I’ll deal with her myself. No one will dare lay a hand on you while I’m here.”

Under the glow of the oil lamp, his eyes shone dark and steady, fixed intently on Lu Lu.

Lu Lu nodded quietly. “All right.”

The day’s work came to an end. After dinner, Lu Lu sealed the sauerkraut jars and Shen Ying helped move them into the kitchen.

The bath tub had already been scrubbed clean earlier. Afterward, Shen Ying carried it into the western room.

At night, the mountain wind turned cold, carrying the chill of early spring. Their hut stood close to the forest, and the nights were damp and cool. If they placed the tub in the shed, the hot water would cool too fast.

Using a gourd ladle, Shen Ying scooped steaming water from the pot into the wooden tub. He filled several buckets, added one of cool water, and tested the temperature with his hand before leaving the room.

At the doorway, he glanced back at his husband. “Go ahead and bathe,” he said softly. “Call me when you’re done—I’ll empty the water.”

Lu Lu stood beside the tub, hesitating. “You should wash inside too,” he murmured. “You’ll catch a chill.”

“It’s fine,” Shen Ying replied, his gaze lingering a heartbeat longer before looking away. His throat worked faintly. “I’ll bathe outside.”

And with that, he turned and stepped out into the night—
before his restraint gave way.