Li Feng asked, “How did you sleep in the county town?”
Lu Liu said, “My brother held me too, but he’s thin, not as firm as you. He made a long roll from some padded clothes, tied it up so I could hug it.”
Lu Liu had many things he wanted to say, like: “You really don’t mind me. My brother said that when you hold me from the front, I must brush my teeth carefully so my mouth smells nice. When you hold me from behind, I have to wash my hair diligently so it smells good too. Before, I didn’t wash often, and you never said anything.”
Li Feng pressed close to his neck and sniffed, making Lu Liu giggle softly. “I’ve washed, my brother helped me. I just lie there—it’s so comfortable. Da Feng, have you ever washed your hair like that? I can do yours too. But you can’t lie on my lap now; with my belly, you wouldn’t fit.”
Li Feng didn’t want to wash—just having Lu Liu touch his scalp made him itch; he wasn’t used to it.
Lu Liu sighed again. “Later, during the colder months, when washing hair is harder, if you hold me, my hair will smell oily. What then?”
Li Feng suggested, “I’ll sleep at the other end of the kang to warm your feet. You wash your feet every day—they don’t stink.”
Lu Liu immediately refused.
“You’re so much taller than me. If you sleep there, won’t your feet press into my mouth? No thanks.”
Li Feng laughed. “I’m willing to hold your feet; you just don’t want to hold mine.”
Lu Liu heard him laugh and knew he wasn’t upset. “I’m hugging you, Da Feng. Meeting you this time, I quickly got used to it. It feels like we’ve never been apart. My heart feels so close to yours.”
Li Feng felt it too—sweetness filled his chest.
Lu Liu remembered what his brother said: a man like Li Feng likes it when his husband clings, sticks close, and is affectionate—it’s irresistible.
Now in Li Feng’s arms, Lu Liu said more clingy, sweet things.
He spoke about the lantern he made, the painting he received, and explained its appearance and his thoughts.
“My brother later painted one of you looking at me. I’ve looked at it, but I still like the one where I’m looking at you. I’ve gotten used to it and like seeing you that way. You’re tall and capable—in my eyes, you’re a true hero. I’m short; if I look at you, I have to lower my head. I don’t want you to lower yours.”
Li Feng was charmed and confused by his sweetness. “If one day I can’t lower my head, it must be my neck that’s stiff,” he said.
Lu Liu laughed for a while, twisted around, and turned to face him.
This way, some space was between them, but he could still see Li Feng clearly.
The moonlight filtered through the windowpane, soft and pale, casting dim light on people and objects.
Lu Liu reached for Li Feng’s neck.
“Da Feng, I just realized you’re pretty sweet too. I really want to nibble on your neck.”
Li Feng didn’t want to playfully resist. He helped Lu Liu sit up, leaned his head over, and let him nibble.
Lu Liu hesitated, never fully biting. The nibbles left no marks, just light presses.
Li Feng encouraged, “Xiao Liu, I haven’t seen your wild side yet.”
Lu Liu had felt drawn to Li Feng’s roughness before and had even made requests. He understood immediately and pressed lightly, leaving shallow bite marks.
Li Feng’s fingers, calloused, couldn’t feel the depth precisely. By the morning, they would be gone.
Though his request wasn’t fully met, he felt no frustration. The smile on his lips was pure contentment.
His large hand rested on Lu Liu’s neck, feeling the pulse beneath.
Compared to when he first came to the household, Lu Liu’s pulse was stronger.
His little husband’s body was healthier than before.
Li Feng laid him down, adjusting him comfortably for side-sleeping.
“Xiao Liu, do you want to eat anything? I’ll buy it for you.”
Lu Liu, surprised, said, “Let’s buy mooncakes. I want flaky ones. I had small flaky pastries at the teahouse—the crumbs fall off when you bite. They were delicious. Let’s buy some for you, Mom, and Shun-ge’er too.”
Li Feng agreed and asked if there was anything else. Lu Liu had no other requests.
He added, “Starting tomorrow, I’ll make you lots of delicious food—everything you mentioned on the road. I’ll take care of you well!”
Li Feng kissed his ear. “Alright, sleep now.”
Lu Liu obediently closed his eyes.
“Good, I’m sleeping too.”
Tonight would be a sweet dream.
With one person away, the house felt noticeably quiet.
Lu Yang thought he talked a lot, but his younger brother could outtalk him easily.
As soon as the person left, the house suddenly became still, which felt strange to him.
Zhao Peilan handed him a family letter. Lu Yang glanced at it, saw it was from the God of Wealth, related to scholarship, and didn’t delay. Just back from the Wu household, he ran again to deliver the letter promptly.
The God of Wealth studied diligently, a determination they all admired. Lu Yang didn’t waste time.
Xie Yan also wrote to their mother. Lu Yang divided the letters, informed their mother, and went out.
He hurried by carriage to the Wu household to deliver the letter, then returned the carriage at the shop and walked home.
By the time he finished, it was near dinner. Mother and son cooked together.
Zhao Peilan had already read the letters and explained the contents in the kitchen.
“Ah Yan says everything is fine. That little book assistant is very considerate, taking care of daily needs. Pingzhi even got him seasonal clothing—so thoughtful. Ah Yan isn’t as meticulous. He also liked the restaurant you ordered from—good flavor, generous portions, he eats well every meal. When he first started school, teachers didn’t quiz him individually. Usually, they’d chat about learning and see if he studied seriously at home.”
Zhao Peilan laughed: “He said he’s bolder now. When teachers quiz him, he asks questions in return. He’s read so much that he has many questions, sometimes more than the teacher expects. He thinks the prefectural teachers aren’t as serious as the county teachers. Maybe the students there are better; the teachers don’t rush teaching but can still produce graduates. They aren’t as pleased with students who are diligent and inquisitive—sometimes even find it troublesome.”
Lu Yang chuckled. “That’s not good—too proud.”
Zhao Peilan agreed. “Later he wrote, he simply goes to ask whichever teacher he wants. He doesn’t pester others to avoid trouble.”
Lu Yang considered that in other matters, Xie Yan might not understand subtlety or human motives, but when it comes to learning, he can discern. He can tell when someone is willing to explain patiently or with irritation—their reasons differ.
Lu Yang asked, “Anything else?”
Zhao Peilan continued: “He mentioned the prefectural school’s library—huge, twice the size of our main hall, and more books than any study he’s been to. Excluding novels and illustrated books, even all the county bookshops combined don’t match the prefectural library.”
Lu Yang listened, thoughts stirring.
He hadn’t realized the prefectural school had so many books. For Xie Yan to still study in a private school seemed a real pity.
With the year-end approaching, he planned to ask Xie Yan more details when he returned home.
With only two people at home, meals weren’t left to chance.
With money in hand, they wanted to enjoy good food.
They made a mixed mushroom soup and fried eggs—pure omelets, salted, perfect with rice. Also a plate of stir-fried lettuce with meat.
The lettuce was sliced thin, lightly stir-fried until just tender, then a bit of water added along the edge of the pan to steam slightly, making the slices soft. Lu Yang and Zhao Peilan liked this texture.
If Xie Yan were home, he wouldn’t add water. Stir-fry until just tender, then add the cooked meat slices, season, and serve. He preferred a slightly crisp texture.
People often said meals can’t match a full table, making life harder to enjoy.
