After the Sweet Little Husband Got Remarried - Chapter 14

Chapter 14

In the backyard, Lin Chunlan caught a plump, round old hen and tied its legs with a strand of straw rope before handing it to Shen Ying. When he reached for his money pouch, she frowned and pretended to be cross.

“If you really mean to pay me,” she said, “then I’ll take back the pork you brought earlier, and don’t you dare bring me anything again after this.”

Shen Ying could only smile helplessly. After a brief back-and-forth, he finally gave in and did as she said. Then he handed another two hundred coins to Du Qinghe as payment for Lu Lu’s clothes.

Du Qinghe’s needlework was well-known; she usually charged for every piece she made. At first, she too refused, but after Shen Ying’s gentle insistence, she accepted—taking only a hundred coins for thread and labor, refusing the rest.

Once Lu Lu had tried on his new garment, he and Shen Ying left the Jiang household, carrying the tied-up chicken with them.

Lin Chunlan walked them to the gate. Just as they were about to leave, she called out to Shen Ying. Her voice softened, carrying a note of sincere warmth.

“You two have only just started your life together,” she said. “There’ll be plenty to buy and plenty to spend. Think of this chicken as my gift to Lu Lu. Whatever’s happened in the past, forget it—just live well from now on. If you do, your mother can rest easy in the afterlife.”

Shen Ying bowed his head slightly. “I understand, Auntie. Don’t worry—we’ll live well.”

Lu Lu followed softly, “Thank you, Auntie.”

Lin Chunlan smiled, waving her hand. “Good, good. Go on now.”

The trip had cost nearly seven hundred coins altogether, with the medicine being the most expensive part. The aconite paste alone cost three hundred—it was rare and difficult to make, requiring time and care to prepare even such a small jar.

When they got home, Shen Ying slaughtered the chicken and scalded it in boiling water to pluck the feathers before chopping it into pieces. Lu Lu placed the cuts into a clay pot and stewed a rich, milky broth.

The soup, infused with medicinal herbs, had a faint bitterness mellowed by a hint of sweetness. After simmering for two hours, the chicken was tender and fragrant, its flavor deep and savory.

Lu Lu couldn’t finish it alone and asked Shen Ying to eat as well. He did, but only took a few pieces and a single bowl of soup, leaving the rest for Lu Lu.

Perhaps it was the strength of the herbal broth, but that night, when he lay down, Shen Ying felt uncomfortably warm. Maybe the medicine had been a little too nourishing.

Though the spring air outside still held a trace of coolness, he turned over and, just like the other night, pulled his husband into his arms under the pretense of sleep. Lu Lu’s body was cool to the touch—soft, slender, and soothing in his embrace.

Lu Lu assumed Shen Ying had already drifted off and didn’t push him away. These past few nights, Shen Ying had always held him once he fell asleep.

At first, Lu Lu would lie stiff as a board, not daring to move. But gradually, almost without realizing it, he had grown accustomed to it.

Maybe it was the warmth from the chicken soup, or the closeness of their bodies, but that night Lu Lu’s throat felt strangely dry, his breath warm and shallow.

He kept his eyes closed, afraid of waking Shen Ying, and before long, he drifted off into a hazy, drowsy sleep.

Behind him, however, Shen Ying remained wide awake. The man in his arms was breathing softly, already deep in slumber. Shen Ying’s gaze fell upon the curve of Lu Lu’s pale neck, and his chest tightened with a heat he could no longer ignore.

After a long pause, he moistened his dry lips and slowly leaned in.

He would be gone for half a month—maybe longer—and the thought of parting made restraint impossible.

He pressed a light kiss to the back of Lu Lu’s neck. But that wasn’t enough. Sliding his arm around that slender waist, he brushed another faint kiss along the corner of Lu Lu’s face.

Fortunately, Lu Lu slept on, unaware. Not daring to disturb him further, Shen Ying only tightened his hold slightly and finally closed his eyes.

By the hour of dawn, the sky was still dark when Shen Ying rose. Seeing him stir, Lu Lu blinked awake, still half-asleep, and pulled on his clothes.

He looked so drowsy that Shen Ying reached over to tuck the quilt around him. “You don’t need to get up,” he said gently. “Sleep a bit longer. I can manage.”

Lu Lu shook his head, stubborn even in sleepiness, and followed him out of bed. His voice was soft and sticky with drowsiness. “I’ll make you breakfast first. You can eat before you go.”

He wrapped his robe tightly around himself and went to the kitchen. Splashing cold water on his face, he shook off the sleepiness, then scooped some flour from the jar and cracked a few eggs to make egg pancakes for Shen Ying to take on the road.

One of the ducks had laid eggs the previous day. He boiled both of them and packed them alongside the pancakes.

When Shen Ying saw, he frowned lightly. “Didn’t I tell you to keep those for yourself?”

Lu Lu slipped the eggs into his pack anyway. “The ducks will lay more. You take these. When you come back, I’ll pickle salted ones for you.”

Shen Ying’s expression softened. “All right. But make sure you eat properly too.”

Just then, a soft knock came from outside the fence. Both turned their heads toward the sound.

It was Jiang Song, already packed for the journey, with Huangdou and Heidou wagging their tails at his heels.

