Chapter 38

That night, Shen Weimin came by the Ye household.

These days, there wasn’t much Shen Weimin could help Xie Tingyu with, so he rarely visited anymore. Tonight he came because he’d heard some things and wanted to ask about them.

“Did you hear about what happened today, Brother Yu? How’s Shuiya now?”

Xie Tingyu didn’t say a word, so Shen Weimin relayed the story from beginning to end: “It started with Shuiya’s grandma saying she appeared in the newspaper. Some of the female educated youths didn’t believe it and made some snide remarks. Granny Ye overheard and got into an argument. Later, Shuiya came over and slapped Shen Yan across the face…”

He was just objectively recounting the events, without adding personal emotion.

After listening, Xie Tingyu raised his eyebrows slightly, a faint smile in his eyes.

Seeing this, Shen Weimin paused and asked, “Brother Yu, what are you smiling at?”

Xie Tingyu said, “It’s pretty good.”

“What’s good about it?” Shen Weimin stared wide-eyed at him.

Xie Tingyu took a slow sip of water and motioned for Shen Weimin to drink some too, then said casually, “The slap was well done.”

His tone was so gentle it could almost drip water—syrupy enough to make someone cringe. Shen Weimin nearly choked on his water. “You’re already protecting her like this? Brother Yu, are you serious…?”

“You’re not, right?”

Staring at Xie Tingyu’s faint smile and the proud, pleased look on his face, Shen Weimin’s expression grew strange.

Facing Shen Weimin’s stunned gaze, Xie Tingyu simply said, “Mhm.”

One short, crisp syllable—his voice so soft it was almost a murmur.

“She really was in the newspaper. Granny wasn’t wrong.”

Shen Weimin nearly exploded with frustration. “You’re not going back home? Planning to be a farmer forever?”

Xie Tingyu gave a slight cough and said, “Aren’t we all farmers right now? There are things you don’t understand…”

He looked at Shen Weimin with the gaze of someone “in the know,” tinged with pity.

“Help me with something,” he said, shifting to a serious tone. “First, go to the county and buy a copy of the People’s Daily from October X. Then help me mail some documents. While you’re at it, find someone in the team who can sing and play instruments…”

The quiet murmurs of the men’s conversation drifted softly from the room, vague and faint.

While feeding the pigs in the sty, Ye Qingshui idly thought: Xie Tingyu probably knows what happened today. As for Shen Weimin…

He’d probably talk bad about her behind her back again, just like before.

Ye Qingshui coughed loudly.

Inside the house, Xie Tingyu chuckled. “That’s enough talking. You should go. She won’t come in with you here. She’s probably being eaten alive by mosquitoes outside.”

Shen Weimin was left speechless by how quickly Xie Tingyu turned on him.

…

The night was cool and clear.

After a long day, Ye Qingshui’s stomach cramped in pain. She tossed and turned, unable to sleep. This was her first period in this lifetime, and it was not going smoothly. Her mood had been low all day, and now her stomach ached even more.

Xie Tingyu noticed the movement and slowly got out of bed. In the dark, he fumbled his way over to her.

He let out a gentle sigh. “Shuiya, come sleep in bed.”

Ye Qingshui was uncomfortable, and hearing his voice made her even more irritable. She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep, refusing to respond.

Xie Tingyu quickly went quiet—probably went to the outhouse. Normally, she would get up to help him out of concern for his injuries, but right now, she didn’t have the energy to worry about him.

Time passed. Just as Ye Qingshui was about to drift off, the wooden door creaked open with a faint sound, followed by a cool night breeze. There was a quiet “scratch”—the sound of a match being struck.

The oil lamp was lit. Xie Tingyu walked in slowly, his footsteps heavy. He bent down and said softly:

“Shuiya, have some brown sugar water before bed.”

He must have known she wasn’t asleep. His large, dry hand rested gently on her forehead, and the other slipped behind her neck, lifting her into a sitting position.

Ye Qingshui opened her eyes to see his calm, cool face. A bowl of steaming hot brown sugar water was held before her, its warmth radiating in the air.

She frowned and spoke irritably, “I want to sleep.”

But Xie Tingyu brought the bowl to her lips, a little clumsy and a little stern. “Grandma said to make this for you. Be good.”

Ye Qingshui looked up at him and saw the light sheen of sweat on his forehead, glistening as it slid down his face. That much sweat on such a cool night felt oddly out of place.

Her arms, exposed to the night air, had broken out in tiny goosebumps.

“Why’d you go wake Grandma up?” she asked, frowning.

Xie Tingyu’s expression turned a bit odd. After a long silence, he finally said, “I didn’t mean to…”

“Just drink it. Then go to bed.”

As he spoke, another bead of sweat rolled down from his brow and soaked into his cotton undershirt. He lowered his head to wipe the sweat and took a breath. The faint oil lamp light shone on his deep, angular face, reflecting her silhouette in his dark eyes—small, yet completely filling them.

Very rarely was she looked at so closely and attentively by him. In that moment, Ye Qingshui felt an illusion, a moment of dazed confusion.

She quietly sipped the sugar water in the bowl. The slices of ginger were thick, and the sugar water carried a strong, pungent ginger flavor. As it went down, it burned her throat and warmed her stomach. The sharpness of the ginger stung her eyes, making them feel misty—both spicy and sour.

Xie Tingyu frowned. His cold expression held a trace of disdain: “Why are you crying?”

Ye Qingshui wiped her eyes. “I’m not crying.”

She had drunk half of the sugar water. It was overly sweet—so sweet it made her uneasy. She had never drunk anything so sugary before.

Staring at the remaining half bowl, she couldn’t finish it.

