The Fearless Husband - Chapter 14

Chapter 14 — Scholar Fang’s Soul Is About to Leave His Body…

When the two brothers returned from the mountain with the birch bark, that strange, uneasy feeling still lingered.

Not long after reaching home, Yu Qinglong asked Zhou Yuehua, “Dad, did anyone come by while Second Brother and I were out?”

Zhou Yuehua looked up from his work. “No one. Why do you ask?”

Yu Qinglong said, “We ran into two people on the way back. One of them asked if I was the Yu family’s third ge’er. I said yes, and they just left. Second Brother said the woman was a matchmaker. They went west—maybe toward the old house.”

He frowned.

Before, Yu Dagui had already tried to marry him off to Zhao Lao Si. Even though he’d made a scene, what if those people still hadn’t given up?

Zhou Yuehua’s brows knitted with worry but he tried to sound calm. “Maybe they’re here for Caige’er. Didn’t your second uncle and his family go to town recently? Qingxi’s got friends there. It might be a proposal for him.”

“I hope so.” Yu Qinglong’s voice was dry. “As long as it’s not for me.”

He and Yu Qingye immediately got to work preparing the birch bark they had gathered.

Under the small oil lamp, the brothers carefully peeled away the thin, slippery inner film from each sheet of bark—it had to be removed, or the ink would slide right off.

Yu Qinglong showed Yu Qingye how to do it. Before long, their elder brother and sister-in-law joined in too, helping them smooth and clean the bark.

The four of them huddled around the flickering bean-oil flame, the small room glowing with warmth and quiet focus.

Once the bark was ready, Yu Qinglong moved to the next step—gluing the birch bark to flat wooden boards.

They had two types of bark: one thick and large, from older trees—each piece the size of two adult palms—perfect for writing; and another thinner kind, from younger trees. The thin pieces were smaller and easier to peel but couldn’t be used alone.

Yu Qinglong planned to glue several together into one large sheet, then sketch his designs on top. He needed his brother to understand what the structure should look like, its size, and the number of parts required.

For glue, there was no resin, but they did have glutinous rice. Yu Qinglong ground a small handful into powder, mixed it with hot water, and heated it into a paste.

Grain was precious, but he used only a little—enough to make one sturdy board about fifty by forty centimeters.

By the time they finished, it was late at night.

Yu Qinglong went to wash up.

Everyone else had already cleaned up; only he and Yu Qingye remained.

He stripped down to the waist and began washing with cold water from a basin, not noticing that his brother had paused, eyes darting away awkwardly.

“Little Brother,” Yu Qingye said, clearing his throat as he tidied the workbench, “you’re grown now. Don’t take your clothes off so casually anymore. Even if I’m your brother—it’s improper.”

Yu Qinglong froze, speechless.

“Got it, Second Brother,” he said quickly, rubbing down faster. “Forgot you were here.”

Yu Qingye looked doubtful—he had spoken before his brother undressed—but since Qinglong brushed it off, he didn’t pursue it further.

Yu Qinglong dried off and went to his room. Tomorrow, he needed to wake earlier than usual to start drawing the components of the waterwheel.

“Second Brother,” he said before turning in, “wake up early too. I’ll explain what parts we need in the morning.”

“Alright,” Yu Qingye agreed.

But when dawn came, he discovered that his brother had beaten him to it.

Yu Qinglong had risen before the first light, knowing he wouldn’t have much time later—he still had to fetch water and study with Doctor Mo. He wanted privacy while he drew; interruptions might cause questions.

By sunrise, the design was complete. The large waterwheel, every component—paddles, spokes, water scoops—all sketched and labeled with dots representing their measurements.

“Second Brother, see if you can remember this order,” Yu Qinglong said, pointing to the diagram. “Here, the first row of dots—eight inches, that’s the length of the scoop. Second row—five inches high. The rest are in the same order: length, height, width.”

“Where’d you get the ink?”

“I asked my master for a small piece earlier. Wanted to test if it would work on birch bark. I didn’t have a brush at the time, so I used a stick. Didn’t matter much. I didn’t expect you’d make me a real brush so fast.” He grinned. “Your brush isn’t as smooth as the ones I used before, but it gives the drawings a natural roughness. Looks more authentic.”

