After the Sweet Little Husband Got Remarried - Chapter 7

Chapter 7

When Shen Ying left home that morning, he had carried only a few pieces of game and an empty cloth bundle. But when he returned, the bundle slung across his shoulder was full and heavy, and in his hands were several oil-paper packages of pastries.

Before he even stepped into the courtyard, he explained, “A steward from a wealthy household came to buy the deer today. He saw that its leg was injured and haggled a bit over the price, then asked me to deliver it to their residence. That’s why I came back later than expected.”

As he spoke, he untied the bundle and handed Lu Lu the pastries. “I bought these for you. Da Song said this shop’s cloud slice cakes are the best in the city, especially suited to ge’ers’ tastes. Try them.”

Lu Lu quickly wiped his hands before accepting them. “Why did you buy so much?”

Shen Ying replied, “The Chen and Liang families sent quite a bit in wedding gifts. I thought we should return the favor—bring them each a package of pastries later this evening.”

Aside from the pastries, Shen Ying had also visited a cosmetics shop in the city to buy a jar of lamb-fat balm and a box of rouge. Then, at a fabric store, he had the shopkeeper’s wife help him pick out several fine bolts of cloth.

He hadn’t brought the cloth home. Instead, he’d asked Jiang Song to leave it at the Jiang household, intending to have the new clothes made first so he could surprise his husband when they were finished.

Because of its injured leg, the deer had sold for only three taels of silver after bargaining. The pheasants and hares sold for fifty and seventy wen respectively—the hares fetching more because of their fur—and the rooster for sixty wen.

Altogether, the day’s earnings came to just over three taels. Two taels were spent on the cloth and cosmetics, and one hundred sixty wen went toward the pastries. In the city, pastries cost more than pork—considered a true delicacy. Adding the hoe he’d bought from the blacksmith, he had nine hundred wen left over.

Stringing the remaining coins onto a hemp cord, Shen Ying placed them in Lu Lu’s hands. “Keep this with the silver in the wooden chest. If you want to buy anything next time, just take it from there.”

Then he handed over the cosmetics. “And these—this one’s rouge. Smell it and see if you like the scent.”

He pushed everything into Lu Lu’s arms at once, leaving him staring down in quiet astonishment. “You… bought all this for me?”

Shen Ying hummed in assent, smiling faintly at his dazed, delighted expression. “The other jar’s the lamb-fat balm. The shopkeeper said if you apply it for a few days, it’ll fade the scar on your wrist. Try it after washing tonight.”

At those words, Lu Lu instinctively drew back his wrist into his sleeve. He had always been careful to hide it, afraid of disturbing others, yet Shen Ying had noticed—and even remembered.

He had never used rouge before. The only time had been on his wedding day, when one of the women helping him prepare had dabbed red rouge on his birthmark for luck. He’d heard that city rouge was made from flower petals, carrying the fragrance of fresh blooms.

Gently, Lu Lu twisted the lid open and lifted it to his nose. After a moment, he raised his eyes, smiling brightly. “It smells so nice.”

Seeing his husband’s face alight with joy, Shen Ying’s lips curved. “I’m glad you like it.”

Lu Lu met his clear gaze, suddenly flustered. He lowered his eyes and murmured softly, “I really like it.”

After putting the rouge away, he did as Shen Ying instructed—storing the coins in the wooden chest and the cosmetics in the box atop the wardrobe.

To save lamp oil, most country households ate dinner before dark. Since Shen Ying still needed to deliver the pastries later, Lu Lu went into the kitchen to prepare the evening meal.

The hoe Shen Ying had bought came without a handle, only the metal blade. So, he took a hatchet to the back of the house to select a piece of wood to carve.

Meanwhile, Lu Lu scooped a bowl of rice from the grain jar and began washing it.

He poured the clean rice into a pot of cold water and set it on a strong fire. Once the water boiled and the grains turned half-cooked, he used a gourd ladle to scoop them out.

