Chapter 52

Chen Jue had a nightmare, one about the battlefield.

That was strange.

He had never seen a real battlefield; what was shown on TV didn't count.

He hadn't been to the Iraq War either—he hadn't graduated yet back then—but he'd watched documentaries. The greatness of Doctors Without Borders was something ordinary people couldn't really grasp.

Moving through a hail of bullets, watching people die one after another, orphans being made one after another—blood stopped being the big deal; the psychological toll was the heaviest.

The most deaths Chen Jue had ever witnessed were during the pandemic, but those were just cold numbers, impossible to picture directly.

The bloodiest scene he'd ever seen was a multi-car pileup. Two years back, on the highway, there was just such a terrible chain-reaction accident. Nearly all the ER and surgery doctors at Zhonghai First Hospital were dispatched, and he went too.

If the pandemic was a white hell, then the accident scene was a red hell on earth.

The cars were mangled, and the bodies pulled out of them were mangled too...

There were people thrown through windows, bodies crushed... limbs scattered everywhere...

Heads where brain matter and blood had mixed together...

For dozens of yards along the highway, there was blood everywhere...

It hit him straight in the brain.

Chen Jue had nightmares a few times after that rescue, but only a few. His personality ran cold and emotionless, so those gruesome scenes only gave him nightmares for a short while before fading.

After that, he never had nightmares like that again—just like when he first came to this world, he only had them for two days.

Chen Jue didn't know why he was dreaming of scenes like this again. No, wait—there was a change this time.

This time it was a battlefield with yellow sand filling the sky, an era of cold steel, crumbling walls and broken ruins, a biting north wind, the dead and the mutilated, bodies piled on bodies, blood nearly dyeing the sand red, and gleaming blades still reaping heads.

Chen Jue watched helplessly as a curved saber swung at the person in front of him. He tried to shout, but no sound came out—because he suddenly woke up.

His subconscious had woken him up just in time.

Chen Jue opened his eyes in the dark, wiped the sweat off his face, and once the panic and shortness of breath passed, he turned to look beside him. Huo Jilin had moved the kang table away at some point and was now asleep, leaning against him, his bedding pressed right up against Chen Jue's.

It even felt like he was trying to steal the pillow.

This was the complete opposite of how the two of them had been at each other during the day. Chen Jue really wanted to take a picture to show Huo Jilin, to let him see how arrogant and bossy he was during the day—too bad there was no phone.

Once he'd calmed down, Chen Jue thought about pushing him farther away, but he was afraid that if he kicked him awake, the guy would go off again. This lunatic was simply insane.

Chen Jue got caught in his own loop and laughed in spite of himself.

When had he started arguing with Huo Jilin anyway? He should've just ignored him, not gotten angry. If he got angry, he'd be pissed to death sooner or later.

Hadn't he gotten through it the same way in his past life? No matter what crazy stunt Huo Jilin pulled, what outrageous things he did, how he put him down—hadn't he just accepted it all calmly?

Maybe it was because he was pregnant now that his temper was out of his control.

Chen Jue took a deep breath, turned over, and continued sleeping.

He thought about what caused his nightmare—it must've been Huo Jilin's talk about "risking life and death on the battlefield" before bed that had wormed its way into his dream.

His accusatory tone had been so different from usual that it had stuck in Chen Jue's head.

It took Chen Jue a while to fall back asleep, so the next day he got up a bit late.

While he was washing up, Zhou Qingzhu came by again. He didn't even bother to greet Chen Jue, just furtively peeked toward the kitchen. Chen Jue kept brushing his teeth and paid him no mind.

Huo Jilin was cooking in the kitchen. Zhou Qingzhu came in with a bowl of corn cakes and said, "Brother Huo Lin, you're cooking?"

Huo Jilin glanced at him. "Yeah, what's up?"

Zhou Qingzhu looked him up and down, saw his expression was back to normal, and unconsciously let out a sigh of relief.

Brother Huo Lin could still cook—did that mean he'd accepted the baby in Brother Chen's belly? That'd be great.

That had been so scary. The two of them had made such a huge scene yesterday, and it wouldn't have been good to spend the full moon day apart.

Zhou Qingzhu handed the bowl of cakes to Huo Jilin and said with a smile: "I just made these corn cakes this morning. I added soybean flour—makes them softer—and some chopped greens. A little green is fine, tastes better. We're all family in the end, and being together is what matters. Brother Dalin, it's really great that you've come around..."

"A little green on top is nothing"—that was something Chen Jue had told him, or else he wouldn't have known how to talk Huo Lin around.

Huo Jilin looked at his expression and knew exactly what he was getting at. This guy had heard what he said yesterday, and now he was here to tell him to wear a green hat?

And "a little green is no big deal"!

What a great buddy Chen Jue had!

