The Drama Queen Little Husband of the Straight Man - C3

Chapter 3: Adam’s Apple — First Came the Blush, Then the Trembling Hands

“Yanyao, Zhaonian speaks bluntly, but he truly worries for you. Don’t take it to heart.”

“The bond we’ve shared since childhood—no matter who we marry in the future, that affection will never change.”

Dressed entirely in pale white, Yan Yao continued to shed tears amid words of comfort. When the others finally dispersed, he picked up a bronze mirror to examine his own swollen eyes.

Thanks to Ji Zhaonian’s provocations, he had cried enough today for them to puff up noticeably.

“Qiuyu.”

“Young Master.”

“Go and ‘accidentally’ run into Young Master Wu’s servant. Tell him I’ve been craving plum-blossom dumplings, but alas, I can’t find any winter plum blossoms anywhere.”

Qiuyu chuckled. “Young Master, you must be truly vexed by Young Master Ji today.”

Everyone knew Ji Zhaonian had fallen for Young Master Wu at first sight, but the unfortunate truth was that Wu favored Yan Yao instead.

Those winter plum blossoms—Zhaonian had treasured them dearly. Plucked from snow-laden branches, preserved in an ice cellar, and now, among the dozens he once had, only a single bloom remained vibrant. The rest had withered.

If Young Master Wu were to ask for one, Ji Zhaonian would surely hand over the finest without hesitation—though it would likely leave him in tears for days to come.

Qiuyu had barely stepped over the threshold when Yan Yao put down the mirror. “Forget it. Come back.”

The troubles of this engagement had soured his mood—he couldn’t even be bothered to spar with Ji Zhaonian anymore.

On the table lay a packet of peach-blossom pastries bound with red string. Yan Yao stared at it for a long while.

This marriage had come far too suddenly. At first, he thought it yet another scheme of his stepmother’s, but upon inquiry, even she seemed shocked—perhaps more so than him.

If so, this had to be his father’s decision.

After his mother’s death, Yan Yao had been raised under his grandaunt’s care—though only until the age of seven, when she too passed away.

Back then, his grandaunt had remarked that Yan Yao possessed “a heart as delicate as carved jade.”

Had it been his stepmother’s doing, he could have found a way to break the match. But if it was his father’s will…

Things were far more complicated.

Geng Yao returned home carrying Little Hou, only to be greeted by a filthy rag flying straight at him.

His mother stood akimbo, demanding to know why he had borrowed money.

Outside, Hui Niang dared not lift her head. Timid by nature, she flushed easily whenever she lied, and after only a few questions from her mother-in-law, she had confessed everything about Geng Yao borrowing money.

Head pounding, Geng Yao endured several smacks but kept quiet about what the money was for.

When Hui Niang had been sent out, Mother Geng pulled Little Hou over and questioned him. Upon learning the truth, she burst into amused laughter. “That fool—couldn’t even say so outright.”

“And to think he wanted to call off the engagement? Looks like he already knows how to curry favor with his future husband.” She sighed. “Our silly second son’s finally grown up.”

Standing, she turned to Hui Niang. “You’ve been saving up your private money for a long time. Tonight I’ll give you thirty wen—don’t tell that rascal. Let’s see how he plans to pay you back.”

Hui Niang hurriedly refused, but after two pushes back and forth, she relented. “Then, once Second Brother repays me, I’ll pass it back to you.”

A summer rain had fallen recently, easing the oppressive heat slightly. Ning’an County, though but a county, was prosperous enough to rival a provincial capital thanks to its prime location.

The marketplace bustled. Yong’an Street teemed with scholars and wealthy merchants, while Dongnan Street catered more to common folk dressed in coarse linen and hemp.

Yan Yao rarely visited this area, yet today he came with Qiuyu.

Two days prior, he’d already arranged for a servant to book a room in the inn opposite the butcher stall—a perfect vantage point overlooking the street below.

Alighting from the carriage, he went straight to the second floor, opened the window, and removed his face veil to observe the scene at the stall.

For half an hour, he watched. Only two women busied themselves there, and Yan Yao was about to leave when another figure emerged from inside.

The older woman called him “Second” and had him debone meat.

Yan Yao quietly sat back down and studied him in secret. First came the blush, then the trembling hands.

This so-called pig slaughterer was hardly ugly—in fact, he was strikingly handsome. Broad-shouldered, imposing—almost heroic. That alone had reddened Yan Yao’s cheeks.

But then there was his physique. Judging by appearance: roughly nine chi tall¹, thick black brows, deep eyes, a tiger’s frame, ape-like arms, a wolf’s waist… intimidating beyond measure.

Yan Yao lifted his teacup to steady himself, but when the scalding liquid burned his fingertips red, he realized just how nervous he was.

Summer heat left clothing thin; with every wide, sweeping motion of the butcher, his chest muscles flexed and rippled—so much so that Yan Yao’s heart trembled anew.

He himself was delicate and slender, while this man was a mountain. If they truly married, wouldn’t he be crushed with a single palm strike?

Geng Yao gripped a butcher’s knife before a long table laden with pork slabs.

An elderly white-haired woman examined them for ages before finally choosing a single large bone—out of five, this one alone had a scrap of meat clinging to it.

She thought to herself that though the butcher looked fierce, his temper must be exceedingly good; despite her long picking, he hadn’t scolded or rushed her.

Geng Yao jerked his chin at Little Hou, signaling him to take the payment.

The old woman teased him good-naturedly, to which Geng Yao replied with a smile: “Shall I chop it up for you?”

Even as he spoke, his gaze flickered toward the upstairs window. The young master there had sat for quite some time now, sneaking glances—not at the stall, but at him.

