Chapter 44

Ye Family Village.

Waking up early in the morning, Ye Qingshui had dark circles faintly under her eyes from staying up all night, racking her brain about how to get Xie Tingyu to come to his senses.

She had just rubbed her eyes open when she saw the man sleeping on the floor — and was shocked.

The man was half-naked, a thin blanket barely covering him. One corner of the flimsy quilt lay across his abdomen.

Eight sculpted abs were clearly visible to Ye Qingshui’s eyes. His skin was even fairer than a woman’s, yet not at all feminine — rather, strikingly sexy. His neck and collarbones were sharply defined and made quite an impression. Even the two-meter-long mat wasn’t enough for him; he was sprawled diagonally across it, his long legs awkwardly stretched out.

Although in the previous month he couldn’t wear clothes to sleep due to his injury, at least back then he had bandages covering him.

But now that his wound had healed, he had been quite conscious about wearing clothes to sleep again.

Ye Qingshui never imagined she’d be greeted with such a vivid and alluring scene first thing in the morning.

Autumn had arrived, and the nights in the mountains were cold. Not covering oneself while sleeping could easily lead to catching a chill. Xie Tingyu’s way of treating his body so carelessly also annoyed her.

But she no longer planned to remind him. With a stony face, she walked past him and opened the door.

Xie Tingyu woke up quickly as well. In a hoarse voice, he asked,

“Shui’er, what are we eating today?”

He promptly got up, put on his clothes, and tidied up his bedding.

Coming up behind her, he teased with a lazy, playful tone,

“You stared at me for quite a while just now.”

“Was it… satisfying?”

Ye Qingshui’s face fell. She hadn’t expected that he had already woken up and was only pretending to sleep. Her tone turned frosty:

“What’s there to look at? All that pale skin, like a woman — not manly at all.”

Xie Tingyu’s face froze. That wasn’t the kind of reaction he had hoped for.

He lowered his head and glanced at himself.

From the collar up, he was still a light wheat color, but below the collar his skin was clearly pale. Before coming to the countryside, his skin had at least been evenly tanned. But since arriving here, it had gotten whiter.

When working, Xie Tingyu rarely took off his shirt like the others. Occasionally, girls would come by to deliver water, and he tried to avoid making them uncomfortable.

He hadn’t expected Ye Qingshui to dislike how fair he was?

After brushing her teeth, Ye Qingshui quickly went to prepare breakfast.

Thinking about how fired up Xie Tingyu had been the day before, she figured he probably needed something to cool down. She fetched some dried lily bulbs and lotus seeds that had been sun-dried in the summer, soaked them, and added mung beans and a bit of lemon juice into water to soak for a while.

She brought them to a boil on high heat, let them simmer, then repeated the cycle three times. The result was mung beans and lotus seeds with a soft, sweet, melt-in-the-mouth texture, like fine sand. Finally, she added lily bulbs and rock sugar.

She ladled out the mung bean, lily bulb, and lotus seed porridge to cool. For men, it clears heat and calms the mind; for women, it nourishes beauty and complexion.

After brushing his teeth and reapplying his medicine, Xie Tingyu came to the woodshed for breakfast.

The air was filled with a light, sweet fragrance from the simmered porridge — appetizing and soothing. Xie Tingyu sat down and drank a bowl while it was still hot. The lotus seeds were soft and tender like sand, naturally sweet. The subtle floral taste of the lily bulbs lingered, leaving his throat comfortable and fragrant.

Xie Tingyu said,

“It tastes great. Shui’er, your cooking just keeps getting better.”

Ye Qingshui glanced at him, “I’m going to work.”

A rainfall had just passed in early autumn, loosening and moistening the soil. The busy farming season had arrived once again. All the commune members, no matter what kind of work they did normally, had to pitch in for the big job of sowing. After finishing breakfast, Ye Qingshui quickly went to the fields to transplant rice seedlings.

Xie Tingyu glanced at the carefully placed piece of pork on the stove and a thought crossed his mind.

At noon, when it was time to stop work and go home for lunch, Ye Qingshui put down her farm tools and got ready to cook.

She wiped the sweat from her brow, her throat parched from exhaustion.

Suddenly, surprised voices rose beside her.

“Shuiya, look! Is your man bringing you lunch?” Zhou Tingting tugged at Ye Qingshui’s sleeve, eyes wide in amazement.

“My gosh, it really is Comrade Xie!” another girl exclaimed.

It was rare to see Xie Tingyu delivering water or food to someone. Normally, people treated him well — if he treated someone else well, it was enough to stir envy.

Northern men were typically very patriarchal. In the village, many women who had married male educated youths couldn’t expect their husbands to be attentive or considerate. Women worked outside, and still had to serve their husbands and manage the household when they got home.

“After all this time, Comrade Xie is still just as neat and put-together.”

Well, of course. People had assumed that a married man, especially one recovering at home, would look a little sloppy. But Xie Tingyu looked refreshed and clean, even his beard was neatly shaved. His whole figure stood tall and upright like a young poplar tree.

“Ai, Shuiya, having to face a man like that every day—you could probably eat a few extra bowls of rice,” one auntie teased with a grin.

Tall and well-built, his clothes neat and structured, his features deep-set and handsome—before marriage, every unmarried girl in the village would get a racing heart at the sight of him. He was even better-looking than male leads in movies, and his family was well-off. Handsome and rich—those qualities alone made others envy Ye Qingshui.

“Comrade Xie is such a good man. I heard he’s still recovering?” one young woman asked Ye Qingshui.

