After the Sweet Little Husband Got Remarried - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Although Lu Lu had seen Shen Ying twice before, he had never truly looked at his face in detail.

The first time Shen Ying came to the Lu household to propose, Lu Lu had just returned from cutting pigweed. His stepfather, disliking the dirt on him, forbade him from going into the main room. Peeking from behind the fence, he had only seen that the man was tall and broad-shouldered — a whole head higher than himself.

The second time was on the day of the betrothal, when Lu Lu fell into the water and Shen Ying saved him. Choking and gasping, he had nearly lost his breath; his lashes clung together with droplets, his eyes unable to open. He remembered only the man’s chest — firm, wide, and warm.

It was only when Shen Ying agreed to exchange the marriage that Lu Lu turned toward him in disbelief, catching a full glimpse of his face: a high, straight nose and strong, striking features — the kind of rugged handsomeness rarely seen in ten villages around.

Perhaps it was because of that, that even though Shen Ying was a hunter accustomed to blood and beasts, Lu Wei had agreed so readily to the Shen family’s proposal after seeing him.

As the red wedding veil was lifted, the world before Lu Lu brightened. He blinked, his long lashes trembling, and slowly raised his eyes. Before him was a sharply contoured face — and when his gaze rose higher, it met a pair of eyes deep and cold as a mountain pool.

Shen Ying stood before the bed, his long black hair neatly tied, his crimson wedding robe accentuating the tall, commanding line of his figure.

They looked at each other for a moment. Lu Lu, feeling the weight of that gaze, grew uneasy, lowering his head and turning slightly aside. A faint blush crept across his pale cheeks.

Seeing this, Shen Ying quickly regained his composure. The red veil still rested in his hands, but he didn’t know where to set it down.

The young bride before him looked particularly delicate — the wedding robe hung loose on his slender frame, his head bowed, revealing a stretch of snow-pale neck. Between his brows, the small birthmark seemed almost painted with rouge, its color vivid against his fair skin.

Shen Ying drew his gaze away, set the veil carefully by the bed, and after a pause, asked, “Have you eaten enough? I can bring you a bit more.”

Lu Lu shook his head lightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “N-no, thank you… I’m full.”

Silence fell again. Both seemed awkward and at a loss. Shen Ying stood there a while longer before saying, “Then I’ll go heat some water — you should wash your face and feet before sleeping.”

Lu Lu nodded softly, murmuring an almost inaudible “mm.”

Receiving that faint response, Shen Ying turned and left the room, heading to the kitchen to boil water. Once he was gone, the room was once again quiet, leaving Lu Lu alone with the flickering oil lamp.

When he had removed his veil earlier, he hadn’t dared to look around for fear someone might see him. Now, by the dim glow of the lamp on the table, he quietly surveyed the space that was to be his new home.

There was only a bed, a wooden table, and a wardrobe half as tall as a man. His one small chest — the sum of his dowry — had been placed atop the wardrobe. The bed stood at an angle facing the window, which looked out onto the small courtyard enclosed by an earthen wall.

Though sparsely furnished, the room was spotless; not a trace of dust lingered in the corners. Clearly, Shen Ying was not the slovenly sort.

When the water was ready, Shen Ying wrung out a clean cloth, carried the basin of steaming water inside, and left again to wash himself in the courtyard.

Though they were now married, it was their first night together, and his new husband was timid by nature. He feared frightening him further. Besides, the house lacked a bathing tub — they could not have washed together even if they wished.

Inside, Lu Lu reached out to test the water.

The heat had been tempered with a little cool water — just the right temperature. Hearing the sound of splashing outside, he knew Shen Ying was bathing. His face warmed at the thought, and he slowly lifted the cloth from the basin’s edge.

At the Lu household, he had always slept in the woodshed. Because he tended the pigsty and chicken coop, his stepfather complained that he smelled, forbidding him from sleeping indoors. The man had laid a single wooden plank in the shed to serve as his bed.

He was not allowed to burn wood for hot water, so he bathed with cold water all year round. At first, he had truly believed himself to smell foul — scrubbing himself raw with soap pods again and again — until he later realized his stepfather simply sought fault where there was none, disliking him for his very existence.

Tradition dictated that a ge’er must bathe before his wedding day, washing away the dust of the old life before donning the wedding robes. So that morning, Lu Lu had already scrubbed himself clean from head to toe; now he merely needed to wipe himself down with the warm water.

Even knowing this was not the Lu household, even knowing there was no odor upon him, he still lifted his arm and discreetly sniffed it — just to make sure — before hurrying to the bed to lie down, afraid Shen Ying might return too soon.

By the time Shen Ying re-entered, Lu Lu was already beneath the quilt. The lamp had been gently blown out, plunging the room into darkness. Soon, the mattress dipped slightly as a warm, solid presence settled beside him.

Lu Lu kept his eyes tightly shut, motionless. He knew little of what transpired on a wedding night — only what he’d overheard from married ge’ers while working in the fields. They said that all one had to do was lie still, no matter what the man did, and that even if it hurt, one must endure without making a sound.

He didn’t understand why it would hurt, but he clenched his lips together and resolved to stay silent no matter what came.

In the darkness, his body trembled faintly.