Though he had lost his spiritual energy, Geng Yao’s instincts remained sharp; otherwise, he’d have died many times over by now.

Sensing no malice, he let it be—perhaps the rich boy was simply bored, having never seen a butcher at work.

The old woman beamed. “Young man, you’ll chop it for me too?”

“Sure,” Geng Yao replied. “Show me how many pieces.”

She measured out five with her hands along the forearm-length bone, indicating where to cut.

Joy warmed her heart—not only would it save effort, but it would also spare the household knife from dulling; a kitchen knife wasn’t cheap, after all.

Five pieces could last five days. Though bare of meat, bones still held flavor and oil.

Geng Yao had been a blade cultivator; with the butcher’s knife in hand, familiarity came as second nature.

His strikes were swift as falling meteors—precise and clean, not a splinter of bone left behind.

Blade up, blade down; blade down, blade up—fluid and decisive. Cold glints off the knife flashed toward the second floor opposite…

Yan Yao clutched his handkerchief to his chest, heart quivering in fright.

This butcher—wolfish, tiger-like—if he turned violent and the servants and guards happened to be away, wouldn’t Yan Yao be dead on the spot?

Others said Yan Yao had a gentle temperament, but only he himself knew how stubborn and unruly he could be.

He could feign sweetness, but if his act slipped and angered the butcher…

Besides, marriage meant sharing a bed. Sleeping beside such a beast would be like lying in a den of wild animals; Yan Yao feared he’d never know peace again.

The engagement had to be broken—no matter what.

People came and went; thanks to Geng Yao’s willingness to chop bones, today’s stock sold faster than usual—even the meat went quicker than normal.

“Young man, how much for this cut?”

Covering the meat in question with gauze, Geng Yao replied, “Not for sale.”

Yan Yao’s porcelain-pale hand gripped his spoon as he pondered ways to annul the marriage, time slipping by unnoticed.

He set the spoon down and descended the stairs.

“Second Uncle, why not sell it?” Little Hou asked once the customer left.

The boy was so short he couldn’t even see his uncle’s face.

Crouching down, Geng Yao whispered, “Tonight, tell Grandma this piece fell on the floor. She can cook it for us.”

To pay off their debts, the family had been scrimping—nearly ten days without meat.

Little Hou swallowed hard, nodded repeatedly.

Second Uncle had saved a big piece for them.

The street bustled, few bothering with face veils. After warning Little Hou not to spill the secret, Geng Yao straightened—only to see a slender figure before the stall.

White gauze veiled the face, the frame slender; black hair swept forward over the shoulders in the breeze.

Geng Yao’s brow twitched in surprise. The rich young master who’d sat upstairs all day.

“Buying meat? Sorry. Sold out,” Geng Yao said.

Yan Yao pointed at the piece under gauze. The maidservant behind him, Qiuyu, snapped, “We all heard you.”

The smile in Geng Yao’s eyes cooled. “Mm.”

So what if they heard?

The girl’s tone was sharp; he had no intention of explaining further. Naturally exuding a quiet menace—as if ready to strike at any moment—he silenced Qiuyu on the spot.

Qiuyu dared not speak again; Yan Yao fared slightly better, though not by much.

Before he could turn to leave, someone behind called out:

“Yan Yao, are you here to see your future husband?”

Future husband? Geng Yao blinked. The fiancée promised to him by the Yan family—nicknamed A-Yao…

Yan Yao?

A flicker of mischief sparked in his heart. Unless he’d misheard, the person before him in gauze was his betrothed.

Thinking back just now—his future spouse’s first impression of him must be terrible.

1: Dirt poor, can’t even afford meat.
2: Deceptive—lying to parents just to eat meat.

But wait…

A cold sweat trickled down his back. His future spouse’s frame…

Wasn’t it… far too tall? Looked about one-seventy-nine…

Normal, right? Girls that tall… exist… right?

Yan Yao stiffened briefly. As he turned, Ji Zhaonian strode in with a group.

“Yan Yao, is this your pig-slaughtering husband-to-be?”

To gain the upper hand, Ji Zhaonian had brought sycophants who all echoed him:

“Who’d have thought Uncle Yan would be so cruel, marrying Yan Yao into a family like this? I heard they even borrowed money for their house!”

“Worse than peasants—they at least have a shack and a couple acres of land.”

“So this is Yan Yao’s in-laws? I’ll tell our cook—have them buy meat here from now on.”

Mockery piled on mockery. Though from different worlds, Geng Yao couldn’t bear to see Yan Yao insulted so.

Before he could speak, Yan Yao turned slightly, voice soft:

“Geng family’s young master, do you remember? This is Young Master Sun, heir to the Sun family’s restaurant. They slaughter five to eight pigs daily. Tomorrow, make sure you deliver the meat there.”

Lifting the veil, he smiled gently at Sun. “We’ve known each other since childhood. I’m grateful you’ll support the Geng family’s business. I’ll ask Uncle Geng to give you a good price.”

Then, addressing everyone: “Your kindness toward me—I am deeply moved. If any of you wish to support the Geng family as well, speak up now so the young master can arrange tomorrow’s deliveries.”

Light danced in his eyes; even the man buying tofu next door forgot himself and dropped the block he’d been holding, shattering it on the ground.

Geng Yao’s gaze, however, fixed on Yan Yao’s slender neck—no, on the protruding Adam’s apple there.

¹ Nine chi (九尺) — Traditional Chinese length measurement; roughly equivalent to 2.7 meters in pre-modern times, but often used hyperbolically to describe tall, imposing figures.