When he said that, Lu Liu became even more determined to make him change them. How uncomfortable must that be?
Lu Liu had learned how to speak with tact. He liked to consider the other person, to make them comfortable. He spoke gently, going along with them. In the past, he would have acted spoiled, saying it made his heart ache and insisting on taking care of him that way.
Now, he coaxed and praised instead. “Dafeng, you’re tall, with long legs—you can sit on the bed and still reach the foot basin. It won’t delay anything. I’ll just step out for a moment. If you’re worried, come with me. The kids can’t do without you, and I can’t carry a big basin of hot water myself. Later, you can rinse your feet in the yard and then bring the water inside. Look at me—I’ve said it so many times, just listen to me this once, okay? You’re the best!”
Li Feng loved hearing him talk. No matter what he said, it sounded pleasant. His tone lifted at the end, making people feel happy. Every sentence flowed into the next, full of praise, his face all smiles—everything about it was good.
So he relented. Carrying the children, he went out into the yard, walking them around. By himself, he could spin them in circles, playing “flying,” letting them “ride a horse.”
Lu Liu went to the kitchen to fetch hot water, and laughter filled the yard.
He found a pair of large straw sandals and first helped Li Feng change into them.
After rinsing his feet, Li Feng made two trips—first bringing the children back inside, then returning to carry in the hot water. Inside, Lu Liu had already found thick cotton shoes and set up the foot basin for him.
Even while busy with all this, Lu Liu kept chattering after him, “Oh dear! This is my fault—I said I’d take care of you, but I’ve got you running around instead. You must be tired, right? I’ll serve you properly right now!”
The word “serve” meant many things to Lu Liu. Between husband and husband, it was something understood without being spoken.
Serving food was “serving,” helping change clothes was “serving,” leaning in close for a hug was also “serving.”
This time, “serving” meant bringing over a small stool, sitting at the edge of the bed, and massaging Li Feng’s legs.
Behind Li Feng, the two noisy children were climbing over him, grabbing at him, occasionally pounding him with their little fists.
In the short time since returning home, Li Feng hadn’t said much, yet he felt deeply satisfied. The fatigue in his body remained, but the dust in his heart had been completely swept away.
He pressed down on Lu Liu’s small fists, stopping him from pounding his legs.
“My muscles are tough—you won’t get through. Don’t end up hurting your hands.”
Lu Liu tilted his face up to look at him. The moment their eyes met, his eyes stung. Even his smile carried a hint of bitterness.
He couldn’t quite explain what felt bitter—he was clearly happy, yet tears suddenly streamed down his face.
Lu Liu pulled his hands back to wipe his face, not looking away. “Dafeng, I’ve missed you so much during this time. The house has been busy, the children are learning to walk, and I’ve been studying too—but there’s always time when I think about you. It feels different somehow. Back at the mountain stronghold, I adapted. But here in the prefectural city, I get anxious, and sometimes I cry.”
He tried to put it into words, thinking back to when they flew kites together.
The higher the kite flew, the harder it became to hold the spool. After a while, his arms would grow sore.
He thought maybe it was because, after coming to the city, he had truly felt how far the distance was.
Last year at the stronghold, he only knew the city was far away. It was only after enduring the journey himself that the distance became real to him.
Li Feng was like a kite that could fly very, very far. Just like holding the spool made his arms ache, his heart ached because he was holding onto Li Feng. That was why it felt sore, why it felt bittersweet.
Lu Liu didn’t hide his thoughts. In front of Li Feng, he said everything. Hearing this analogy, Li Feng’s heart also swelled with a bittersweet feeling.
“Xiao Liu, you really have me tethered.”
He truly was like a kite, with an invisible string tied to his heart.
They didn’t soak his feet for long. Li Feng dried them and poured out the water. After dinner, he played with the children for a while to help them digest, then went to bathe. He even washed his hair. Lu Liu heated an iron basin, and Li Feng sat inside to dry his hair by the fire. The whole family gathered around the stove, chatting.
The doors and windows were shut, the room dim, lit only by candlelight.
The glow of the candle cast a warm layer of light over everyone’s faces.
Li Feng kept certain things to himself—Er Tian’s hurtful words, and the trip he and his brother made to West Mountain. Instead, he spoke in detail about the chieftain’s teachings, what he had seen and experienced during his return home, and finally the arrangements for Er Tian and his wife.