Huo Jilin laughed in exasperation and pointed at the door. "Get out, I won't see you off."

Zhou Qingzhu set the bowl down and backed away. "Alright, alright, alright, I'm going. Don't forget to eat the cakes, they're fresh."

After seeing that Huo Jilin wasn't causing trouble anymore, Zhou Qingzhu ran off in a flash.

As he ran, he thought: Brother Chen really is something, he's got Brother Dalin under control.

Chen Jue finished brushing his teeth and grabbed a round cake from the basin to eat. Zhou Qingzhu was right—the corn cakes with soybean flour and chopped greens tasted great.

The cornmeal and soybean flour were freshly ground, and every bite was full of the fragrance of new grain, lingering on the tongue.

Chen Jue held the cake, savoring it against the autumn mountains, eating with complete satisfaction. Over these past few months, he'd gotten used to this leisurely mountain life.

The rolling mountains made him feel safe.

It had been a long time since he'd had nightmares. He should take in the view more.

Huo Jilin came out to see him. "Drink some porridge with that in a bit." He wasn't worried about him choking.

Chen Jue glanced at him. Was Huo Jilin over it now?

No more crazy outbursts? And he'd even made him food?

Huo Jilin saw his expression and wanted to take a deep breath again. He was a bit disheartened—just how bad was his reputation in Chen Jue's eyes that he thought Huo Jilin would only cook for himself? Did he really think he'd neglect a pregnant man like that?!

After Huo Jilin suppressed that surge of frustration, he turned with a blank face and went back into the kitchen to cook.

Only his back still looked like the Huo Jilin who once looked down on everyone.

Chen Jue watched him cooking in the kitchen—disdainful but methodical—and didn't know what to say.

He thought to himself, Huo Jilin actually had a day like this.

They should let everyone at Zhonghai Hospital see him cooking in that shack of a kitchen.

Once they saw that, they'd finally be able to breathe easy.

While Chen Jue was lost in thought, Huo Jilin finished cooking.

He brought out a pot of vegetable and dough-drop soup.

The dough drops were very small, about the size of soybeans, each one uniform and well mixed. Each little piece was separate and distinct, with neatly chopped greens and scallions scattered through it. The broth was milky white and smelled rich, with a meaty aroma.

There were also two plates of pickled vegetables—one of crisp cucumbers and one of sour radishes—both Uncle Liu's specialties.

The rich aroma immediately kicked Chen Jue's appetite into gear.

He scooped up a spoonful of the distinct, surprisingly soft dough drops and couldn't help asking Huo Jilin, "How did you make this?"

Why did his own attempts always end up as one sticky mess?

In his past life, he'd also loved dough-drop soup, especially the Zhou family's versions—seafood, lean pork, tomato and egg...

So after coming here, he'd kept trying to make it in one pot, but he'd never gotten it right. Either the dough drops came out raw in the middle, or the whole thing turned into a paste.

Huo Jilin glanced at him. Aside from his gift for medicine, Chen Jue was a lost cause in just about everything else.

Even if he explained the method, Chen Jue still wouldn't be able to pull it off.

Still, Huo Jilin patiently laid out the steps for him: "For a beginner, start by mixing the dough drops. One bowl of flour, a third of a bowl of water. Use hot water—boiling water, that is. Pour the water in while stirring fast with chopsticks, and the dough drops will come out separate and distinct.

Once the dough drops are ready, set them aside. Then light the fire,"

Huo Jilin glanced at him. "I know you know how to do this. Use low heat.

When the pot's hot, add a spoonful of white lard and let it melt down in the bottom. Then sauté the scallions to bring out the fragrance—don't throw them all in, save half for when the dish is done.

Now, back to what I said: after sautéing the scallions, add hot water—again, boiling water—then cover the pot."

He ignored Chen Jue's stare and kept reciting like he was reading from a manual: "When it comes to a boil and starts bubbling, drop the dough drops in. Stir now and then with chopsticks while you do. If you don't want it too thick, add less. Once it boils again, toss in the greens and sprinkle in the scallions. If you like cilantro, add it after you've ladled it into the bowls."

Huo Jilin picked up his chopsticks and dropped a piece of cilantro into Chen Jue's bowl.

These were chopsticks he hadn't used himself yet.

Chen Jue looked at the cilantro in his bowl and thanked him. He'd grown the cilantro himself, but since Huo Jilin had been doing all the cooking lately, it had just been sitting there unused.

Huo Jilin only gave a faint twitch of his lips and said nothing. He knew Chen Jue was saving the cilantro for when he left and cooked on his own. With cooking skills at the pig-slop level, even a detailed manual wouldn't do him any good.

Huo Jilin felt a weight in his chest. He didn't want to get into it with Chen Jue, but he couldn't help the feeling.

He lowered his head and ate. The food was decent—edible, at least.

