After seeing his younger brother and brother-in-law today, Xie Yan had ended up caught in the middle and took some flak. Once it was over, he quietly excused himself and went to the front of the shop. Lu Yang had come home early, and now the two of them finally had time to talk properly.
Xie Yan didn’t mind. “They’re just kids.”
And just by saying that, he’d already won.
Lu Yang chuckled. The two of them headed inside, blew out the lantern, and sat down at the table to eat.
In the kitchen, Zhao Peilan had talked Lu Yang’s ear off, pouring out thoughts she’d been holding in for a long time. After letting it all out, she seemed visibly more at ease. During dinner, she asked Xie Yan why he’d come home late. When she heard it was because he planned to take Lu Yang to see a doctor, she got anxious all over again. After the meal, she once again stuffed her pair of gold-and-jade earrings into Lu Yang’s hands, insisting he keep them no matter what.
“Seeing a doctor costs money. But they say for a lot of illnesses, the sooner you treat it, the better. Spend a little now, and you might save a whole lot later.” You might even save a life.
Lu Yang tried to refuse, but couldn’t, so he accepted the earrings.
He gave her the same explanation as before. “Mom, it’s nothing serious. I’ve just been getting up early, going out in the wind—it’s given me a bit of a headache, that’s all.”
But a minor issue, if dragged out, could become something serious. Zhao Peilan told Xie Yan, “Make sure you go with him and ask the doctor plenty of questions.”
Some doctors had an ego, especially when dealing with patients who couldn’t read. They’d just take a pulse, write up a prescription, and be done. Once the diagnosis was written, they’d already earned their consultation fee. Whether or not the medicine got picked up, or if the patient continued treatment—that was someone else’s problem.
But Xie Yan could read. If he asked questions, the doctor would be more likely to explain.
Xie Yan nodded. “Don’t worry. I already told him—we’re going first thing tomorrow.”
Lu Yang had wanted to put it off, maybe wait until after the New Year when things calmed down and they moved to the county town. But now that the plan was set, tomorrow it would be.
That night, after washing up and soaking their feet, they climbed into bed. Lu Yang was hoping for a quiet, affectionate moment to talk with Xie Yan, maybe chat about random things.
But like he’d said to his brother earlier, long nights could get dull. The two of them lay there in bed, cuddled under the blanket. Just talking started to feel boring. You had to do something to pass the time.
Lu Yang toyed with the idea of getting physical, but decided to act sentimental first. In the end, he used the excuse of wanting to learn to read and asked Xie Yan to recite something to him.
If nothing else, he could always mess with his scholar.
Xie Yan had books memorized, especially the elementary stuff. He didn’t even need to get one—he could recite them from memory, line by line, explaining the meaning as he went. Lu Yang would listen at night, then practice writing during the day. Once the lines became familiar, they’d match characters to the words. After that, they’d break down sentences, learning to recognize each character. That was about the gist of it.
Unfortunately, Lu Yang had no interest in textbooks.
He only liked the inappropriate stuff.
He called out, “Top Scholar.”
Xie Yan responded, “Mm?”
Lu Yang laughed, “Heh. And you say you don’t like it. Look at you—you answered when I called you ‘Top Scholar.’”
Xie Yan: “…”
Lu Yang reached out and hovered his hand over him, ready to tickle at any second.
“You answered—now you’ve gotta live up to it and become a top scholar, don’t you think?”
Suddenly, the idea of becoming an actual scholar sounded kind of fun to Xie Yan. Maybe he should take the imperial exam and earn a real title—none of that fake “star student” nonsense.
Lu Yang gave him a nudge. “Photographic memory, right? Recite a few lines for me.”
Xie Yan blushed and mumbled, “This insults the sanctity of literature…”
He’d recently discovered that the harder you tried not to remember something, the more it stuck. Truly mysterious.
Lu Yang gave him a new nickname. “From now on, I’m calling you ‘Gentleman.’”
Xie Yan panicked. “What?!”
Lu Yang made a pitiful face. “Wow, you’re so surprised. You really think a brilliant scholar like you has nothing in common with an illiterate little husband like me, huh?”
Of course that wasn’t true. Normally Lu Yang was so confident—seeing him look all pitiful and heartbroken caught Xie Yan completely off guard. He quickly tried to comfort him, “Okay, okay! I’ll go by ‘Gentleman.’ You can call me whatever you want.”
Lu Yang kept up the act. “You sound so annoyed. ‘Whatever I want’? Sure, you say that now. But I’m the one doing all the talking while you just shut your ears and ignore me, right?”
Xie Yan rolled around under the blanket, then flipped the covers to show his ears. “See? Not shut. I hear everything you say.”
