Lu Yang took one look at Xie Yan, looking so drained and feeble, and completely lost interest.
“You’re already wrung dry by me—better focus on building yourself back up.”
Xie Yan clung to him silently, nearly falling asleep with his face pressed against Lu Yang’s back.
After dozing a bit, he jerked awake and stubbornly insisted, “I can satisfy you.”
Something felt off about him like this. Lu Yang just smiled and decided that today, for sure, he was going to stop by the study and ask what was going on.
Once he’d finished kneading a batch of dough, Lu Yang stopped working, washed up, ate, and set out early.
Xie Yan was in no shape to come along, so Lu Yang left him at home. To Xie Yan, it felt like the end of the world.
Before leaving, Lu Yang took Xie Yan’s hand and kissed his cheek, gently coaxing, “Be good, go lie down and get some more sleep. I’ll be home by dusk.”
He understood Xie Yan’s unease and added with a laugh, “I’m your husband. With the way we are, where do you think I’m going to run off to?”
Xie Yan muttered, half regretful, “I shouldn’t have had that chicken soup last night.”
Lu Yang burst out laughing. “I liked it just fine.”
People always said it was about serving your man. But in this house? It was his man serving him.
A little unusual, sure—but he really did like it.
Before he married, he’d always heard village gossip: serve your man, serve your man. He’d never been willing to accept it. But he hadn’t had much experience, so he hadn’t thought much about it either. Since marrying Xie Yan, though he seemed strong and forceful, once they were behind closed doors, he was really no different from others. If anything, Xie Yan was even more considerate, always going at the pace he liked.
Last night had truly surprised him. He understood—it came from Xie Yan’s insecurity. And that insecurity made him feel even more precious.
Lu Yang had been through that phase himself. Back in the Chen family, it was the same: little by little, they’d worn him down, like taming a mule.
He didn’t want Xie Yan to end up like that—not trapped by hopes for shelter or brief security, only to fall deeper into worry, lost inside an invisible cage he could never break free of.
Lu Yang reached up, stroked Xie Yan’s face, and pinched his ear.
“Go sleep. If you miss me, shell some sunflower seeds for me.”
He reassured Xie Yan, smiling: “Nobody else shells them for me but you.”
Xie Yan laughed at that, his clinginess easing, finally willing to let Lu Yang go.
That day, Lu Yang brought Lu Lin along to town to sell buns. Lu Lin had timed it right—when he saw Lu Yang’s lantern lit in the yard, he waited a bit, then came over. From outside the yard, he witnessed the whole farewell scene.
As the two of them walked toward Silly Zhu’s house, Lu Lin glanced back—Xie Yan stood there like a stone statue, gazing longingly after his husband, following them all the way to the roadside.
Lu Lin: “…”
Then he looked at Lu Yang, feeling all kinds of complicated. “Your scholar of a husband is really something. I always thought bookish types were supposed to be lofty, detached. But him? He’s stuck to you like glue. Not at all like that big oaf at my place. I’m up at the crack of dawn, he’s still snoring away. I give him a swat and he thinks I’m scratching an itch—starts mumbling, ‘Left, right, up, down.’ I could strangle him!”
Lu Yang laughed. “It’s just the honeymoon phase. Give it a year or two—he might turn out lazier than your big oaf.”
Lu Lin meant to say something polite, but ended up laughing too.
Once they were on the donkey cart, Lu Yang cupped his hands to his mouth against the cold as they rode along and started coaching Lu Lin on how to talk to customers.
“Brother Lin, you’re sharp and good with words—I’m not worried. I just don’t want you to freeze up once we’re in town. When we get there, just treat the shop like your own home. The customers, don’t overthink it. Town folks are people too—no different from villagers. Just think of them as guests, be warm, chat them up a bit, give them a little praise here and there. Don’t be afraid of small talk. What hurts business isn’t idle chatter—it’s being too shy to open your mouth.
“I’ll be there with you in the morning. In the afternoon, depending on how many buns we have left, I’ll head out to hawk some. Silly Zhu’s been at the shop a while now—he knows what to do. Just tell him what you need. And if you’re not sure about anything, go next door to the wine shop and ask the boss. Boss Ding and I go way back—he’d be glad to help.”
Lu Lin agreed to everything, not putting on any big-brother airs, though he couldn’t resist slipping in some life advice.
