The summer rain fell heavily, covering the sky and darkening the day earlier than usual. Xiaoman, imagining the household would soon have their own wine, finished the remaining half gourd almost completely, coaxing Du Heng by saying it would warm him on the cold rainy day.
Du Heng glanced at Xiaoman, whose face was flushed from drinking. Seeing that the rainy weather posed no real danger, he gave in. The wind and chill of the night made the few thin layers of clothing insufficient, so the warmth from the wine was welcome. Du Heng continued reading by lamplight, while Xiaoman, warmed by the wine, fell asleep soundly. The rolling thunder outside did not stir him.
Du Heng, however, was startled by the sudden flashes of lightning and the booming thunder. The summer storm split the darkness, revealing the swaying silhouettes of old trees, looking like phantoms in the flickering light. Without a lightning rod, such a storm was dangerous; even a small trip outside could be risky.
The violent weather reminded Du Heng of the night of his own accident years ago—a night just like this, with wind and rain lashing about. He quickly finished his writing, went to bed earlier than usual, and wrapped his arms around the already sleeping Xiaoman. The warmth and solid weight of him calmed Du Heng’s mind somewhat.
Despite his fatigue, the storm made sleep difficult. Twisting and turning, he thought he heard a subtle movement in the house.
Du Heng frowned and quietly sat up, listening carefully. The storm outside made every sound clear, yet he could hear nothing unusual within the house. He wondered if perhaps a window hadn’t been closed properly and was creaking in the wind. But the rain had been falling steadily since morning, and at night it had only intensified. Xiaoman had insisted on closing the windows tightly to prevent the fermenting wine from spoiling.
Still uneasy, Du Heng got out of bed. Xiaoman shivered and mumbled in his sleep, prompting Du Heng to tuck him in again, patting his back until he was reassured he was asleep.
Lighting an oil lamp with a tinder, Du Heng stepped out of the bedroom. The main hall was quiet; all the windows were closed properly. Everything seemed normal.
As he turned to return, a sudden gust of wind nearly snuffed out the lamp. Du Heng quickly shielded the flame with his hand, avoiding disaster.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he stepped toward the back room—then froze. Why had such a strong wind suddenly risen indoors?
Rushing to the bedroom Xiaoman had previously used, Du Heng found it was in disarray. Since their marriage, he and Xiaoman shared a larger room, leaving the old room for storage of valuables.
Opening the door, Du Heng heard a dull thump, and a dark figure leapt from the window.
“Who’s there?!”
He chased to the window, holding the lamp high. A small, wiry figure dressed in black moved with the agility of a monkey, darting along the eaves.
Looking back into the bedroom, Du Heng saw the drawers had been ransacked, the room in chaos. Only one of the small jars by the bed remained.
Knowing the situation was serious, he grabbed the copper gong from behind the door, banging it loudly while pursuing the intruder. “Thief!”
Xiaoman, awakened first, initially thought it was a dream. The combination of rain and gong strikes jolted him upright. Seeing the bed beside him empty, panic seized him and his limbs went cold.
Without a second thought, Xiaoman ran out.
“Du Heng!”
“Go check the granary! See if anything’s missing!” Du Heng’s voice came from outside, followed by more harsh gongs.
The rain fell heavily. Xiaoman, plunged into fear by both the darkness and memories of past misfortunes, shouted Du Heng’s name, worried for him and anxious about the intruders in the house.
Fumbling, he lit a torch, the flickering flame revealing his fear. He rushed toward the granary, banging pots and calling out to scare off the thieves.
The granary door had been locked, but in his haste, the intruder had left the lock half-dislodged. Xiaoman pushed it open. Inside, a sack of newly harvested rice and another of soybeans were missing. The sorghum had not been touched—either there wasn’t time, or its lower value made it unworthy of attention.
He kicked the stool at the doorway in frustration, barely taking the time to straighten himself before hastily pulling the door shut and relocking it.
The storm raged on—wind, rain, and thunder—making it nearly impossible to alert the villagers.
Xiaoman hurriedly grabbed a torch, pouring extra oil onto it to keep it burning, preparing to search for Du Heng.
“Brother! H-His brother—is he with you?!”
Before Xiaoman could step outside, he heard sniffles and sobbing amid the rain. He frowned and saw Qin Xiaozhu running toward him, tears streaming down her face.
“What are you doing here? There’s a thief in the house! You shouldn’t be wandering around!” Xiaoman scolded.
“Our home was robbed too! Second Brother ran after them with a knife, and Mother chased after him, worried someone would get hurt. I-I didn’t know where anyone went, and I got scared.”
“What about Second Uncle? And Big Brother and Big Sister-in-law—surely they didn’t sleep through all this?”
“Father went to the county today and hasn’t returned. Big Brother and Sister-in-law went back to Mother’s home.”
Xiaoman’s brow furrowed tightly, so tight it could crush a fly. “Perfect timing, really. What did they take?”
“What else? Of course they took meat.”
“Stay here if you’re scared. Du Heng chased after the thieves—looks like there’s more than one. He’s strong, but if a fight breaks out, he won’t be able to handle them all alone.”