Ye Qingshui looked up, puzzled.

Why wasn’t he staying at home and resting? What was he doing out here?

Xie Tingyu, holding the warm lunch box, looked a little sheepish. A slight blush appeared on his handsome face as he said:

“You must be hungry. Go ahead and eat.”

He handed the lunch box to Ye Qingshui.

“You made this?” Ye Qingshui opened the box. Inside was a simple stir-fry of vegetables and meat. There was sliced pork, which meant her mother didn’t cook it.

This was the first time she’d seen Xie Tingyu cook, and it made her feel… strangely awkward.

She poked at the food with her chopsticks. It was freshly made—the vegetables were still bright green and there was quite a variety: cucumber, okra, water spinach. The slices were neatly arranged, which at least salvaged the presentation.

It looked nice enough, but who knew how it would taste?

Ye Qingshui recalled how the last time he tried to make ginger soup, he nearly set the woodshed on fire. She sighed. Not wanting to waste food, she quickly shoveled a few spoonfuls of rice into her mouth.

The vegetables were bland, like no salt had been added—but better that than being too salty.

The meat slices were a little burnt, bitter even. Still edible, though—pork lard did add a tasty fragrance, and food cooked with enough oil was always better. To the onlookers, this lunch box looked quite enviable.

Ye Qingshui’s marriage had elevated her entire family’s living standards. Even in the countryside, she got to eat meat every few days. People could only imagine how much better her life would be once she returned to her in-laws.

Seeing Ye Qingshui eating without a change in expression, Xie Tingyu asked:

“Does it taste good?”

Ye Qingshui replied calmly,

“Why don’t you try it yourself?”

She didn’t know how to rate his cooking skills.

Then, to her astonishment, Xie Tingyu picked up a piece of meat from her bowl and ate it naturally. Then he picked up some vegetables and ate that too.

Totally ignoring Ye Qingshui’s wide-eyed shock.

W-Wait. Why was he eating from her bowl? Wasn’t he from the city and super particular about hygiene? Wouldn’t he be uncomfortable sharing someone else’s chopsticks?

After eating, Xie Tingyu had a strange look on his face.

The meat was both tough and burnt, bitter to the taste. The vegetables were flavorless—some overly salty, some not at all. Even he was surprised how inconsistent the taste was, considering it all came from the same pot. Yet this little girl ate with such composure, not a trace of complaint on her face as she scooped up big bites.

He coughed lightly, a tinge of red creeping up his pale cheeks.

“Shui’er, drink some tea to soothe your throat.”

The tea was made from dried camellia flowers mixed with lemon—sweet and tangy, very refreshing.

At least this lunch had something presentable.

Xie Tingyu said,

“I’m going to bring lunch to A-niang(Mother) and A-po(Grandma). Take your time eating, Shui’er.”

And with that, he picked up the other lunch boxes and quickly disappeared.

Though he was gone, the gossip about him was not.

“Did I see that right? Comrade Xie actually ate from Ye Qingshui’s bowl?”

“That’s… really not proper, is it?”

A few unmarried girls said, stunned.

Sure, they were husband and wife, and could do whatever they wanted behind closed doors—but out in public like this? It was shocking, to say the least.

Some married women just pursed their lips and said nothing. These unmarried girls didn’t understand the charm of intimacy. They didn’t realize that during the honeymoon phase, everything they did together still felt exciting and new.

Ye Qingshui heard the scattered whispering around her, her face showing a trace of helplessness.

Xie Tingyu had simply brought her lunch. Yet the way people were reacting, you’d think he was a celebrity—every little move drawing everyone’s attention.

The floral tea he brought was in generous supply, and even Zhou Tingting came over for a sip to soothe her throat.

She covered her mouth, giggling as she leaned in close and whispered into Ye Qingshui’s ear:

“I always thought Xie Tingyu was one of those cold, stoic types—like a block of ice. Didn’t expect him to be this thoughtful.”

“He cooked that meal?”

Ye Qingshui flipped through her lunch and said,

“If you tasted his cooking, you probably wouldn’t call him thoughtful anymore.”

Zhou Tingting said seriously,

“A guy like Comrade Xie, born and raised in a compound household with servants—he probably never had to cook his entire life.”

“Shuiya, I heard your cooking is amazing. Why don’t you teach him?”

“Teach him how to slice meat and veggies, how to start a fire and cook.”

Just imagining it made Zhou Tingting feel giddy.

She scratched her nose and said,

“We northern men rarely step into the kitchen. I’m not kidding—my dad has never cooked a single meal in his life. So… Comrade Xie is still trainable. Shuiya, you’re living a life of bliss and don’t even realize it.”

Ye Qingshui gave a wry smile. She didn’t have the heart to burst Zhou Tingting’s bubble.

Train a man she was planning to kick to the curb? So he could cook well for his next wife?

Thinking of that made her feel a little suffocated.

She picked at the unevenly seasoned vegetables and continued eating them, though the taste now seemed dull.

Forget it. She might as well teach him. If they kept eating like this, it’d be a terrible waste of food. Eating should be a joyful thing. Every grain deserved to be respected, not ruined.

Meanwhile, not far off, He Fang, who worked in the same group, stared at Ye Qingshui with a bland expression—but her hands were clenched tightly in jealousy as she watched her eat her boxed lunch with a happy face.

Stabbing her chopsticks into her own hardened rice, she muttered to Ruan Lingyu:

“This rice is too dry. I’ve got no appetite.”

Ruan Lingyu sensed something was off but couldn’t quite say what.

She silently continued eating her own lunch.

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