His two older brothers were still busy with the harvest. They’d only just come to check on him the other day. They’d given him a good talking-to about how skilled Lu Liu was in town, telling him not to lose his temper and blow a good opportunity.
Lu Lin had mostly been working half-days lately. Even staying in the village, between his sister-in-laws and the grapevine, he knew full well what everyone said about him.
Silly Zhu had been thoroughly straightened out. Now, day after day, he worked for free from dawn till dusk, not a word of complaint, not a peep of protest. If anyone tried to stir the pot and badmouth Lu Yang to him, no one got angrier than Silly Zhu—he’d be on his feet cursing that person’s ancestors in no time.
And God forbid anyone tried to sling mud, claiming Silly Zhu had a thing for Lu Yang. That’d be the end of it—Silly Zhu would go red in the face, his legs trembling with rage, chasing that person all over the village, demanding they take it back.
His fear of Lu Yang ran straight down to the bone.
Lu Lin had always been curious about the story behind this. He leaned over and whispered, “What’s that all about?”
Lu Yang answered breezily, “Oh, I forgot to tell you—I’ve got two brothers who work as officers. They’ve gotten their buddies at the yamen to look out for my shop. The last time the officers were patrolling the streets, they stopped in for some buns. I made sure Silly Zhu met them, so if anything ever happens to me, they’ll haul him in.”
Two brothers who are officers?!
Since when did you have brothers like that?!
Lu Lin’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
Up front on the cart, Silly Zhu declared his loyalty: “I wouldn’t dare cross you!”
Lu Yang gave a cold little laugh. “But you would eavesdrop.”
Silly Zhu looked like he was about to cry.
Why wasn’t he born a donkey instead?!
They got to the shop just after dawn, slipping in through the back. Theirs was always the last place to open, which really wasn’t great for business. Miss the breakfast rush, and you’re losing serious money.
They got the shop open, lit the fire, started steaming the buns and mantou. Even yesterday’s leftovers went on to be reheated.
Lu Yang showed Lu Lin around, introducing him to everything.
Up front, they sold buns and some dishes. On the counter were sunflower seeds, peanuts, and red dates.
Lu Yang had grabbed extra peanuts and sunflower seeds, asking his brothers Lu Song and Lu Bai to sell some while collecting produce around the village. He’d even sweet-talked a vendor into giving him a batch of wild walnuts to sell.
Prices were set at the usual rates—easy to remember.
For now, that was all they had. As long as Lu Lin remembered the prices, all that was left was greeting customers.
Lu Lin was a little shy at first, sticking close to Lu Yang as he chatted with customers. But he quickly realized it wasn’t so hard—most people knew what they wanted, bought it, and left.
Lu Yang, though? He didn’t care if people were friendly or not—he kept smiling and talking, always slipping in what else they sold, turning every conversation into a bit of advertising.
Lu Lin rubbed his face. So this is what it takes to make money—you’ve gotta be shameless.
They made do with a simple lunch at the shop. By afternoon, Lu Yang had packed forty buns to hawk on the street.
But he’d changed up his sales pitch—he wasn’t shouting about “thin-skinned, big-filling meat buns” anymore!
The moment he stepped out, he started calling: “Hot buns for sale! The owner paid a hundred taels to learn this craft! A secret recipe from an imperial chef! A master from the capital taught him personally! Eat one of these buns, and you’ll feel just like a noble from the capital!”
Lu Lin, watching him leave: What the…?!
Even Boss Ding next door had been about to rib Lu Yang about hiring help. But the moment he heard that pitch, he choked on his own words. This scholar’s husband really dares to say anything!
People on the street all turned to look as Lu Yang kept shouting: “Hot buns! Big, juicy meat buns, only five copper each! The owner paid a hundred taels to learn the craft! These buns sell for seven copper each in the capital, but here you can get them for five! A secret imperial recipe—delicious braised meat buns, only five copper!”
Ordinary buns? People could buy those anywhere.
But buns made with a hundred-tael craft, from an imperial chef’s secret recipe, that sold for seven copper in the capital? Now that made folks curious to try one.
Before he’d even gotten off that street, Lu Yang had sold twenty-three buns.
He nodded to himself, very pleased. He hustled back to the shop, grabbed thirty more buns, told Silly Zhu to watch the place, asked Lu Lin to start making more buns to steam, and tore off again. Once he rounded the corner onto a different street, he started hawking all over again.
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