Seeing Xiaoman dash out with the torch, Xiaozhu wanted to stop him, but her small frame was no match for his speed.
“Where are you going without shoes? What if the thieves come back for more?”
“You stay home and guard your house! My valuables were stolen, and your house has even more worth protecting!”
Xiaozhu hesitated on the narrow path in front of Xiaoman’s house, unsure which way to go. A faint, flickering light appeared in the fields. After some thought, she decided to return home, wailing as she went, guided only by her familiarity with the dark path.
Suddenly, she slipped in the mud with a plop, crying even louder. As she struggled to get up, strong hands lifted her.
Covered in mud and unable to see clearly, she assumed the tall, familiar figure was her brother. Sniffling, she hugged him tightly. “Brother~ I’m so scared!”
The man paused and coughed dryly. “Brother? I’m Li Kai.”
Xiaozhu froze, then quickly pushed him away.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the thieves don’t come.”
Feeling embarrassed at having cried and mistaken someone for her brother, she stubbornly marched ahead.
Li Kai, watching her storm through the rain with her stubbornness, saw only the swaying shadow of her small figure in the dim light. He didn’t listen when she refused company this time.
A few steps later, he grabbed her like a small chicken and hoisted her onto his shoulder.
“Ah!” Xiaozhu screamed in panic, kicking and flailing. “Li Kai, you scoundrel! Put me down! You’ll pay—I’ll tell Father and Brother!”
Meanwhile, sounds of disturbance began rippling across the rainy fields. Lights flickered on as villagers awakened. Du Heng, following tracks left by a cart dragged by the thieves, finally caught sight of them.
Greedy to the end, the thieves were still unwilling to abandon the stolen goods. They dragged the cart along, but seeing the villagers emerge from all directions with torches and tools, panic finally set in.
“Run!”
With a low roar, Du Heng saw the thieves abandon the cart and scatter into the fields. On the sloped terrain, he didn’t chase after them immediately, instead running to secure the cart sliding downhill.
Grabbing the handles just in time, he prevented the jars inside from breaking. He exhaled a long sigh of relief as lightning split the sky overhead.
A moment later, a deafening thunderclap shook the earth nearby.
“Ah!”
A scream followed. Both villagers and Du Heng were startled, unsure who had been struck by the low-hanging lightning, a chill running down their spines.
“Xiaoman, Xiaoman!”
Du Heng heard the familiar voice and called back, “I’m here!”
A drenched figure dove into his arms. The heavy rain had soaked both of them. Xiaoman, trembling from fear, clung tightly to Du Heng’s waist, finally feeling his heart settle.
“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Du Heng murmured, holding him for a moment. Seeing the torches nearly extinguished and villagers still calling out, he prepared for the next steps.
Soon, more villagers appeared from the fields. Qin An met the couple on the path. “Xiaoman, Du Heng, are you alright?”
Xiaoman shook his head, then urgently asked, “Second Brother, what about you? Did you catch the thieves?”
“Those damn thieves—like their feet were greased! No wonder they were running all over the place, throwing off our chase. So it wasn’t just one of them… and at this time of year, they couldn’t resist stealing! I swear, I’ll catch them—one slash per thief!”
Qin An snarled, his fierce eyes scanning the rain-soaked fields for the culprits.
Du Heng quickly intervened, “Second Brother, don’t go overboard and cause bloodshed.”
“Relax. I know my limits. You two just get the goods back first. They’ve been rained on—don’t want the grain spoiled!”
“Also… we don’t even know who got struck by lightning out there. It’s dangerous.”
Xiaoman and Du Heng nodded, pulling the cart back toward the house. The home was brightly lit, though Xiaoman had no way of knowing how many thieves had been involved. He kept the lamps burning to give the impression that people were present, hoping to scare off any lingering thieves.
Seeing that the house was empty, Xiaoman muttered, “Qin Xiaozhu must have gone back home.”
He didn’t concern himself with where she had gone.
Once under the eaves, they quickly unloaded the cart. Everything came from their home: jars of cooking oil, soybeans, and rice. Thankfully, the oil containers weren’t broken—otherwise, it would have been a real heartbreak.
Unfortunately, the rice and grains had been soaked by the rain. Du Heng hurriedly grabbed a large winnowing basket and poured the soybeans in to dry. After the heavy rain, the earlier drying efforts were wasted. To prevent the beans from sprouting, he placed them near the warm stove, lighting a small charcoal fire to help dry them.
Xiaoman went into the room to check for any other losses.
After a while, Du Heng came back out and noticed that Xiaoman still hadn’t put on shoes—his feet were caked in mud.
“Sit down. I’ll get some water and wash your feet. How did you manage to run barefoot without hurting yourself?”
Xiaoman barely minded. With the house robbed and thieves still out there, his own soaked feet were the least of his concerns. It was summer, after all, and even with the rain, he didn’t feel cold. Earlier, the fright had left him shivering; shoes weren’t a priority.
“I’ll just rinse them in the courtyard. At least we got the goods back. My clothes are soaked anyway; I’ll change.”
