After the Sweet Little Husband Got Remarried - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

At dawn the next morning, as the eastern sky began to pale with the first glimmer of light, Lu Lu awoke just as he always did.

He had slept on the inner side of the bed, and when he turned his head, the space beside him was already empty. He had no idea when Shen Ying had risen.

In the countryside, newly married husbands were not required to serve morning tea to their parents-in-law, but it was customary for the ge’er to wake early and prepare breakfast — lest others say he was a lazy spouse. So Lu Lu quickly got out of bed.

He changed out of the wedding robe from the day before and put on his old clothes brought from the Lu household. When he stepped outside, he still did not see Shen Ying, so he wandered through the courtyard, taking in his surroundings.

The house was a small thatched cottage, its walls made from woven bamboo strips plastered with yellow mud and chopped straw. It consisted of three rooms in total.

The cottage faced south with its back against the mountain. The kitchen lay to the east, the main hall in the center, and the newlyweds’ room to the west. The window of the bridal room opened to the front courtyard, beside which stood a small grass shed used for stacking firewood.

The shed was built on the western side of the courtyard. To the front and east stretched low earthen walls, patched and crumbling, with wild grass sprouting along their tops. The gate stood in the south, opposite the kitchen window, a simple wooden fence loosely fastened — it seemed Shen Ying had gone out early that morning.

In the village, whenever a household hosted a banquet, the tables and dishes were usually borrowed from neighbors and returned afterward.

The dishes from last night’s feast had been cleaned and carried away by the women who helped in the kitchen, and the leftovers were packed up and sent with them. Lu Lu guessed Shen Ying must have gone to return the borrowed tables.

Taking advantage of his absence, Lu Lu rolled up his sleeves and entered the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

The kitchen stood on the eastern side of the cottage, its door opening from the main hall. Two small windows faced south and east. Through the eastern window, one could see an open patch of land, roughly two zhang wide — it looked like an abandoned vegetable garden, now overgrown with weeds.

Inside, the furnishings were as simple as in the bridal chamber: a clay stove, an iron pot, and a wooden food cabinet holding bowls. In the corner sat several large jars, each covered with wooden lids.

Lifting the lids, Lu Lu found two jars filled with rice and flour, and another near the stove full of clear water. A bamboo pipe as thick as his wrist extended through the eastern window into the jar, plugged with a bamboo stopper.

On top of the food cabinet rested a basket of eggs — gifts from the wedding guests. Lu Lu didn’t dare use too many; he took only one, scooped a bowl of flour, and decided to make Shen Ying a bowl of egg noodles.

At the Lu household, he had always been the one cooking. Only when meat was stewed would his stepfather personally take charge — forbidding Lu Lu from entering the kitchen for fear he might sneak a taste.

His specialty was egg noodles: kneading the dough into smooth sheets, slicing it into even strips, boiling them in water, and flavoring the bowl with lard and soy sauce. When the hot broth was poured over, he’d finish it with minced garlic and scallions, then top it with a golden fried egg.

When Shen Ying returned after returning the tables, the moment he reached the gate, a savory aroma drifted toward him from within the courtyard. Looking up, he saw a thin curl of smoke rising from the chimney of his kitchen.

He paused, surprised, then quickened his steps, pushing open the gate with a hint of eagerness.

In the main hall, a wooden table stood in the center. Against the back wall rested a long altar table, atop which sat the memorial tablet of Shen Ying’s late mother.

The freshly cooked noodles were steaming. Shen Ying leaned forward, blew gently, and took a sip of the broth rich with the scent of scallions. Then, lifting his chopsticks, he picked up a mouthful of noodles and tasted them.

After the Shen family built their new house, they had moved to the eastern end of the village. But most of the time, Shen Ying still lived alone in the old house at the mountain’s foot — it made hunting easier, and he could return home directly from the woods to deal with game.

To reach the mountain before sunrise, he often skipped breakfast, eating only a piece of dry, hard flatbread on the way — nothing like the comfort of a hot bowl of noodles.

The noodles were springy and smooth, the broth savory and rich with the scent of lard. Shen Ying finished half the bowl in a few hearty bites before praising, “Delicious.”

Lu Lu unconsciously let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Though egg noodles were his best dish, he hadn’t known what Shen Ying liked. He had worried the man might not enjoy them. Hearing that simple word of praise, his heart finally settled.

“You should eat too.” Shen Ying paused mid-bite, noticing the fried egg lying untouched at the bottom of his bowl. He glanced at Lu Lu’s own bowl, which contained only plain noodles swimming in clear broth. “Why is there only one egg?”

Lu Lu pressed his lips together and murmured, “I don’t need one. You eat it. I ate too much last night — I’m not hungry yet.”

Eggs could be traded for coins at the market. Though not as valuable as chickens or ducks, they were still a precious commodity in the countryside.

At home, Lu Lu had always eaten leftovers. Only when his stepfather was in a rare good mood would he let him have one of the eggs Lu Wei refused to eat. Each time, that small kindness had been enough to make him happy for days.