Shen Ying went to open the gate and invited him in, but Jiang Song waved it off. “No need. I’ve already eaten. My wife got up early to steam wild-vegetable buns, and I’ve still got some in my bag.”

Shen Ying handed him a few pancakes anyway. “Don’t be polite. Take them—and give some to Huangdou and Heidou.”

Jiang Song chuckled and accepted them. He ate one piece himself, then tore two more and tossed them to the dogs.

Huangdou swallowed his share in one gulp and looked up, tail wagging expectantly, while Heidou sniffed his piece first before chewing it slowly.

After breakfast, the eastern sky was still shrouded in darkness. Shen Ying and Jiang Song gathered their gear and set off into the mountains.

Lu Lu walked them to the gate. Shen Ying turned and waved for him to go back, but he stayed there watching until the two men’s figures disappeared down the path before returning inside.

They had been walking for a while when a faint silver light began to bloom on the horizon.

Noticing Shen Ying glancing back toward the village again and again, Jiang Song laughed. “What’s this? Missing him already?”

Shen Ying didn’t deny it—just gave a small nod.

They’d only been married less than a month. Just last night, his husband had been asleep in his arms, and now they wouldn’t see each other for half a month. Who wouldn’t feel reluctant?

Jiang Song smiled knowingly. “I was the same when I first married. Every time I went up the mountain, I couldn’t stop thinking of my wife. But the moment I remembered that the more I hunted, the more I could bring home for her—new clothes, silk flowers—suddenly it all felt worth it.”

He glanced toward the mountain pass ahead. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Mm,” Shen Ying replied, turning forward once more.

After Shen Ying’s departure, the house felt quiet and hollow. Each morning, Lu Lu went about his chores—tending the field, feeding the chickens and ducks.

They’d finished the last of the grain husks a few days earlier, but Shen Ying had bought more at the market, enough to mix with wild grass seeds for feed.

Once the animals were fed, Lu Lu gathered two fresh eggs from the nest and placed them in the kitchen basket.

The house, without Shen Ying, felt emptier than before. Even after two days, the stillness unsettled him. He swept the floor out of habit, then carried his hoe out to inspect the vegetable patch.

After the recent rains, the soil was soft, and the seedlings he had planted had begun to sprout. The little green leaves gleamed with morning dew.

While he was weeding, Jiang Huai appeared, carrying a basket on his back. He’d come to ask if Lu Lu wanted to go gather wild vegetables.

After hearing about Lu Lu’s plan to sell wild greens at the market, he’d eagerly agreed to go along. They’d arranged to meet that very morning.

Lu Lu asked him to wait by the yard while he put away the hoe. He took up a hatchet, slung a basket over his shoulder, and the two of them set out.

This time they chose a different path—avoiding the grove they’d visited before. With the recent rains, many villagers had been picking in the nearer hills, so the area was nearly stripped bare.

Jiang Huai led the way, calling back over his shoulder, “Let’s head deeper this time. Stay close to me, sister-in-law, and watch your footing.”

Lu Lu, unfamiliar with the terrain, nodded obediently and followed closely behind.

They descended a small slope where a stream ran below—wider and deeper than the one they’d crossed before. Flat stepping stones formed a path across the water, their mossy edges slick with age. Clearly, many had trodden this way before.

As Lu Lu stepped carefully from stone to stone, he noticed clusters of snails clinging to the rocks and glimpsed tiny shells and shrimp flickering beneath the water’s surface.

“Will we come back this way later?” he asked.

If they were, he planned to collect some of the snails and shells to crush into feed for the chickens and ducks.

Jiang Huai glanced back, understanding at once. “We will,” he said. “I’ll help you gather them on the way back.”

Satisfied, Lu Lu adjusted his basket and followed him into the forest’s depths.

Beyond the stream, the terrain rose sharply—a towering cliff face stretching dozens of zhang (about 100 feet) high.

They followed a narrow path along its base, winding through a dense forest whose canopy nearly shut out the sun.

Wild greens grew thick along the path—Indian aster, bitter lettuce, and clusters of tender wolfberry leaves. Some patches had already been picked clean, but new buds were sprouting in their place.

Lu Lu plucked as he walked, slipping handfuls into his basket.

The wolfberry leaves were slightly bitter, but blanched and cooked with pork liver, they made a crisp, refreshing soup. Later, when the plants bore fruit, the berries themselves could be dried for use.

The Indian aster and wild mustard were excellent stir-fried with cured meat or chopped fine and mixed with tofu.

As he was picking wolfberry leaves, Jiang Huai bent nearby, gathering asters, and called over teasingly, “So, Sister-in-law—now that Shen Ying’s been gone so many days, do you miss him yet?”

Lu Lu’s hand froze mid-reach. After a pause, he resumed plucking leaves, his ears faintly red.

These past few days, with Shen Ying gone, he couldn’t quite shake the sense that something vital was missing.

Jiang Huai grinned. “When my elder brother first went hunting after he married, my sister-in-law missed him terribly.”

Lu Lu’s lips twitched. He hesitated, then whispered shyly, “A little.”

“Only a little?” Jiang Huai laughed.

Lu Lu’s ears flushed deeper. He ducked his head, mumbling, “Th-this patch is done. Let’s go ahead.”