The Chen family wanted to cling to the Xie family, but the connection was a distant one. The only reason they had any tie at all was because the Lu brothers had acknowledged the relationship first, making them in-laws by extension.
Since Old Chen hadn’t gotten any benefit out of it—and couldn’t pressure the Xie family for favors—he naturally kept his distance. If Xie Yan ever came knocking, claiming they were relatives, the Chen family would probably beat drums just to make the disassociation loud and clear.
After listening, Xie Yan mulled it over, took a sip of tea, and quietly sighed.
His earlier plan for dealing with the Chen family was too stiff, modeled after the simple methods used back in the village—ruin their reputation so no one in town would believe a word they said. That way, if the Chen family tried to cling to him again, play the pitiful card, or lecture him on filial piety, no one would buy it, and thus they couldn’t hurt anyone.
But after finishing his tea, he realized the two methods didn’t conflict at all.
They could first use Li Feng’s way to cut the matter cleanly, and then he could work behind the scenes to simmer the rest away—removing the problem at its root.
Xie Yan’s brows relaxed. He tapped the table with his fingertips and told Li Feng, “Pour me a cup of tea.”
Li Feng: “?”
“What did you say?”
Xie Yan repeated, “Pour me a cup of tea.”
Li Feng: “…”
Unbelievable—crossing the river and knocking down the bridge.
Xie Yan added, “As relatives, I’m technically your brother-in-law, so showing me respect is only proper. As your teacher—since I’m the one teaching you to read—you owe me that courtesy even more.”
Li Feng was full of regret.
Why, oh why hadn’t he gone to that old scholar’s house to study instead?
Xie Yan continued, “It’s more convenient to learn from me anyway. Whatever characters you want to learn, I’ll write them down for you. I won’t mock your hunter’s brain, and I won’t act pretentious or spout flowery nonsense. Pour me a cup of tea, and I’ll teach you a few more characters.”
Li Feng refused.
He grabbed the teapot, filled two big bowls, and downed them himself.
Xie Yan: “…”
Fine, he’d saved a ration of tea at least.
Li Feng turned around with his bowl and sat beside Wang Meng. To Lu Yang he complained, “How did you teach him? He talks so much now.”
And it was irritating.
Lu Yang laughed. “Impressive, right? He wrote a ce wen not long ago—one of those exam-style essays, question and answer. I thought it was interesting, so I kept tossing questions at him to answer aloud. It trains the tongue. What do you think?”
Li Feng was convinced.
“That’s nonsense. Does he talk like that in an actual exam?”
Lu Yang was very pleased with himself. “Well, judging by how annoyed you are—looks like it worked! Hahaha!”
Wang Meng’s eyes shifted. A thought formed.
“So this question-and-answer thing… it helps with speaking?”
Lu Yang and Li Feng immediately understood—he wanted to train Chen Jiu’s speaking skills.
Lu Yang was very interested in teaching him!
If he trained Wang Meng, Wang Meng would go home and irritate Chen Jiu more easily. When tempers flared, they could fight it out under the blankets—then act pleasant and harmonious outside the house. Especially toward his younger brother—smile, be gentle, be polite!
Lu Yang proceeded to give Wang Meng a set of mock questions.
Question one: “If someone says you’re a country bumpkin of a barnyard chicken, not as good as the county’s phoenix, how do you respond?”
Question two: “If someone tries to sow discord between you and your partner, saying you’re leeching off him—how do you handle it?”
Question three: “If someone says you’re inferior in everything and can’t get anything done, what do you say?”
Wang Meng dropped his chopsticks.
He didn’t want to ask those questions—his household cookware would all be smashed if he did.
Lu Yang caught him. “A good hunter must face the hardships of life head-on! Do you want your husband to be disliked by everyone? Do you want him to be bullied everywhere he goes? Do you want your home to be half-cold, half-hot, never knowing when the sweetness will come? If not, then these problems must be solved!”
Wang Meng: “…”
Terrifying.
He asked Lu Yang, “Then what are the answers?”
