“Don’t just promise easily and then chicken out at the last moment, losing your manhood,” Shu Rui said.
Lu Ling’s mouth moved quickly, but he hadn’t yet listened to the rules.
“Just tell me,” Lu Ling replied.
Seeing Lu Ling’s certainty, Shu Rui pressed his lips together and turned slightly away: “First, even if we are together, living under the same roof as two young men, with our strength so uneven, you mustn’t harbor any improper thoughts.”
Lu Ling’s eyes widened, and he jumped forward, frowning: “Not even think? Isn’t that too harsh? When I trained in martial arts, my master would have me stand on a wooden post three zhang high, no wider than my foot, not allowed to move hands or feet, yet never once told me I couldn’t think!”
Shu Rui’s face turned slightly red: “Who cares what you think? I’m not a bug inside your head. Just don’t touch me recklessly.”
Lu Ling exhaled and nodded: “Alright, I understand. I won’t bully you.”
Shu Rui relaxed a little and held out his hand: “Then give me the voucher for the petty cash you intended to give me.”
Lu Ling furrowed his brow, arms crossed: “Before, you refused whatever I offered. Now, knowing better, you ask for it back?”
Shu Rui wasn’t concerned with his teasing: “What relationship did we have before? Now, if we are to be close, I can’t let go of what matters most to you.”
Lu Ling chuckled lightly: “Fine, as you wish.”
“Third, the most important,” Shu Rui continued, looking at Lu Ling: “If one day we go separate ways, whatever the reason, we should not entangle or resent each other. No defamation, part amicably, preserving what was good.”
“Can you do all three?”
Lu Ling frowned deeply: “I have no objection to the first two, but the last… I can’t agree.”
“Why forbid reconciliation after a split? That’s unreasonable!”
Shu Rui pressed his lips: “I only insist that there be no resentment or defamation.”
“If there were no prior parting, there wouldn’t be such concerns.”
“This won’t do. If we must follow that rule, I need to add one thing.”
“Add what?”
“If we are together, it must be with the intention of marriage. We cannot part simply because of a quarrel or obstacle.”
Shu Rui paused, lowering his gaze slightly, but a smile tugged at his lips.
——
That night, Shu Rui lay on his bed, playing with the petty cash voucher he had taken from Lu Ling, his brows curved, heart quietly joyful.
Reaching this step with him was something he had never dared imagine. Perhaps returning to Chaoxi Prefecture, loved by his parents, had smoothed his path despite small hardships along the way.
He carefully set aside the voucher.
Seeing a bronze mirror on the stool, Shu Rui hesitated, wondering whether to reveal his face to Lu Ling.
This silly boy had seen him apply makeup and even bought powdered pearls to use—he didn’t mind spending money.
But he thought, there would be time later; no need to reveal all at once.
With that resolved, Shu Rui covered himself with a thin quilt, relaxing as he hadn’t in a long time.
After a while, he pulled the quilt over his head and laughed quietly to himself.
Then he uncovered himself, resuming his usual composed demeanor, and turned toward the room beside him:
“Lu Ling.”
“Hm?”
Shu Rui’s eyes widened slightly at the prompt response, wondering if Lu Ling had been secretly listening.
“Are you asleep?”
Lu Ling, lying on the floor mattress, smiled slightly: “Why? Want me to keep you company?”
Shu Rui blushed, thinking this boy shameless.
He got up quietly, barefoot, and firmly latched the door. Then he returned to the bed: “Alright, you can come over.”
Lu Ling raised an eyebrow; he had heard the door being secured, guessing Shu Rui was up to mischief, yet still sat up.
“Are you sure? I can really come in. Better seal the window too.”
Shu Rui’s heart raced, thinking of Lu Ling’s experience in grand households, barging into rooms without hesitation.
He coughed softly: “I didn’t hear you. Go to sleep.”
Lu Ling’s lips curved, reclining again.
Shu Rui waited, hearing no movement, and finally snuggled under the quilt, half embracing it. He slept well, dreaming sweetly all night.
Days passed. Lu Ling ran a few errands at Zhang Shiwu’s martial hall and secured a teaching position—assistant instructor, eight days off per month, four guan six qian monthly. The head of the hall admired Lu Ling’s skill, though he had to follow regulations; Lu Ling would work at the hall first, future opportunities assured.
Meanwhile, Shu Rui sold drinks while delivering meals, also handling a bit of dockside business. With Lu Ling occupied at the martial hall, Shu Rui needed help. Luckily, Qing was available. Shu Rui hired him a day at a time, agreeing that for future dockside work, he would hire Qing at casual rates.