Shen Ying, seeing the slight figure beside him shivering, hesitated. He had intended to wrap an arm around him, but the sight of such fearful stillness stilled his hand midway.

After all, he was not the one Lu Lu was meant to marry. If not for his act of rescue, Lu Lu would now be spending this night with that scholar surnamed Song — not lying here beside him.

Yet even knowing how things turned out, if time were turned back, he would still have saved him without hesitation.

After a long pause, he drew his hand back and spoke softly near Lu Lu’s ear. “Sleep.”

For a while, nothing moved. Then, hearing that quiet word, Lu Lu stilled — and gradually, the tension left his body.

If he hadn’t fallen into the river that day, Shen Ying would never have saved him; he and Lu Wei would not have exchanged their marriages. If things had gone as planned, the one lying beside Shen Ying tonight would be his stepbrother.

That thought alone made sleep elusive.

The night deepened. On the bed, the two lay side by side, each lost in their own thoughts.

Meanwhile, in Qinghe Village, at the Song household, Lu Wei sat upon the bridal bed, waiting for his veil to be lifted.

Outside, the guests were still drinking; Song Sheng was in the main hall entertaining them. Growing impatient, Lu Wei, finding himself alone, lifted a corner of the veil to peek around.

The Song family lived at the far western edge of Qinghe Village, in a few earthen-tiled houses. Only Song’s widowed mother remained at home — the two living off each other’s company.

To save money for her son’s studies, the woman had not held a grand wedding banquet — only invited a few of their distant kin and served several simple tables of food.

To call this place a bridal chamber was generous — it was more like a cluttered storeroom.

On the east side stood a bed draped with red silk, opposite a dusty wardrobe. By the window sat a desk buried beneath piles of scrolls. In the corners, several large jars of unknown use stood collecting cobwebs. The room was crowded with odds and ends, and beneath the bed, the chamber pot had not been scrubbed in ages. A sour, unpleasant odor lingered in the air.

That morning, before leaving home, Lu Wei had eaten a bowl of noodle soup with egg. By now, he should have been hungry — yet the stench of the room killed his appetite.

Had it been in the past, he would never have agreed to marry into such a poor household.

This all began two months ago.

One late night two months prior, Lu Wei had a dream. In it, both he and his timid stepbrother married on the same day — he to the hunter, and his stepbrother to the scholar to whom he had been betrothed since birth.

At first, both marriages seemed good. But in the dream, tragedy followed: the hunter he married broke his leg on a hunt, becoming a cripple who could neither climb the mountain nor till the fields. They lived together in a few dilapidated huts, their life growing harder by the day.

Meanwhile, his stepbrother’s poor scholar became a xiucai — a licentiate — within a few years. Taking his widowed mother and husband, he moved to the county town, living in a spacious house. His stepbrother, as the scholar’s spouse, basked in prestige and envy.

At first, Lu Wei had dismissed it all as a dream. But then the dream repeated, night after night, always ending the same way.

Then, last month, word came from Shuitang Village — the hunter surnamed Shen had quarreled with his father and stepmother, splitting from the family to live in the old house at the foot of the mountain. The event matched the dream exactly. Panic took hold of him.

Why should that cowardly, useless stepbrother end up a scholar’s spouse, while he was doomed to a crippled hunter’s bed? Lu Wei refused to accept it. Fear crept in — fear that the dream might become reality.

Thus, the idea of swapping marriages took root.

If they exchanged fiancés — if his stepbrother married the hunter, and he married the scholar — then the xiucai’s husband in the dream would be himself. He would escape hardship, live in comfort, and one day bring his father to the county town to live in luxury.

His plan had been to first ensnare Song Sheng, then secretly exchange marriages on the wedding day. Once the deed was done, it would be too late to reverse.

But fate moved faster — on the day of the betrothal, he and Song Sheng were discovered by his stepbrother.

He had thought himself ruined — yet, by a twist of luck, his stepbrother slipped and fell into the river, only to be saved by the hunter. And through that incident, their marriages were completely reversed.

It was as if even the heavens favored him.

The Song family’s relatives drank until deep into the night before departing. When Song Sheng finally entered the bridal chamber, Lu Wei was half-dozing on the bed.

The man reeked of wine, his steps unsteady. Without even lifting the veil, he collapsed onto the bed beside him.

After waiting a while and receiving no movement, Lu Wei finally lifted the veil himself. Seeing the man sprawled beside him, stinking of liquor, he wrinkled his brow and pinched his nose in disgust.

A knock sounded at the door. Glancing toward Song Sheng, he rose to answer. Outside stood Song’s mother, holding a basin of hot water. Her face was cold as she thrust it into his hands, ordering him to wash her son.

Lu Wei had never attended to anyone in his life. His father had spoiled him since childhood — he had never even washed his own clothes, let alone waited on another. All the chores in their household had always fallen upon his stepbrother.

Still, thinking of the wealth and comfort awaiting him, Lu Wei forced a smile, accepted the basin, and murmured an obedient “yes.” Yet the moment he turned away, his expression darkened once more.

Biting his lip, he thought bitterly, Just bear with it for now. Once Song Sheng passes the examination, everything will change. When that day comes, I’ll be the scholar’s husband — admired, envied, and free to have whatever I desire.