Lu Yang replied, “There’s no standard answer in life. He talks, you listen. If you think it works, let him respond that way outside. If you don’t think it works, keep refining it with him. You’re both busy during the day—just chat at night. Isn’t that part of the fun?”
Wang Meng dropped his chopsticks again.
That was… rather suggestive. He had never discussed anything like that with another couple.
He turned to peek at Xie Yan—who was lounging with a hand under his cheek, staring at his husband with sparkling eyes.
Wang Meng: “…”
People in town were wild.
These two should rename themselves Lu Fierce and Xie Fiercer.
After lunch, Li Feng didn’t stay; he had to head to Lu Family Hamlet.
Once the two were gone, it was nearly time for Xie Yan to go to class.
This clingy little thing needed an entire hour of cuddling for every fifteen minutes they were together. Half coaxing, half pulling, he dragged Lu Yang into the room for more kissing and hugging.
Lu Yang couldn’t hold back a laugh. “We just finished eating and you didn’t even rinse your mouth. What are you trying to kiss for?”
Xie Yan just missed him.
“These next few days, Li Feng will be dropping off vegetables. So I won’t come home at noon. I’ll come back at night, all right? I’ll finish my homework at midday.”
Lu Yang poked his chest. “Oh? Coming home at night? And what happens at night—do you plan on becoming top scholar or drinking chicken broth?”
Xie Yan’s ears turned red—thin-skinned when it came to that, but still able to talk.
He murmured, “Depends… whether you’d rather study, or… build up your strength.”
Wow.
Lu Yang was stunned.
“So you study your books, and I build up my strength… how exactly is that supposed to work?”
Xie Yan thought for a moment. “Then I’ll have to sacrifice propriety.”
Lu Yang burst into laughter.
“All right. Tomorrow I’ll warm the bed for you. Whether you come home or not, at least send word.”
Xie Yan happily agreed.
After seeing him off, Lu Yang finally went out to mind the shop—still feeling warm and fluttery inside.
His scholar husband was getting more and more charming—he was actually learning how to tease now. Who knew whether he’d be able to concentrate on his books once he got back to the private school?
That afternoon, vegetables went on sale. Lu Lin went out calling first, shouting through several streets.
An hour later, Zhang Tie took his turn, shouting through a few more streets.
Snake meat sold fast—there were only three portions left.
Chives sold in bulk at two coins a bunch. Most people bought two or three bunches.
One bunch made a full dish. If they could afford it, they added an egg.
If they couldn’t, plain chives were still a meal.
Cedrela sprouts sold well too, though quantities were limited.
Lately, Lu Song had also been dropping off vegetables whenever he had spare time. Zhang Tie and Lu Lin collected produce from Shangxi Village and brought it over in the mornings.
Lu Yang had said he would take eggs as well. Every household saved theirs up, layering the baskets with rice straw—better to bring fewer at a time than risk breaking them. The shop sold eggs now too.
The bamboo shoot business had stabilized—he had steady restaurant buyers. With fresh vegetables coming in, some places would also take a batch when they saw them.
Stable supply was better than buying scattered from farmers.
But because vegetable farmers had long-standing arrangements with many restaurants, Lu Yang never forced business away from them. Profit on vegetables was thin, and farmers worked hard. If a restaurant came to buy from him, that meant they didn’t have enough stock; then he’d sell. But he wouldn’t go recruiting business door-to-door—stealing someone’s livelihood was wrong.
Some of the restaurant workers had even teased him for it—saying he had no sense for business.
Lu Yang didn’t hide anything and explained it plainly. One of the big restaurant managers actually praised him for being decent and sent new business his way.
A family was having a birthday feast soon—did he take custom orders for longevity buns?
Longevity buns were about the size of plain steamed ones, molded with the character “shou.” One order started at six steamers—about a hundred twenty buns.
It was a good job. Lu Yang took it.
He’d actually picked up something new recently.
Living among common folk in the past, every visit or gift was meat, sugar, or wine—things that felt expensive.
But after chatting with Wu Pingzhi a few times, he realized that wealthier families often brought steamed buns as visiting gifts instead.
