The Fearless Husband - Chapter 13

Chapter 13 — A Stranger at the Gate…

Fang Shu thought Wu Sheng’s suggestion made absolutely no sense—yet once he’d heard it, his heart felt like a field of grass in spring, swaying restlessly with every passing breeze.

Yu Qinglong was a ge’er—a beautiful one at that. But more than anything, he was talented—able to make those little wooden creations that Fang Shu adored so much.

Still, it was out of the question to suddenly propose marriage. What if Yu Qinglong didn’t feel the same way? Worse yet, what if such words made him disgusted?

Their connection wasn’t like that between a man and a woman, or even a man and a ge’er. It was… something else. Something he couldn’t name.

“There’s got to be another way,” Fang Shu muttered.

“There is,” Wu Sheng said easily. “Keep buying from him. But remember—he’s a ge’er. Sooner or later, he’ll be married off. And once he has a husband, do you really think that man will still let him sell you things?”

“…”

The thought of Yu Qinglong being married off—especially to someone like that Zhao Lao Si—made Fang Shu’s face darken like soot.

Yu Qinglong deserved far better. Zhao Lao Si wasn’t even human—more like a beast in a man’s skin.

But… if he were to take Yu Qinglong as his husband—would his mother ever agree to it?

When Fang Shu returned home, he lingered around his mother’s side several times, pacing back and forth.

Madam Fang was busy making flatcakes, and his constant movement made her dizzy. “What are you pacing around for? If your back’s all healed, go lie down before I make it hurt again!” she snapped.

Fang Shu opened his mouth, wanting to ask if he could go to the Yu family to propose marriage—but after a moment’s thought, he closed it again. It was too rash. Too sudden.

So he went back to his room.

A while later, he came out again. “Mother, what kind of cakes are you making?”

“Sugar cakes,” she said. “Aren’t they your favorite?”

Fang Shu nodded. “Thank you, Mother.”

He remembered how Yu Qinglong had liked those sugar cakes too—he’d eaten them almost right away when Fang Shu had given him some.

If Yu Qinglong were a man, they’d have been kindred spirits.

Meanwhile, Yu Qinglong had no idea that two small wooden toys had inspired Fang Shu to seriously contemplate a marriage proposal. He was still thrilled over earning a hundred wen.

He had already decided to be honest with his family. He’d hand most of it over, keeping just twenty wen for himself as pocket money.

That afternoon, as he walked home, he suddenly heard a sharp voice behind him.

“Yu Qinglong! Stop right there!”

The tone was fierce—there was no more pretense of civility.

Yu Qinglong turned, eyeing Hu Bo from head to toe. The nerve of this man—hadn’t he seen him beat Yu Qingfa senseless the other day?

Hu Bo sneered, “What’re you looking at? You sure know how to play innocent. Pretending to be all quiet and shy, but you’re filthier than anyone! I saw you! You gave something to that scholar from the next village—Fang Xiucai! Don’t you dare deny it!”

Yu Qinglong laughed. “You saw it? What exactly did you see? Was it just you, or were there others too? Because if it was just you, then you’re the shameless one, aren’t you? I didn’t ‘give’ him anything. He came to Doctor Mo’s for treatment—my teacher and Mo Dajie(big sis mo) were both there. You’re the one sneaking around, spying on men with their things in your hands. How pathetic can you get?”

“You—! Who are you calling brainless?!”

“Whoever’s brainless, that’s who I’m calling! Listen, Hu Bo, don’t think that just because you’re short, weak, and spiteful that I won’t hit you. Stop scheming or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

With that, Yu Qinglong turned crisply on his heel and started walking home.

Hu Bo lunged to grab him, but Yu Qinglong shook him off so hard that Hu Bo nearly stumbled to the ground.

Hu Bo stamped his foot, fuming. What on earth had happened to Yu Qinglong? When had he become so fierce? He used to be meek as a mouse—whatever Hu Bo said, he’d obey without a word! This was madness!

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. Finally, he turned and ran toward the Yu family’s old estate—he was going to tell Yu Qingfa everything!

Back home, Yu Qinglong calmly explained the situation to his family. He emphasized that Fang Shu had only come to Doctor Mo’s for treatment, and had seen the wooden toys Liang Mo owned. Learning that Yu Qinglong had made them, he’d offered to buy them—that was all. Doctor Mo and Mo Xiaoning were both present.

He’d also confessed everything to Doctor Mo himself—about asking Liang Mo to help pass messages. Fortunately, both Doctor Mo and Mo Xiaoning had simply told him to be more careful in the future.

“Are you sure it’s okay to keep this money?” asked Zhou Yuehua nervously, cupping the coins in both hands. “This came from a scholar’s purse!”

“It’s fine,” Yu Qinglong said with a grin. “He’s just a man who studies well, not some deity. He’s got one head, two arms, same as us. Keep it, Dad. I only saved twenty wen for myself, in case I need to buy materials later.”

“Well,” Zhou Yuehua said after a pause, still smiling, “it is your own earning, after all.”

“Then keep it, Dad,” Yu Qinglong said. “If I make more, I’ll bring it home.”

“Are you still going to carve those words?” asked Yu Qingye.

“Of course, Second Brother. Young Master Fang taught me something useful—I think it’s worth trying. But listen, none of us can tell anyone about this. If word gets out, we’ll lose this chance forever.”

Yu Dayou frowned slightly. “When did you start getting all these ideas?”

“Father,” Yu Qinglong said earnestly, “I’ve always had ideas—I just used to be too scared to speak them aloud. I’m not scared anymore. After all, I’ve already survived being rejected from an engagement—what else could be worse?”