Yu Qingye squinted at the plans. “We don’t have enough wood for this. Those spokes alone need twenty-eight pieces. I’ll have to save scraps for a while.”

“See how long it takes. If it’s too much trouble, we can make a smaller version.”

“That’s fine,” Yu Qingye said. “Give me seven to ten days. I’m going to the fields with Father and Eldest Brother this morning, then heading to town afterward. Once I’ve gathered enough, I’ll bring all the wood we need. But what’s this messy part supposed to be?”

“That’s dirt—and these are stones. We’ll need the right kind for the base. If we find good ones, we might need to polish them. No rush.”

“Got it. I’ll handle that.”

“Just don’t expect too much,” Yu Qinglong cautioned. “It might not sell. But if it does, you’ll get the bigger share.”

“I understand,” Yu Qingye said. “I’ll do my best.”

Even if it failed, it was worth trying—better than earning pennies as a day laborer after a full day of carpentry. In this small village, no one earned much.

“Little Brother, if we finish it, how much do you think it could sell for?”

“Hard to say,” Yu Qinglong replied. “If we’re lucky—maybe a tael of silver.”

“What?! That much?”

Yu Qingye’s eyes widened. He’d expected maybe three or four hundred wen. A full tael was a fortune.

If he could earn even half that, he might have a chance to negotiate with the Bai family for more time. Bai Wanqiu’s family wasn’t rich—they were only rushing because his younger brother’s marriage was pending. If Yu Qingye could show he was serious, perhaps they’d wait.

At least now there was hope.

By morning, everyone went about their work—the three men to the fields, Yu Qinglong to Doctor Mo’s, his sister-in-law to feed the chickens, and Zhou Yuehua busy finishing his embroidery.

The matchmaker’s visit still weighed faintly in his mind, but Zhou Yuehua’s earlier explanation had been reasonable enough that he chose not to dwell on it.

Meanwhile, the waterwheel project was moving forward; each brother knew what to do.

Yu Qinglong’s routine settled again—study in the morning, review in the afternoon, work at night. He’d finally memorized the Three Character Classic in full and learned to recognize many characters. Doctor Mo even praised him for his quick mind.

He smiled modestly but inwardly noted another truth—the characters here were all traditional script. That would take some getting used to.

Everything seemed to be improving—until one day, on the way to Doctor Mo’s with Zhou Yuehua, they ran into Aunt Zhang, who lived opposite Old Madam Yu’s house.

“Aiya, Dayou’s family,” she called out cheerfully. “Congratulations! You’re about to have a happy event!”

Zhou Yuehua blinked. “Sister-in-law Zhang, what happy event? We haven’t heard anything.”

Aunt Zhang grinned slyly. “Oh, now don’t pretend! I watched your Qinglong grow up. I saw Old Madam Yu arranging a marriage for him just yesterday. You didn’t know? I even saw a young man visiting her!”

“That must be for Caige’er,” Zhou Yuehua said quickly.

“At first I thought so too,” said Aunt Zhang, “but then I asked someone from your third branch. They said it was for Qinglong! Half the neighborhood heard it. It was just last night! That young man—he’s not bad-looking, a bit short maybe, but decent enough. Works in town, sells buns.”

Zhou Yuehua’s face turned cold.

It didn’t matter what the man sold. How could they arrange Qinglong’s marriage without even asking his family?

“Thank you for telling us,” Zhou Yuehua said curtly. “Come, Qinglong.”

He took his son’s hand and strode toward Doctor Mo’s. He’d only planned to buy two patches of medicinal plaster—but now this!

“Dad, aren’t you going to ask what’s going on?”

“Oh, I will,” Zhou Yuehua said. “But not with you. I’ll wait for your father to come back and we’ll go together. After you beat Qingfa, Old Madam and the third branch must still be angry. If you go, they’ll just use it against you. I’ll handle it with your father.”

“But what if—”

“Don’t worry yet. We’ll see what they say first.”

“Then don’t go either,” Yu Qinglong said quickly. “If they’ll bully me, they’ll bully you too.”

