After the Sweet Little Husband Got Remarried - Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Every time Shen Ying returned from a hunting trip in the mountains, he would, without fail, set off for the city at dawn the following morning with Jiang Song, before the first light even broke across the horizon. He would first take the game to the Jiang household, load it onto their mule cart, and from there, the two of them would depart together from the Jiang family gate.

This time, along with pheasants and hares, there was an injured deer and a rooster that had been part of the wedding gifts.

Each of them set traps in different parts of the mountain, marking them with distinct signs. They hunted separately, sharing only when the prey was large—such as deer or boar. In such cases, they would work together and split the earnings evenly.

Jiang Song had caught a roe deer and two pheasants this time, one of the hares having been given to him by Shen Ying. After every hunt, Shen Ying would always gift the Jiang family a hare or pheasant, as compensation for using their mule cart.

As the saying went, “Even brothers must settle accounts clearly.” Only then could relationships remain long and steady. Were it not for Uncle Dahan teaching him to hunt, Shen Ying would never have learned the trade, nor would he have received so much help and kindness from the Jiang family.

As they passed the village entrance, a fellow villager carrying a hoe greeted them cheerfully, “Ah, Da Song, Da Ying! Off to the city again? What good things did you catch this time?”

Shen Ying and Jiang Song sat on either side of the cart. Shen Ying replied casually, “Nothing much—just a few hares and pheasants. Nothing worth mentioning.”

The man clearly didn’t believe him, but he didn’t press further. Those with skill didn’t need to boast; others could envy all they wanted—it wouldn’t change anything.

It took about half an hour by mule cart from Shuitang Village to reach the city. By the time they arrived at the city gates, the sky was already bright.

It was an age of peace and prosperity. The current emperor ruled with virtue and compassion, and the court had exempted many taxes. Merchants and commoners could pass freely through the gates without paying tolls.

Once inside the city, the two men went straight to the marketplace.

The earlier wild game reached the stalls, the higher the price it fetched. Aside from restaurants and taverns, wealthy households sometimes bought directly—especially fond of deer and goat meat.

The two men split up, one heading east and the other west, each choosing a crowded and lively part of the market.

Unloading the deer from the cart, Shen Ying suddenly remembered his thought from the night before and turned to ask Jiang Song where the cosmetics shop was located.

While washing dishes last night, he had caught sight of the faint red marks on Lu Lu’s wrist and learned that they had been left by his stepfather’s beating.

He had heard that there was a certain shop in the city that sold lamb-fat balm, a salve that could fade scars. He planned to buy a jar for Lu Lu—and perhaps some rouge as well.

Jiang Song raised a brow. “Buying it for Brother Lu?”

Shen Ying nodded.

Jiang Song chuckled. “See? Didn’t I tell you two years ago to get married sooner? You wouldn’t listen then. Now look at you—already doting on your spouse.”

Shen Ying smiled but didn’t argue.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to marry—it was that he hadn’t wanted to make his future spouse suffer with him. He’d wanted to save enough silver first to give them a stable life.

The same went for dividing the family estate. He could tolerate his stepmother’s favoritism toward his younger brother, could even close one eye to her unfairness—but he would not let his spouse endure what he had.

He asked next for the location of the fabric shop. “I also want to buy a few bolts of cloth to have some clothes made for him. I might need to trouble Sister-in-law Qinghe for that.”

Jiang Song waved it off. “What trouble? You don’t need to stand on ceremony with me. My wife’s been idle lately anyway, chasing after little Qiu all day. Give her something to do. Buy whatever you like.”

Shen Ying smiled. “Alright.”

With that, the two parted ways, heading toward opposite ends of the market.

Meanwhile, back in Shuitang Village, Lu Lu had also left home with a basket strapped to his back.

He and Jiang Huai had arranged to go up the mountain together to pick wild greens. As the eastern sky lightened faintly, Jiang Huai arrived, carrying a small woven basket over his arm.

The back basket Lu Lu carried was the one he had woven late into the previous night. The shoulder straps were made from rope Shen Ying had twisted himself—thick and sturdy enough not to cut into the skin.