For a ge’er or a young maiden, being rejected from an arranged marriage was a devastating blow. It meant their reputation was tarnished, and any future proposals would drop several rungs in status. Even their family’s prospects could suffer.

The Wang family had truly been cruel and malicious.

Yu Dayou still found something strange about his youngest son’s change. The others felt it too. He was still the same child—remembered all their shared memories, never did harm—but somehow, he’d become more confident, more alive.

He’d heard of people being “possessed by spirits,” their temperaments changing drastically—but such cases always brought misfortune, and this child had only brought good.

Yu Qingjia chuckled. “This change is a good one. Who knows, maybe our little brother will be the family’s lucky star yet.”

Zhou Jian’er added, “Little brother, if you’re busy making money, don’t worry about the chores. I can handle them.”

“That won’t do,” Yu Qinglong said quickly. “I’ll still help when I can. Sister-in-law, you have to take care of your health.”

He stood up. “Second Brother, let’s check the woodshed. I’ve got some new ideas, but I’ll need your help.”

Yu Qingye didn’t hesitate. Anything that could make honest money, he was ready to do. Even if he couldn’t marry Bai Wanqiu in the end, at least their family would live better. He got up and followed his brother.

Yu Qinglong wanted to make a larger waterwheel this time—something grand enough to catch the eye of wealthy merchants. A fortune-bringing waterwheel, just as Fang Shu had said. Ideally, it would have not just woodwork but a stone base. Maybe even a miniature rock garden, with a few green plants for decoration.

It would be a big project, no doubt.

But first, he needed to draw it—and there wasn’t a single sheet of paper in the house.

That made him think of his grandparents again.

When his parents had been too busy, it was his grandparents who’d raised him—who’d paid for all his hobbies and classes, hoping he’d never feel lonely. Ink painting, violin, taekwondo, basketball—he’d even learned a bit of street dance for a while.

As he grew older, only two stuck with him: painting and basketball. Painting kept him calm; basketball kept him strong. Both were his grandparents’ choices, but he’d come to love them too.

They weren’t professional skills, but they’d taught him focus and perseverance.

He wondered how his grandparents were doing now.

“What’s wrong, Little Brother?” asked Yu Qingye.

“Oh, nothing,” Yu Qinglong said. “I just have ideas in my head, but I can’t explain them well—I need to draw them out. But we’ve got no paper or ink. If I draw on the ground, you won’t be able to take it to town. Any ideas?”

Yu Qingye thought for a moment. “Wait here.”

He left the house, and returned about half an hour later holding a handful of coarse fur and several willow branches.

“What’s that?” asked Yu Qinglong. “Where’d you get it?”

“Dog fur,” Yu Qingye said. “I cut it from Erban’s dog.”

Zhang Erban was a friend of his from the same village.

“Now, soak these branches in clean water.”

Yu Qinglong did as told, while Yu Qingye smoothed out the fur, sorting out the longest and strongest strands. He washed them, placed them in a small cloth pouch, and set them in a cool, airy spot.

Then he took the soaked willow branches, twisted them to remove the inner cores, and cut the bark into lengths the size of a brush handle. Splitting one side open, he left them to dry halfway in the shade.

Once they were nearly dry, he bundled the fur neatly, tied it with thin thread, then wrapped the willow bark around the base, leaving just a short tuft exposed at the end. He bound it tight again—and there it was.

A homemade writing brush, made with nothing but scraps and patience.

“Try it,” Yu Qingye said.

Yu Qinglong’s face lit up. “It works—it really works! Second Brother, you’re a genius!”

He would never have thought of that himself. It wasn’t fancy, but for sketches and notes, it would do perfectly.

“Paper’s still a problem, though,” Yu Qingye said.

“I’ve got an idea for that too,” Yu Qinglong said. “There’s a birch grove on the back hill, right? The bark there is thick and pale. We could peel some and paste it onto wooden boards—might work as paper.”

“Birch bark?”

“Yeah. Real paper’s too expensive—a stack of two hundred sheets costs at least eighty to a hundred wen, and we can’t afford that yet. Birch bark’s absorbent and light-colored. If we get large enough pieces, I could write or draw on them just fine.”

“Then let’s go,” Yu Qingye said at once. “If we hurry, we’ll be back before dark.”

It was nearly the fourth lunar month; the days were growing long.

The two brothers took a cloth sack and a small knife and headed out.

But the moment they opened their gate, they stopped short.

Two strangers stood outside—a man and a woman. The man was broad-shouldered, the woman slender. Both wore cotton clothing, but hers was noticeably finer—and purple, a color rare in this village. Her face was painted, too.

They weren’t locals. Yu Qinglong didn’t recognize them, and even the memories of the body’s original owner held no clue.

As he sized them up, they were doing the same to him. Just as he was about to speak, the woman smiled first.

“You’re the Yu family’s third ge’er, aren’t you?”

Yu Qinglong didn’t confirm or deny it. “And you are?”

“You don’t know me yet,” she said, her smile sharp as a knife. “But you will soon enough.”

With that, she turned and walked toward the west end of the village.

Yu Qinglong frowned, baffled. Who on earth was she?

Before he could decide whether to follow, Yu Qingye spoke beside him, his voice tight. “What’s she doing here?”

“You know her?” Yu Qinglong asked.

“Sort of,” Yu Qingye said. “Her surname’s Li. She’s a matchmaker. Works mostly in town, though. She doesn’t usually come out this far.”

He’d spent plenty of time in town lately, so he recognized a few familiar faces, even if he didn’t know them personally. The man beside her also looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t recall from where.

But what business would a town matchmaker have here?

Yu Qinglong didn’t know either—but something in his chest tightened uneasily.

Author’s Note:
Fang Shu: So anxious right now 😭