When elders were involved, one word—filial piety—could crush anyone’s will.

“We’ll wait for your father’s return,” Zhou Yuehua said. “You go study.”

“Alright,” Yu Qinglong nodded. “But promise you won’t go alone.”

“Don’t worry, Dad knows.”

He patted his son’s hand and left to buy medicine.

Yu Qinglong stood by the gate until he saw his dad walk past the old house. Only then did he turn back inside.

But his mood was ruined. Those people in the old Yu household never stopped—always scheming, always shameless.

He needed to find a way to end their matchmaking nonsense once and for all.

Later, in Doctor Mo’s yard, he sat across from Liang Mo, writing. But midway through, the child noticed that his uncle’s characters had turned from straight lines into circles and loops.

“Uncle Qinglong,” Liang Mo asked anxiously, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Yu Qinglong forced a smile. “Mo’er, I might not come tomorrow. You keep studying well on your own.”

“Why not?” the boy asked, dismayed. “You promised to learn with me every day!”

“Someone’s trying to arrange a marriage for me,” Yu Qinglong said dryly. “I need to see what’s going on.”

“Then… will you still come after?”

“I will,” he said gently. “You study hard. When I come back, I’ll catch up to you.”

The boy’s eyes dimmed, but he nodded. “Alright. I’ll wait.”

Before heading home that afternoon, Yu Qinglong told Doctor Mo, “Master, I have something to take care of. I might not be able to come for a day or two. I’ll fetch more water before I leave. If there’s anything else you need me to do, tell me now.”

“What’s so urgent?” Doctor Mo asked.

“Just some family matters—I need to meet my second brother in town.”

“Very well,” Doctor Mo said, reaching into his drawer. “Take this.”

He handed over a rolled sheepskin scroll. “It’s a diagram of acupuncture points. Don’t worry about the names—you don’t know most of the characters yet. Just memorize the locations. When you’re back, I’ll teach you the rest.”

Yu Qinglong carefully put the scroll away and thanked him before leaving.

That night, the old Madam Yu household gathered around the kang, waiting for Yu Dayou’s family to come storming in. They’d intentionally leaked the matchmaking news to Aunt Zhang—she couldn’t keep her mouth shut for an hour. Once word spread, the main family would surely come to confront them, and for the sake of reputation, they’d have to come under cover of night.

But no one came.

Yu Dagui frowned. “Did they not hear?”

Zhang Baodan said, “Impossible. I saw Aunt Zhang talking to Zhou Yuehua myself. She definitely told them.”

Yu Qingfa, who had been itching all day for a fight, scowled. “Then what’s going on?”

The whole room fell into confusion. The main branch remained completely silent, as if nothing had happened.

The next morning, before dawn, Yu Qinglong left for town with Zhou Yuehua and Yu Dayou. Zhou Yuehua needed to deliver his embroidery work, and Qinglong had casually suggested they go early—thus avoiding the confrontation entirely.

Meanwhile, Fang Shu, too restless to bear it, found an excuse to visit Doctor Mo again, claiming his back hurt.

Doctor Mo saw right through him the moment he arrived. The scholar’s back had healed days ago—so what was he doing here again? And when he immediately went to talk to his grandson, the doctor understood everything.

Fang Shu crouched beside the little boy. “Mo’er, has your Uncle Qinglong made any new toys lately?”

Liang Mo drooped. “No…”

“He didn’t come today?”

“He said he had to go see about a marriage.”

Fang Shu’s head shot up. “What did you say?!”

“He said someone’s arranging a marriage for him,” the boy replied innocently. “He went to see.”

Marriage?

Fang Shu felt his soul leave his body.

He leapt to his feet, shouting toward the house, “Doctor Mo! I just remembered something urgent at home—I’ll come for treatment another day!”

Before the doctor could respond, he was already on his ox cart, racing home.

He barely reached the yard before calling out, breathless, “Mother! I’ve found someone I like! You have to go propose right now!”

Author’s Note:
Fang Shu: My husband, wait for me!! 😭
Yu Qinglong: You’ll never catch me 😎