Qing had been washing clothes at home for extra income. Summer work was easy, but poorly paid—better in winter. He was happy to help Shu Rui. When no laundry jobs came, he would help run the drink stall.
Shu Rui considered how the household women spent their days. On this day, he bought lotus roots, minced pork, mixed with ginger, garlic, scallions, and soy sauce, stuffed the slices, sealed with flour paste, and deep-fried—making golden, crispy lotus root fritters.
He also fried fish chunks and assorted seafood balls.
Some patrons ate snacks with their drinks, so he made small bites to sell, convenient and using available resources.
The day before, he bought four pounds of chicken feet, blanched, boiled, marinated, and pounded with small tangerines, Sichuan pepper, scallions, garlic, and sauces. The feet were perfectly flavored, a bit sour and spicy—ideal for summer.
He displayed a sign; customers asked about the taste and loved it. Within two hours, everything sold out, boosting daily drink sales.
Customers returned the next day, but chicken feet weren’t always available. Shu Rui promised to restock when he could.
Qing watched the fire for Shu Rui, helping with pear syrup preparation. Shu Rui, now savvy, realized syrup could be cooked and stored in jars, thawed when needed—no need to make only what was required for the day.
One afternoon, while preparing dinner, Shu Rui simmered pear syrup, and the fragrance drifted through the village. Fruit farmers delivering fresh produce followed the scent, offering pears freshly picked from the mountains.
Shu Rui saw the convenience, inquiring about prices: “If I want regular deliveries, what’s the cost?”
The farmer, happy with the business, said: “Market prices are low, but mine is cheaper. Two coins outside per pound, mine one coin.”
Shu Rui tasted the pears—just as good.
“Any other fruits available?”
“Peaches, plums, winter melons, papayas… everything. Even rare varieties I can get through connections.”
Shu Rui said: “Pear syrup stores well, but other fruits may not. So when I need fruit, I’ll notify you, and you deliver according to schedule?”
“No problem. A steady trade works.”
The farmer explained that several shops at the southern market already sourced fruit from him; a stop at Shu Rui’s shop was convenient.
Shu Rui found this arrangement far easier, agreed on prices, set delivery rules, learned the farmer’s name, and finalized the deal.
That morning, the fresh pears came from Farmer Zhang, and Shu Rui immediately processed them.
Qing listened as Shu Rui idly asked him questions while tending the fire. He replied, “My mother also takes in laundry and mending work—don’t worry about being picky. Sometimes she even does the rougher jobs, like emptying chamber pots or collecting waste water. When she goes out, my younger sister follows to help with such tasks. My mother doesn’t push her, thinking she’s still too young and people might gossip; otherwise, she’d be left alone at home.”
Shu Rui knew many people would find such chores humiliating, yet he thought Mrs. Shan could endure it.
“You come over often. If Mrs. Shan is out, just bring her along. It would be lonely and dull for the little girl to stay home by herself.”
“She’s a mischievous one. If she comes over, she might pester you,” Qing said.
Shu Rui smiled: “How mischievous can she be? I’ve seen her a few times—she’s sensible and clever. Besides, having her here will make the courtyard lively.”
Qing, seeing Shu Rui sincerely invite his sister, agreed. The little girl, often left idle at home, was happy to join. At the inn, she didn’t act out, but helped light fires, clean vegetables, wash dishes—practically like a small helper—and showed remarkable attentiveness.
Shu Rui had initially meant to teach Qing a lesson by bringing his sister along, but seeing the siblings working diligently made him feel embarrassed. He suspected Qing had misunderstood his intentions, thinking he’d called her to help with chores, and quietly told him so.
Qing laughed: “At home, she’s always like this. I didn’t specifically tell her to do anything. If she had nothing to occupy her hands, she’d feel restless. She even said coming here was enjoyable—you treat her kindly, give her food—it makes her shy.”
Shu Rui could only sigh in admiration; the little girl was sensible, and the siblings both hardworking.
During the day, when they came to help, except for busy dockside food sales, they didn’t ask for payment. Shu Rui let them eat at the inn, and if leftover ingredients remained, he would send some home with Mrs. Shan. He also taught Shan’s younger sister some simple characters and arithmetic during her free time, making her even more eager to visit.