He was someone with extremely high standards for life, which was exactly why he'd been forced to develop his cooking skills.

Now cooking for Chen Jue turned out not to be a waste after all.

Watching Chen Jue eat until sweat beaded on the tip of his nose, Huo Jilin laughed at himself. Cooking for Chen Jue had actually given him a real sense of accomplishment.

Chen Jue had no idea about all the drama going on inside him—he was too busy eating.

The dough-drop soup with cilantro was way too good. Chen Jue unconsciously downed two bowls—the big, coarse ceramic bowls you'd find in a farmhouse.

He was shocked by his own appetite. In the past, even when he was starving, he could only manage one bowl of his own cooking.

When he had no appetite, he couldn't even get through half a bowl. And since he never knew how much to make, there'd be leftovers, which he'd reheat for the next meal. But reheated a second time, it tasted even worse, so he'd choke down half a bowl.

Now he was going overboard. He needed to watch his portions.

His belly couldn't get too big, or giving birth would be a problem.

If the baby got too big, he wouldn't be able to operate on himself.

If he died along with the baby because of that, it'd be his own fault.

He couldn't fight fate, but at least he could control things on his own end.

The corn cakes Zhou Qingzhu had brought ended up with no room left in his stomach. Chen Jue regretfully wrapped them up to save for lunch.

Huo Jilin, as usual, led the horse and headed up the mountain with him. He couldn't stop Chen Jue from going up the mountain, and Chen Jue couldn't stop him from tagging along.

The two of them walked in silence.

Neither of them brought up yesterday's topic again, as if that page had been blown away by the wind.

As they passed Uncle Liu's house, Chen Jue called out to Zhou Qingzhu. Uncle Liu came along too and brought up the matter of the horse stable for Old Horse Ancestor with Huo Jilin.

"Dalin, teach Qingzhu how to lead the horse. For the next few days, Qingzhu and I will go up the mountain with Jue Geer. You, Qingshan, and Dajiang start making mud bricks. While the weather's good, let's get the stable built. It could turn cold any day now. After the start of autumn, every autumn rain brings a chill."

Huo Jilin really didn't know much about farming or household stuff, so he just went along with Uncle Liu's plan.

"Alright. I'll go up the mountain with you all in the mornings, and I'll work on the mud bricks in the afternoons."

Leading the horse was easy—Chen Jue could do it. After the horse had accepted Huo Jilin, it had also grown familiar with Chen Jue, since Chen Jue applied medicine to it every day. The horse was sensible.

Huo Jilin went up in the mornings to help Chen Jue with the heavy labor. Chen Jue had a plan for his first stop—he'd dig for certain things first, then try his luck looking for caterpillar fungus in the afternoon, with the three of them working together.

Caterpillar fungus grew in pine and broadleaf forests, which happened to be on the front mountain—a better location than the back.

Although Huo Jilin hadn't seen any wary expressions from Old Horse Ancestor lately, it was safer not to go there.

The next few days passed quickly.

The sky remained cooperative—clear and cloudless, blue as the sea, with big cotton-like clouds. It was truly crisp autumn weather.

When it got warm around noon, Chen Jue would lean against a tree to rest, with Zhou Qingzhu leaning next to him, covered by a large fur coat Huo Jilin had brought along.

Every time Zhou Qingzhu watched Huo Jilin drape the coat over Chen Jue with a cold face, he had to struggle to keep from laughing.

Brother Dalin was a real man—flexible and resilient. He'd accepted the green hat so quickly and still treated Chen Jue so well.

A true man!

Zhou Qingzhu covered Chen Jue with the coat again. Brother Chen was also impressive—skilled at managing his husband.

He should learn from that.

Look how soundly he slept, completely unconcerned.

Chen Jue had still been having those fragmented nightmares at night lately, like a serial drama that kept continuing. Chen Jue was annoyed but helpless—such psychological issues weren't easy to resolve.

Especially since he had other psychological problems now.

When he realized that the thought of "both he and the baby would die in childbirth" didn't frighten him at all, and that he even felt it was simply fate, he knew he was in trouble.

Zhou Qingshan's PTSD came from war, but his own came from losing faith in himself and no longer wanting to live.

He knew it was depression, but knowing that didn't help—no doctor could save him.

Now that he was pregnant, he couldn't take antidepressants either, so he just had to take it one day at a time.

Chen Jue slept with his head turned to the side, brow furrowed.

Young folks need their sleep, so Uncle Liu sat nearby, picking wild dogwood berries while shaking his head at the two sleeping figures.

In his view, Chen Jue was just a bit more fond of sleeping and a bit less talkative—nothing else was wrong.

Depression is rarely noticeable to others.

If Huo Jilin hadn't been Chen Jue's rival for so many years, paying more attention to him than anyone else did, he wouldn't have noticed anything unusual about Chen Jue either.