There were no hoes or sickles in the house, so Lu Lu brought a small hatchet instead, picking up a sturdy branch from the roadside to knock away the dew on the grass as he walked, so it wouldn’t soak his trouser legs.

The villagers who went foraging usually only went to the front mountain. Beyond that, deeper in the forest, there were bears that preyed on humans—places only seasoned hunters dared to go.

As they climbed, a few young ge’ers walked ahead, one of them being the one Lu Lu had seen washing clothes by the pond the previous day.

Jiang Huai had little interest in gossip or idle chatter, so he led Lu Lu along a smaller, quieter path.

Both his father and brother were hunters, and he’d grown up roaming the mountains with them. He knew the front ranges like the back of his hand. Thus, when he had asked his mother if he could take Lu Lu foraging, she had readily agreed.

They passed through a grove of slender bamboo where a clear brook murmured through the stones. Across the stream stretched a lush forest, filled with the chirping of unseen birds.

Spring rains had recently fallen, and young bamboo shoots poked up from the damp soil, their pointed tips gleaming with moisture.

“Someone’s already dug up most of these,” Jiang Huai said, pushing aside a pile of fallen leaves. “I know another spot. Next time we’ll bring a hoe and dig some up together.”

Lu Lu nodded. “Alright.”

Crossing the brook, he spotted a patch of tender water fern growing along the edge and plucked a handful of shoots into his basket.

There were two types of fern—mountain fern and water fern. The mountain kind was slightly bitter, while the water fern was tender and sweet, excellent for stir-frying or tossing in a salad after blanching.

At the forest’s edge, Lu Lu gathered some bitter greens and wild mustard. The bitter greens could be boiled into soup; wild mustard could be chopped and fried with eggs, or mixed with minced meat to make buns.

Jiang Huai walked ahead, and when he turned to see Lu Lu still crouched behind him, he waved and called, “Sister-in-law! Hurry, come here!”

Lu Lu straightened, brushed the soil from the roots of the mustard, and tossed them into his basket before walking over.

Jiang Huai was standing at the foot of a small hill covered in shrubs and young trees. Following his gaze, Lu Lu saw a tall Chinese toon tree—its tender red-tinged shoots swaying in the morning light.

In spring, the new sprouts of toon trees were especially fragrant. Blanched and stir-fried with eggs, they were even tastier than wild mustard.

Jiang Huai set his basket down and rolled up his sleeves. “Wait here, Sister-in-law. I’ll climb up and pick them.”

“The branches look thin—be careful,” Lu Lu cautioned.

“Don’t worry,” Jiang Huai said, grinning.

He was used to climbing trees for fruit and scrambled up with ease. In no time, he had filled his basket with fresh toon shoots, though a few tumbled into the grass below.

Sliding down, he brushed leaves from his hair and said, “Brother Shen loves toon stir-fried with eggs. He’ll be delighted when he gets home.”

Lu Lu tucked that quietly into memory. Taking the basket from him, he asked, “Do you know what else he likes?”

Jiang Huai thought for a moment. “He likes plenty of things.” Then, with a playful wink, he added, “But if you make it, I’m sure he’ll like anything.”

Lu Lu flushed instantly, the heat rising from his neck to his ears.

After gathering enough toon shoots, they continued onward, circling the small hill. Behind a rocky cliff, they found two more toon trees, though their tender shoots had already been plucked—someone had beaten them there.

Lu Lu had just collected another handful of mustard greens when Jiang Huai suddenly pointed toward the edge of the cliff. “Look, Sister-in-law—there’s a wild cherry tree!”

Before Lu Lu could even respond, a small figure leapt down from the tree and darted across their path, vanishing into a patch of tall grass beneath the tree.

They exchanged startled glances. Jiang Huai called out, “Who’s there?”

The figure froze, motionless behind the tree. Jiang Huai moved closer, parting the grass carefully, while Lu Lu handed him his branch for safety.

When they drew near enough to see, Jiang Huai stopped short, his eyes widening. “Sui?” he blurted in disbelief.