Once the honey workshop was built, Wang Dongmei would be given a job there. Er Tian would work with the delivery caravan, traveling back and forth—hard work, but it would also let him see the world beyond.
“He cares about his pride. Life isn’t easy for him right now. After he comes to the city and sees how prosperous it is, he might not come to see us. But after a year or two, when he’s saved some money and things at home improve, he’ll probably bring his wife and children to visit.”
Li Feng spoke naturally, his tone unchanged. Even Chen Guizhi, who knew her son well, didn’t notice anything off—or perhaps she was too preoccupied thinking about Er Tian to dwell on the details.
Shun-ge’er then talked about the matchmaking and the shop. He had grown fond of being the shop manager; even a small shop satisfied him. Recently, he had learned a lot from Shopkeeper Wang. His mindset had become steadier, and his goals for the future clearer. He was no longer impatient in how he spoke or acted.
“A person’s change can be fast or slow—it takes time to settle,” he said. “What Brother Yang taught me before—I thought I remembered and understood it, but I didn’t, really. After training at the shop, I feel like I’ve improved. And now learning from Shopkeeper Wang, I improve even more. I like this feeling.”
As for the matchmaking, he only said briefly, “I didn’t like any of them.”
Lu Liu held a cotton cloth, wiping and combing through Li Feng’s hair as he spoke. “I went to learn too. I said I’d go after things got less busy, but Brother wouldn’t allow it—he took me along every day. Mother and Shun-ge’er are always tied up, either with the children or at the shop. I study in the morning, and in the afternoon, when I have time, I explain things to them. I’m afraid of missing something, so I listen very carefully. Since I’m the one passing it on, sometimes they don’t understand, so I have to think of examples or explain it differently. If I still can’t manage, I go ask Brother, and if he doesn’t know, we ask Shopkeeper Wang the next day. I feel like I’ve improved too.”
He explained the matchmaking situation more clearly. “This is just the beginning. Some private matchmakers have connections—they’ve heard about our family through the official matchmakers, and then about our business. They’re very interested. By the end of the year, we might find more candidates. Mother thinks the first batch we saw are already the ‘good ones’ the matchmakers have on hand. It’ll be hard to find better later. She wants to arrange for Hai Youtian and Shun-ge’er to meet outside, maybe at a restaurant or tea house, so Hai Youtian will feel more at ease and they can talk properly.”
When Li Feng asked Shun-ge’er what he thought, he just spread his hands. “No thoughts.”
He described Hai Youtian’s behavior during this time—plainly, without embellishment.
Hearing about how attentive Hai Youtian had been, Li Feng fell silent.
It really didn’t seem promising. Coming and going from their home so often, yet he had no feelings for Shun-ge’er at all?
Only Chen Guizhi still insisted, “They haven’t even had a proper meeting yet. Knowing each other isn’t the same as matchmaking.”
So they changed their approach, telling Shun-ge’er how different things would be during a proper meeting.
Shun-ge’er: “…” As if he were a child to be fooled.
In the evening, Li Fei returned from school. Li Feng handed him the letters, clothes, and food that had been sent from home.
Li Fei was delighted. “They actually sent me things! Before I left, I asked, and they said I hadn’t been gone long enough to miss me at all! So that was all a lie!”
With his return, night fell quickly.
As they prepared dinner, a voice called from outside—it was Xie Yan, calling for Lu Liu.
Li Feng heard it and stepped out to take a look.
The two of them were being secretive, whispering and passing something over without letting him see.
When Lu Liu came back inside, Li Feng saw Xie Yan looking smug and asked, “Your husband told you to do something, didn’t he?”
Xie Yan: “…”
He really did not like talking to Li Feng.
After dinner, everyone returned to their rooms.
By the bedside, Li Feng found a scroll, about the size of a book.
He raised an eyebrow, glanced at Lu Liu, and picked it up. Unrolling it, he saw that it was indeed a painting.
The figures in the painting were Lu Liu and himself, in a very unique style—he was inside Lu Liu’s mind, inside his heart.
There was no need for explanation. Li Feng understood it at a glance.
During the day, they could suppress their longing. But at night, it broke like a flood. When their eyes met, it was like sparks striking—heat crackling between them. And now, this only ignited it further.
Like two pieces of firewood dried under the sun until not a trace of moisture remained—just the slightest touch, and they would burst into flame.