He went outside to rinse his feet and slipped on a pair of straw sandals. “Ouch!”
“What’s wrong?”
Xiaoman frowned, feeling a sharp pain as he slid his feet into the sandals.
Du Heng squatted down to inspect, noticing the soles were stained with blood. Xiaoman had cut the bottom of his foot, and blood was flowing freely.
With a tight brow, Du Heng quickly scooped him up in his arms. “How did you hurt your foot without noticing?”
He set Xiaoman on a chair and examined his foot carefully. There was a wound about half the length of his little finger. Not long, but deep enough to draw blood through the thick skin of the sole—it must have hurt worse than if it were somewhere else.
“It’s fine,” Xiaoman muttered.
Du Heng quickly fetched cloth strips and alcohol to clean and bandage the wound. He couldn’t tell whether it had been a sharp stone or a branch that caused it, but seeing the blood made him uneasy.
As Du Heng treated the injury, Xiaoman stripped off his soaking wet clothes. Clinging wet garments were uncomfortable; being bare allowed him to move freely while Du Heng fetched fresh clothing. The cold wind made his arms goosebump.
Du Heng observed Xiaoman’s exposed form in the light of the lamp, feeling a twinge of helplessness more than embarrassment, then carefully lifted him and placed him on the bed.
“Don’t lie down yet. I’ll dry your hair first.”
Xiaoman pouted. “I only wanted you to give me clothes, but you just tossed me on the bed.”
Du Heng, whose own clothes were equally soaked, said, “Stay under the covers for now. I’ll change and then help you.”
Xiaoman wrapped himself in the thin quilt, eyes still on the young man at the wardrobe.
Previously, when they were intimate, the room had been unlit, and sometimes Du Heng had refused to light a lamp, leaving Xiaoman little control. Even after marriage, he hadn’t really seen Du Heng’s body. Today, amidst the chaos, he finally got a look.
Du Heng’s broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs were even more defined now than when he had first arrived. His back, pale and smooth, revealed subtle, well-formed muscles from labor.
A long cloth suddenly fell over Xiaoman’s head, and two hands grabbed and massaged his hair firmly.
“You don’t think about yourself at all,” Xiaoman muttered, pushing the wet cloth away. He frowned at Du Heng, fully dressed, moving with practiced efficiency. “Have you practiced dressing this quickly?”
Du Heng raised an eyebrow. “Still not satisfied?”
Xiaoman collapsed onto Du Heng’s shoulder, unwilling to cooperate with the hair-drying.
“It’s not that,” Xiaoman whispered, pressing close. “When I got up earlier, I didn’t see you… and then I heard the noise from the thieves. I was scared to death.”
Du Heng’s brow furrowed, pausing his hand on Xiaoman’s hair. He wrapped his arms around him, holding him close.
“Don’t ever leave me alone at home again. I was scared,” Xiaoman admitted, his pride making it hard to say. He pressed his lips together and looked away when Du Heng met his gaze.
Du Heng’s expression darkened slightly, a twinge of guilt surfacing as he realized he had indeed been careless.
He had only thought that it would be safer for Xiaoman to stay home than to run outside, but he had forgotten that thieves might still be hiding inside—or that there might be more than one of them. Xiaoman had already been frightened earlier, and today Du Heng had not fully considered his feelings.
“I didn’t expect there really would be thieves. It all happened so suddenly. I knew I had to wake you to chase them, but I forgot how scared you would be. I promise, I won’t leave you alone like that again.”
Xiaoman nodded. “I’m not blaming you.”
Du Heng gently stroked Xiaoman’s hair. “I know. I know you just wanted to tell me what you felt. That’s good. Now that you’ve told me, I’ll know what to do in the future.”
Xiaoman hugged Du Heng tightly, nuzzling into him.
“By the way, Xiaozhu came over earlier… and we don’t know where he went. Second Uncle and Big Brother aren’t home either. We should check on them.”
Du Heng agreed; it was true that a small child alone at home wasn’t safe.
The two of them donned their raincoats and went over to Qin Xiong’s house. The families lived close by, and from a distance they could see the house brightly lit.
Under the eaves stood two figures: Qin Xiaozhu, clenching his teeth, and Li Kai, frowning as he scanned the village. The two were about a meter apart, both craning their necks to observe the situation.
“What are you two standing at the door for? Come in quickly!”
Seeing Xiaoman and Du Heng approaching, Qin Xiaozhu ran to greet them, eager to invite them inside—more so than ever before.
“You’re unharmed, that’s what matters,” Xiaoman said, leaning on Du Heng’s back. Qin Xiaozhu had wanted him to go to their house, but now that he intended to check on theirs, Xiaoman stubbornly ignored the invitation. “Ah, I hurt my foot earlier, so I won’t go in. I just ran into Second Brother; he’s fine too.”
“Li Wuge, please keep an eye on my Second Uncle’s house,” Xiaoman shouted toward the man under the eaves.
Li Kai nodded, then gave a separate nod toward Du Heng.
“Hey, hey… you two!”
Qin Xiaozhu, frustrated by their coming and going, stomped his feet in anger. When he saw Li Kai, he finally fell silent.