Lu Lu hurried forward and saw Shen Sui crouched in the weeds, clutching a basket, with several unripe wild cherries scattered at her feet.

So that was what she’d been doing—climbing trees to pick fruit.

The cherries were still green and sour, barely edible.

Watching her, Lu Lu was struck by an ache of familiarity. He remembered how his own stepfather had denied him food, leaving him so hungry that he’d nearly fainted—and how he’d once run to the riverbank to eat whatever fruit he could find, just like those cherries: bitter, sharp, and barely chewable.

Moved by the thought, he reached into his sleeve and pulled out the rice cake Jiang Huai had given him yesterday—the one he hadn’t yet eaten, still wrapped neatly in a handkerchief.

He unfolded the cloth, crouched down, and held it out to her. “Here,” he said softly. “Eat this instead.”

Shen Sui lifted her eyes to him, hesitant, then slowly reached out to take the rice cake, murmuring a faint, “Thank you.”

She bit into it eagerly, chewing so fast she nearly choked. Jiang Huai quickly handed her his water flask, and she gulped it down.

She ate as though she hadn’t tasted something that good in a long time, even licking her fingers clean afterward.

Lu Lu’s brows creased slightly as he watched.

When they prepared to leave, Shen Sui tried to offer them the toon shoots she had gathered, but they refused, telling her to keep them for herself and continue foraging elsewhere.

Only after they had gone a fair distance and reached the brook again did Jiang Huai finally speak, anger flashing in his eyes. “That Feng Xianglian is truly heartless—to treat her own daughter like that.”

Then, after a pause, he sighed. “If only Aunt Suyun were still alive.”

Lu Lu recognized the name—he had seen it on the ancestral tablet in the main hall. That was Shen Ying’s birth mother. He hadn’t known the characters, so Shen Ying had told him, though he hadn’t said much more, clearly unwilling to speak of it.

Noticing Lu Lu’s puzzled look, Jiang Huai explained, “Aunt Suyun was Brother Shen’s mother.”

Lu Lu asked curiously, “What kind of person was she?”

“I never met her,” Jiang Huai admitted after a moment’s thought. “I was just a baby then. But my mother said Aunt Suyun was the kindest person she’d ever known. Even while ill, she still embroidered a bellyband for me before I was born. My mother keeps it locked in her chest to this day.”

As they talked, Jiang Huai shared other childhood memories.

By the time he was old enough to remember things, Shen Ying’s mother had already passed. His father and stepmother treated him poorly, so Jiang Huai’s mother often took him in—feeding him, clothing him, and caring for him like her own.

“So really,” Jiang Huai concluded with a grin, “Brother Shen’s like my own elder brother. Which makes you, Sister-in-law, my Second Sister-in-law.”

Lu Lu’s face flushed crimson at the title.

He had known that Shen Ying had lost his mother young, but he hadn’t realized how harsh his childhood had been. He had assumed, as the eldest son, his life wouldn’t have been too difficult. He hadn’t imagined their stories would mirror each other so closely.

As the sky dimmed, they didn’t linger long. They gathered a few more wild greens before descending the mountain.

Though it was only the front range, wild beasts sometimes wandered close at night, and darkness came quickly beneath the trees. Even before sunset, the forest had already grown deep and shadowed.

When they returned to the little thatched cottage at the mountain’s base, Shen Ying still hadn’t returned. Lu Lu fed the chickens and ducks in the shed, then emptied his basket of wild vegetables.

He trimmed away the withered leaves and washed the greens clean, sorting them neatly into piles.

It was early spring, the best season for wild greens. After only half a day, he and Jiang Huai had gathered enough to fill an entire basket—mostly wild mustard.

Some he planned to stir-fry, some to make into cold salad, and the rest he would blanch and hang under the eaves to dry. Dried mustard greens were perfect for frying with rice or mixing into porridge later on.

If he had some pork, he could even make mustard-filled meat buns—but he didn’t know where to buy meat, and he didn’t dare touch the silver kept in Shen Ying’s wooden chest.

He had just finished hanging up the greens when he heard the creak of the wooden gate.

Shen Ying had returned from the city, the game sold and his journey complete.