Looking at his thin, frail spouse, Shen Ying frowned slightly. “You’re too small. You need to eat well — can’t go without meat.”

Without listening to his protests, he picked up the fried egg and dropped it into Lu Lu’s bowl.

Lu Lu blinked, startled, and stared at him in disbelief. He hesitated, wanting to return it, but as soon as he moved his chopsticks, Shen Ying said simply, “If you don’t eat it, I won’t either.”

Lu Lu froze again, then, after a brief pause, cut the egg neatly in half with his chopsticks. He pushed the larger piece into Shen Ying’s bowl and said softly, “Then… let’s share.”

Shen Ying’s stern expression softened. He nodded slightly. “Alright.”

The tall man bent over his bowl again, slurping noisily as he ate — each mouthful full of vigor. He didn’t stop until the noodles and broth were both gone.

Lu Lu took a bite of his egg, sneaking a glance at him. Somehow, the man before him seemed different from what he had imagined.

After the meal, Shen Ying led Lu Lu to sort through the gifts received the day before.

In the village, wedding gifts were usually practical — livestock, poultry, or eggs. Some sent pork, others a chicken or duck. Most offered pairs of eggs for good fortune.

Counting them, they found two slabs of pork — both smoked over winter — and five birds in total. The Jiang family alone had sent one chicken, one duck, and a piece of cured ribs; the village head Chen’s family and the tofu-seller Liang’s family had provided the rest. The eggs were most abundant — two full baskets, hung from the kitchen beam.

Among the poultry, there were two hens, two ducks, and one rooster. Shen Ying herded them into the shed, caught the rooster, and said, “We’ll keep the hens and ducks for eggs. I’ll slaughter this rooster for you — make some soup. Tomorrow, I’m heading up the mountain with Da Song. I set traps a few days ago and need to check them. You can manage things here.”

Da Song — Jiang Song — was the eldest son of the Jiang family and Jiang Huai’s older brother. Married five years, with a young son now two years old.

Shen Ying had learned hunting from the Jiang brothers’ uncle. The two were close in age and as good as real brothers.

Lu Lu quickly shook his head. “There’s no need. I can’t eat that much alone. We still have plenty of eggs — it’d be better to sell the rooster.”

Shen Ying had only recently separated from his family. The rice and flour in the jars had come from that division, and much silver had already been spent on the wedding feast. He had planned to hunt and sell some wild game in the county before planting season began.

Glancing at the two baskets of eggs hanging above, Shen Ying set the rooster down and nodded. “Alright, we’ll do it your way. The eggs are for you. Don’t hold back — eat at least two a day.”

Lu Lu opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, Shen Ying added matter-of-factly, “You need to build your strength — only then can you bear children.”

The words struck him like a spark — his ears burned red, his cheeks flushed, and warmth rushed to his face.

Unlike women, ge’ers could bear children, but pregnancies were rare and difficult. Those with faint pregnancy marks might go years without conceiving. Most ordinary families, if given the choice, preferred marrying a woman — few would spend money to wed a ge’er who might never bear a child.

Shen Ying had spoken teasingly, without much thought. But when he turned and saw his spouse’s face reddened to the tips of his ears, he too grew uneasy. He wasn’t used to saying such bawdy things — he had no idea why those words had slipped out.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose awkwardly, cleared his throat, and quickly changed the subject. “By the way, come with me. I’ve something to give you.”

Lu Lu followed him into the inner room, still feeling the heat in his cheeks.

Shen Ying opened the wardrobe and took out a small wooden box, its lacquer chipped with age. Handing it to him, he said, “Go on — open it.”

Lu Lu obeyed, lifting the lid carefully. Inside were two land deeds stamped with red seals, a few pieces of broken silver, half a string of copper coins, and a single silver bracelet, heavy and gleaming dully in the light.

Shen Ying explained, “These two deeds are for the fields I bought before — they were given to me when we divided the household. The silver and coins are what’s left from the wedding expenses — two taels and five hundred wen altogether.”

His gaze softened as it fell upon the bracelet. “This bracelet belonged to my mother. Before she passed, she told me to give it to my future spouse. Now that we’re married, it’s yours — as are the fields and the money.”

He had meant to give it to him last night, but seeing Lu Lu already in bed after washing up, he’d decided to wait.

Lu Lu held the box in both hands, stunned. He had never seen so much silver before, let alone been entrusted with all of it.

He instinctively tried to decline, but Shen Ying placed the bracelet back inside, shut the lid, and looked him in the eyes. His tone was firm yet gentle. “From now on, you’ll manage everything in this house. Don’t worry — I won’t let you live a hard life.”

Meeting those earnest, steady eyes, Lu Lu felt momentarily dazed. After a long pause, he nodded faintly.

Before coming to the Shen family, he had believed the rumors — that Shen Ying was cold, fierce, and ill-tempered, a man best avoided. Yet after spending only half a day together, he found that this man was nothing like the terrifying hunter people had described.

Since they were now married, he thought, he would do his best to live well with him — and make a life worth keeping.