This stage was called half-cooked rice, when the centers were still white. He drained off the starchy water, stirred the grains with chopsticks to loosen them, and then transferred them into the wooden steamer to finish cooking slowly.

While the rice steamed, he chopped the pre-blanched toon shoots finely, cracked a few eggs into the bowl, mixed them well, and set it aside.

When blanching toon shoots, the water had to be boiling hot before they were added. After a short scalding, they were immediately cooled in fresh water to preserve their crispness and color.

In addition to the toon and egg stir-fry, Lu Lu made a simple soup with bitter greens, sliced some cured pork to fry with tender water fern, and quickly stir-fried a plate of wild mustard.

By the time the rice was done and the dishes plated, Shen Ying had finished carving the hoe handle.

After washing his hands, he sat at the table and looked over the spread of wild vegetables. “You picked quite a lot today.”

His gaze fell on the plate of toon and eggs. “You even found toon shoots?”

Lu Lu nodded. “Huai picked them. He said you liked this dish.”

Huai said I like it, Shen Ying thought, amused. His husband had remembered that and cooked it for him. Smiling, he answered, “Yes, I do like it.”

Lu Lu didn’t understand why he was looking at him that way, and when realization dawned, a faint blush rose over his cheeks.

Shen Ying picked up a bite of toon and egg, then another of pork and fern, eating heartily until his cheeks puffed slightly. “Delicious,” he declared, before using his chopsticks to place some eggs and meat into Lu Lu’s bowl. “You eat too. After dinner, we’ll deliver the pastries together.”

Lu Lu blinked. “I’m going too?”

Shen Ying nodded. “You should meet more people.”

“Oh.” Lu Lu nodded, picking up his bowl and quietly eating another mouthful.

The village head’s home was in the south of the village, near the new Shen residence. Rather than pass by their old family house, they took the path along the pond.

The village head, surnamed Chen, had studied for the county exams in his youth. Known for his fairness and generosity, he was well-respected in Shuitang Village. Being the eldest of his family, everyone called him Uncle Chen.

The Chen family was large and prosperous. Uncle Chen had one daughter and two sons—the daughter had married into another village, while both sons were married and living with their families in the same courtyard.

When Shen Ying and Lu Lu arrived, the men and women of the household were still working in the fields. A little girl with short braids was playing by a haystack, molding figures from mud. Seeing visitors approach, she ran inside, her small voice calling out, “Granny, Granny! Someone’s here!”

The one who came out was Aunt Zhou, Uncle Chen’s wife. She wore an apron tied around her waist and was wiping her hands as she came, clearly having been cooking.

Recognizing them, her face lit up. “Well, if it isn’t Da Ying! Come in, come in. Your uncle and the boys are still out planting rice—they haven’t come back yet.”

Her eyes turned toward Lu Lu, who stood beside him, slender and quiet. “And this must be Lu Ge’er? Oh my, such a handsome one. Da Ying, you’re truly blessed.”

Caught off guard by the compliment, Lu Lu’s face flushed as he murmured, “Good evening, Aunt.”

Aunt Zhou beamed. “You came just in time. The meat stew on the stove is nearly done. Once your uncle’s back, stay for dinner.”

“We’ve already eaten,” Shen Ying replied, handing her one of the pastry packages. “I went to the city this morning and brought some pastries. Thought you might like to try them. We owe you and Uncle for helping so much with the wedding.”

Not only the wedding, but also the division of the family estate—had it not been for Uncle Chen mediating, Shen Wenlu and his wife Feng Xianglian would never have given him a single coin.

“Oh, nonsense,” Aunt Zhou said, waving her hands. “We’re all neighbors—helping each other is only right. You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble of bringing anything.”

But Shen Ying only smiled and turned to the little girl hiding behind her grandmother’s skirt. “Qiao, come here,” he said, crouching down and beckoning her over. “Take this—it’s sweet.”

The child hesitated, clutching her grandmother’s skirt, before slowly reaching out her plump little hand to take it.

Aunt Zhou sighed and relented, realizing it would be rude to refuse. “Alright then. Qiao, thank your uncle and aunt.”