Xie Tingyu frowned again.

He stared at her. There was a slight sheen of tears at the corners of her eyes, and she stubbornly lifted her chin to glare back.

The small, bean-sized flame of the oil lamp was blown by the night wind, flickering with a soft hum. The light danced across the walls, and the man’s cold eyes held a trace of inexplicable emotion—dark and deep as if they could drip water. Time seemed to freeze at that moment, and a quiet, indescribable tenderness flowed between them.

Just then, Mother Ye’s drowsy voice called from outside: “Shui’er… is your stomach hurting? Mom will come take a look.”

Inside the room, both Xie Tingyu and Ye Qingshui averted their eyes at once.

With a clang , Xie Tingyu set the bowl down on the table. “A-niang, don’t come in yet.”

He helped Ye Qingshui up and guided her to the bed, pushing her gently but efficiently. He then quickly rolled up the bedding and stuffed it into the cupboard—his movements smooth and without hesitation.

After waiting outside for a while, Mother Ye entered the room and saw her daughter and son-in-law sitting on the bed.

Her daughter was holding a bowl, head down, drinking the sugar water.

Yawning in her tiredness, Mother Ye walked over and touched Ye Qingshui’s palm—warm. Her back was slightly sweaty. She looked closer and saw that her daughter’s lips had regained color.

“I thought something serious had happened… She looks fine. Little Xie was so anxious he nearly set the firewood shed on fire…”

Mother Ye suddenly fell silent, realizing she’d spoken too freely. It was the middle of the night, and her mind wasn’t clear—she had accidentally exposed her son-in-law.

She quickly gathered her wits and added, “Since Shui’er’s fine, that’s good. Little Xie knows how to make ginger sugar water now. Let her drink a bit before bed from now on.”

After speaking, she rubbed her eyes, closed the door, and left.

Leaving Xie Tingyu and Ye Qingshui to stare awkwardly at each other.

Xie Tingyu cleared his throat. “It’s nothing. A-niang exaggerated.”

“You should rest now.”

Ye Qingshui couldn’t picture him panicking enough to nearly set the firewood shed on fire. That must’ve been her mother’s imagination. Someone like him—a highborn young master used to refined living—wouldn’t have any experience with firewood. If anything, he probably fumbled and almost set it ablaze by accident.

Noticing that the bedding on the floor had been put away, Ye Qingshui gave up on the idea of sleeping on the floor. When her body touched the soft bed sheets, her bones felt like they were melting. Autumn had arrived, and Xie Tingyu had taken out his soft comforter. Lying on it felt like sinking into a cloud made of soft, fluffy cotton.

Seeing her dazed, childlike expression, Xie Tingyu turned around and couldn’t help but laugh.

After a while, he pulled the blanket over her, covering her from the neck down, leaving only her face exposed.

He said softly, “Sleep.”

His deep voice was as mellow as aged wine—gentle but with a lingering strength, warm as a spring breeze, leaving one drowsy and intoxicated.

Ye Qingshui closed her eyes and soon fell asleep.

Xie Tingyu looked at her young, tender face nestled in the moss-green quilt, still glistening with sweat, with strands of hair clinging to her cheeks. The corners of her eyes showed exhaustion but also peace. She slept soundly, completely at ease.

Her grown-up features still carried a hint of youthful innocence—somewhere between girl and woman—like a flower bud slowly blooming, delicate and beautiful.

In Xie Tingyu’s dark eyes, it was as if a small flame had ignited. He stared silently for a long time.

Eventually, he resigned himself to fate and went to the wardrobe to pull out bedding and sleep on the floor.

…

The next day.

Shen Weimin was efficient. By noon, he had already bought a copy of the People’s Daily . He pulled out one of the pages, stroked his chin, and clicked his tongue in amazement.

“Turns out someone at the educated youth station subscribed to the paper. But how come I never saw this article?”

This question gave him pause. He used to think that gossip and arguments among women weren’t worth fussing over, but now that he thought more deeply, this situation wasn’t so simple.

He couldn’t help but tease Xie Tingyu: “They say since ancient times beauty brings trouble, but in our case it’s the pretty boy that’s the troublemaker. Brother Yu, how does that feel?”

Xie Tingyu said nothing and tucked the newspaper into the cabinet.

Shen Weimin added, “I also mailed out the materials you gave me. And I found that singing troupe you asked for—musicians, singers, the whole deal. Cost me five yuan!”

Xie Tingyu tried to pay him back, but Shen Weimin waved it off with a scowl: “You think I need your petty cash?”

“Brother Yu, what exactly are you trying to do?”

Xie Tingyu replied, “Nothing in particular.”

He smiled, but the smile was faint—like a cold wind blowing through winter.

Ye Qingshui brought in lunch and saw the eerie smile on his face. It gave her chills. She called, “Xie Tingyu, time to eat!”

Today she had made Furong Chicken Slices over Rice —using the best part of the chicken breast, finely shredded and minced, mixed with egg whites and pork, then pan-fried into thin slices. The chicken slices were wide and delicate, thin but held their shape. She cut lettuce, sprinkled green peas and shredded scallions on top, then poured in starch-thickened broth for a silky texture.

The dish was as pale as jade, tender and fragrant, as if soaked in heavenly nectar—both delicious and nourishing. A high-protein, easily digestible meal—perfect for someone recovering from injury.

Xie Tingyu, who spent his days eating and sleeping, would surely put on a few pounds at this rate.

Smelling the aroma, Shen Weimin instinctively swallowed. His stomach grumbled loudly in protest.

Xie Tingyu smiled faintly, stirred the small spoon, and took a light sip. The tender chicken slid smoothly down his throat—refreshing and savory…

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