Lu Yang smirked. “Even when I’m moaning in bed?”
Xie Yan choked, his body burning hotter than the bed itself.
Lu Yang gave him a push. “You’re gonna roast me at this rate.”
Xie Yan silently shifted a bit farther away.
Lu Yang caught his hand again. “Wow… look at you, just tossing me aside.”
Xie Yan immediately pulled him back and hugged him tight.
Lu Yang couldn’t stop laughing and told him, “Marriage is such a terrible idea.”
Xie Yan panicked. Again.
Lu Yang added, “Marrying you was the best part.”
Xie Yan felt completely content.
After such emotional highs and lows, he honestly felt like he had no more desires left in this world.
Then Lu Yang said, “If you’d be willing to teach me how to read, and recite books to me, that’d be even better.”
Xie Yan hesitated, a little weakly. “Yang-ge, learning to read usually starts with proper primers…”
Lu Yang kissed him. “We’re husbands, married fair and square. With a relationship like ours, do we really need some proper little primer?”
Xie Yan: “…”
Fine. So much for being refined.
The night was long, and tonight… literature was thoroughly disrespected.
After visiting his younger brother, Lu Yang kept his promise and went to see the doctor.
He had a deep-seated dread of clinics. That morning at the shop, he hurried to prepare the steamed buns and managed to deliver ten to the wine shop next door.
Boss Ding always bought them in sets of ten. Lu Yang had promised buns for the workers, and ten was the bare minimum. Any less and people wouldn’t be full, someone would have to pitch in extra money, or worse, feel slighted—meaning there’d be no “next time.”
These past few days, some buns were eaten, others given away, so the profit margin wasn’t much.
Lu Yang did the math with Xie Yan. Since they made everything themselves, they weren’t counting profit. This batch probably cost around 110 wen total.
Xie Yan didn’t bother tracking that kind of expense. They were blood brothers who looked exactly alike—feeding him a few buns was no big deal.
Besides, giving to Boss Ding wasn’t a loss either. It was mutually beneficial. No need to split hairs over a few coins.
“You done?” Xie Yan asked. “Looks like you’re still busy. Why don’t we head to the clinic now? The sooner we go, the sooner we’ll be back.”
Lu Yang sighed internally.
Yeah, it had to be done eventually. He’d already agreed. Putting it off again would only make Xie Yan realize he was scared.
He washed up, gave instructions to Lu Lin about the buns steaming in the back, told him to keep an eye on the fire, and once they were done, to bring them out front to sell.
“I’m going with A-Yan to the clinic,” Lu Yang told him. “We also want to ask about some prices on mountain goods, so we might not be back till noon.”
Noon wasn’t far off anyway. Lu Lin looked up at the sky and nodded.
Lu Yang wanted to go to a clinic a bit farther away. If it was too close, and someone got curious and asked around, it’d just be annoying.
Xie Yan didn’t mind—so long as he saw a doctor, which clinic they went to didn’t matter.
On the way, they passed a dry goods shop. Lu Yang instinctively veered toward it to ask about prices, but Xie Yan half-pulled, half-dragged him away, taking him straight to the clinic.
“Hua Tuo Medical Hall,” Xie Yan read the name on the signboard.
Lu Yang snorted, “Big talk. Let’s see if it’s a big-time quack.”
Still, once they stepped inside, Lu Yang quieted down and behaved.
Most clinics in the county had the same layout. Right past the entrance was the front counter, where several assistants were busy reading prescriptions and gathering herbs. Behind the counter, rows of small wooden drawers lined the wall, each labeled and organized neatly with different herbs.
To the east and west sides of the main hall sat the consulting areas. Usually only one doctor was in at a time—one day they’d use the east side, the next day the west. If patient volume got high, both sides would open.
It was winter, and many people had cold-related illnesses, so today both wings were open.
Living in the county for a while, Lu Yang had learned a few things. That morning he’d brought cotton cloths with him. While waiting in line, he handed one to Xie Yan and kept one for himself, both of them covering their mouths and noses.
Xie Yan was familiar with medical halls too. There was a time he’d come regularly to pick up medicine.
The memories were too vivid. The moment he stepped in front of the clinic, his words grew fewer. Following Lu Yang’s advice, he covered his nose and mouth with the cloth, and kept his other hand tightly wrapped around Lu Yang’s.
Maybe it was the silence that made him uneasy, because he suddenly spoke up, “Don’t be scared. I’ve drunk that stuff before—if you’re asking about taste, yeah, it’s bitter. When the time comes, just pinch your nose, gulp it all down in one go, and rinse your mouth right after. Then drink something sweet. Candied fruit doesn’t help—it’s still sour and sweet on the surface, but the bitterness clings underneath.”