The little girl held the pastry tightly in one hand and murmured in her tiny voice, “Thank you, Uncle. Thank you, Aunt.”

As dusk deepened, they still had to visit the Liang family, so after a few more pleasantries, they took their leave.

Before they left, Aunt Zhou called out for them to wait and went to the garden, cutting a bundle of chives.

“You just moved to the foothill house, haven’t had time to plant yet, I’m sure. These are young and tender—make some dumplings with them.” She also dug up a few with roots, wrapping them in a taro leaf. “Plant these in the field—they’ll take after the next rain.”

Lu Lu accepted them one by one with thanks.

Now they could make not only mustard-pork dumplings but also chive-and-egg ones.

Past a few ridges of fields, wisps of cooking smoke rose from rooftops in the distance, drifting lazily over the glimmering paddy water under the evening breeze.

The Liang family’s tiled house stood by one such field, shaded by banana trees heavy with green fruit hidden beneath broad leaves.

The Liang brothers had lost their parents early, inheriting only the family trade of tofu-making.

The elder brother, Liang Ping, had married two years ago to a ge’er, though they were yet without children. The younger, Liang An, remained unmarried, working daily alongside his brother and sister-in-law to grind and sell tofu.

They said there were three hardest trades under heaven: blacksmithing, boat-poling, and tofu-grinding.

When Shen Ying and Lu Lu arrived, the brothers were cleaning the stone mill, while Liang Ping’s spouse, Yu, sat under the eaves sorting soybeans for the next morning’s work.

Shen Ying explained their purpose and chatted with the brothers near the mill, while Lu Lu brought the pastries over to Yu.

Both men were quiet by nature, unlike the brothers, so they exchanged only polite words.

The Liang brothers were honest folk. After a glance between them, Liang Ping nodded at his spouse, who disappeared inside and returned with two fresh, snow-white blocks of tofu, insisting they take them home.

Shen Ying tried to pay, but the brothers refused firmly. “If you pay, we won’t accept the pastries,” they said.

So, he could only accept the tofu with thanks.

By then, night had fallen. They didn’t linger, and the Liang brothers saw them to the door.

As Liang An closed it behind them, he glanced at Lu Lu, his lips parting as though to speak—but in the end, he said nothing, only fastening the latch silently.

Lu Lu blinked, a little puzzled. He had never met Liang An before. Before he could ask, Shen Ying said, “He probably wanted to ask about you and Huai—you’ve been spending time together lately.”

Lu Lu blinked again. “He knows Huai?”

He then realized that, of course, they lived in the same village. It wasn’t strange for a man and a ge’er to know each other.

“Mm,” Shen Ying said. “When Huai was born, the Liang family’s wife wanted to arrange a betrothal between the two families. But before it could be settled, she passed away.”

Only then did Lu Lu learn that there had once been such ties between the Jiang and Liang families.

When they returned to the thatched house, night had fallen completely. The chickens and ducks were asleep in their coop, and the surroundings were wrapped in deep stillness.

Shen Ying lit the oil lamp, set the chives and tofu in the kitchen, and heated some water for washing, telling Lu Lu to bathe first.

They had no bathtub, so Shen Ying usually washed in the courtyard with cold water from a bucket. But Lu Lu, being a ge’er, was different—he always bathed behind the shed for privacy.

Fortunately, the night was dark and no one could see. After washing and pulling on his inner robe, Lu Lu realized he had forgotten to bring his underpants.

He didn’t dare step out like that, so he called softly for Shen Ying.

There was no moon or stars that night, only the faint glow of a single oil lamp inside the house.

Shen Ying, holding the lamp, went to the shed and laid the underpants atop a stack of firewood. As he turned to leave, Lu Lu, crouched behind the shed, slowly rose to take them.

And in that moment—in the shadows—his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of pale, smooth skin, white as snow beneath the faint starlight. It flashed before his eyes and was gone, leaving a searing imprint that lingered long after.