By July, the hottest month of the year, Shu Rui bought four large earthen jars to pickle vegetables at their peak freshness. He asked Zhang, the fruit farmer, to introduce him to a local vegetable trader, who delivered long beans, cabbage, radish, pickled greens, cucumbers, garlic, and young ginger to the inn.
Shu Rui didn’t specify exact quantities—he just showed the trader the four jars and asked him to deliver accordingly, paying him on receipt.
When Lu Ling was resting, Shu Rui had the trader help carry the vegetables. The morning meal finished, and the trader arrived with several baskets still glistening with dew. Shu Rui examined them, satisfied—the beans were tender, and the vegetables perfectly fresh.
Shu Rui planned ahead, knowing that good contacts for vegetables, meat, and fruits would save him effort in the future. He paid the trader and poured tea for everyone once the vegetables were moved.
He took out coins to settle payment: “Zhang highly recommended Old Liu’s vegetables. They are fresh and excellent. Keep in touch, so I can order more in the future.”
Old Liu was eager to deliver; the inn’s location allowed carts right to the door, unlike narrow alleys elsewhere. He appreciated Shu Rui’s friendliness and prompt payment, unlike buyers who tried to renegotiate prices after delivery.
Once Liu left, Shu Rui gathered seven large round sieves—three of his own, two borrowed from Qing’s family, and two from Yang Chunhua. Lu Ling washed the vegetables while Shu Rui laid them out to dry, filling all the sieves.
“The yard is too crowded; we need racks of varying heights for even drying,” Shu Rui said, wiping sweat from his neck.
For pickling, vegetables had to be dried first; losing some water made them last longer.
Lu Ling suggested, “Put them on the roof—it’s wider and sunnier.”
Shu Rui’s eyes lit up. Using a ladder, they moved the radishes and cucumbers to the roof. But as soon as they reached the top, a few radishes slipped and rolled away. Quick as Lu Ling was, they almost got smashed.
“Use bamboo sticks to string the radishes together,” Shu Rui instructed.
Yang Chunhua came by, watching Lu Ling hanging from a beam, holding one round radish with three clutched under his arm, while Shu Rui steadied the ladder. The scene was comical.
“The roof is sloped; these real vegetables will roll off otherwise.”
Shu Rui fetched bamboo sticks from the general store, strung the radishes, and tied them with hemp rope. Now it was secure.
Lu Ling jumped down, half the roof stacked with drying vegetables. By late afternoon, everything except the radishes was sufficiently dried.
Shu Rui boiled water, cooled it, and sterilized the jars with wine. Using ten pounds of water to one pound of salt, he added Sichuan pepper, then the dried garlic and young ginger, followed by the beans and cucumbers dried that day.
Lu Ling sniffed the slightly wine-scented jars: “Using wine won’t make it intoxicating, will it?”
“Do you think everyone has your tolerance? Just smelling it is enough to get tipsy.”
Shu Rui frowned slightly: “Move the knife—it’s taking up space here, put it aside.”
Previously, when his mind wasn’t clear, though he valued the knife, he sometimes left it at home. Now, with work at the martial hall, he kept it with him.
The Shan brothers couldn’t intimidate him anymore; they always waited until he left the hall before going off.
Lu Ling refused to move upon Shu Rui’s request. Normally, he wouldn’t even see Shu Rui at roll call. Now, after work, he would return home and eat together.
Shu Rui, exhausted from the day, would yawn, wash up, and sleep—barely two hours together during the day.
Knowing his affairs were busy and Shu Rui seemed to avoid him intentionally, he even regretted taking work at the martial hall. Rare days off allowed hand-holding, yet he couldn’t linger in front of Shu Rui.
Shu Rui understood his feelings—wanting to stay together—and treasured these rare moments under one roof. How many lovers enjoyed such treatment?
Although he wished he could be patient and kind, the young man seemed naturally adept at causing mischief.
Now, trying to move him aside, it was as if Lu Ling’s ears were deaf. Suddenly, a “crash”—one jar cracked.
Seeing the large knife lodged in the vegetable jar, Shu Rui’s eyes went wide, and he swung his hand down: “Look at what you’ve done!”
Lu Ling tensed, getting a light blow to the forehead, yet found it oddly satisfying.
Shu Rui inspected the jar—it was ruined. Angry, yet Lu Ling didn’t cry out, making Shu Rui feel guilty.
Looking up to check, he saw Lu Ling holding his head, beaming foolishly. Shu Rui pursed his lips, realizing he hadn’t really hurt him—he had even made him happy.