The bamboo shoots were fresh and crisp, and after simmering all night they turned tender with a pleasant bite, light and refreshing. The wild mushrooms added later were even more fragrant than the meat. Because Xie Yan’s knife skills still weren’t great, every slice came out thick and hefty. After soaking up the broth, each piece tasted silky, juicy, and deeply savory, pairing perfectly with the firm duck meat.
He had saved the duck blood ahead of time. In the morning, he seasoned it, added it into the pot, and after a short simmer it firmed up to a smooth, tender texture.
Lately Lu Yang had been feeling better, so when he got up early, Lu Yang rose with him and hurried to steam the buns and mantou.
Hearing him describe every flavor as “tender, tender, tender,” Lu Yang teased, “My little future top scholar is also tender.”
The tender little scholar blushed with a youthful smile—indeed, very tender.
He replied, “My husband is tender too.”
Xie Yan added one more thing to the list of supplies he needed from the grocer: “We should buy a few small porcelain bowls. You can see the color of the broth in porcelain—it’ll make you enjoy it even more.”
Lu Yang had never used porcelain bowls before, so he simply said yes.
Once again, he thought to himself that having money really was wonderful. He could make tiny plans for every little thing, and each one could actually come true. No more worrying about silver every time he wanted to improve something. No more fretting over how to make ends meet.
Each person got a bowl of duck soup—just the broth—and they ate the meat, duck blood, bamboo shoots, and mushrooms on the side, without adding noodles or vermicelli. Xie Yan made this soup for nourishment for the whole family, not just to satisfy cravings, so there was no need to put in any staple foods. Eating it as-is was best.
The breakfast table was full of praise. Lu Yang told him he was smart, talented, and gifted in the kitchen.
“With a mind like yours, you pick things up fast. Becoming a master chef is just a matter of time.”
Zhao Peilan was amazed. “A-Yan, your cooking is getting better and better.”
Xie Yan lifted his chin proudly. “Of course. Once I practice my knife work a bit more, I could open a stall and no one would even guess I’m a beginner.”
After breakfast they opened shop. The two of them removed the wooden panels, set up the ladder, and hung the shop banner.
The duck soup had been cooked from a whole bird with lots of add-ins, so the three of them hadn’t finished it that morning. Since Lu Yang needed to sell bamboo shoots and mushrooms, he brought the pot to the front, moved the small stove from the back kitchen, and let the soup continue to simmer by the doorway. The aroma drifted down the street, tempting passersby and making them glance over.
He called out a few lines praising the soup’s flavor, repeating all the “tender” descriptions Xie Yan had used earlier. Quite a few customers were drawn in to buy bamboo shoots and mushrooms. Duck soup, however—there was none for sale. Xie Yan had bought the ingredients himself at the market.
When asked how to make the soup, Xie Yan explained the steps in detail.
Customers looked at him, then at Lu Yang, their eyes drifting curiously between the two.
Xie Yan frowned. “Why are you all staring at my husband?”
Oh. So he really was a young man, not a little “house-husband.” Then why was he so skilled at making stew?
They wanted to ask, and Xie Yan answered smugly, “I learned it on purpose—to nourish my husband. Smell it—isn’t it good? He loves it!”
People nearby burst into laughter. Looking at Lu Yang—thin as he was, but bright-eyed and full of life—they could tell he was well cared for. They all said he had good fortune.
Thus, the morning business opened with cheerful chatter.
Lu Yang recently made a new set of fancy mantou called “Fortune Come, Treasure Arrive”—two per set, one shaped like a gold ingot and the other like a copper coin. Same price as usual.
He hadn’t reprinted the Examination Handbook yet, so with some free time, he gave Old Master Lu some designs and had him carve new molds. With molds, making decorative mantou was much easier. The special shape made them distinctive, and with no price increase, customers could buy either shape individually—gold-ingot mantou or copper-coin mantou, whichever they preferred.
Sales of big meat buns stayed steady at about thirty a day. Small meat buns sold even better—more than two hundred daily.
After opening the shop, Lu Yang still needed to prepare more buns.
Once the rush eased, Lu Lin and Zhang Tie arrived to take over the work and mind the shop so that Lu Yang and the others could tidy up and go sweep the graves.
Lu Yang pulled Lu Lin aside and asked about the situation back in the village.
“Are people still angry? Anyone talking about revenge? Anyone making trouble?”
Lu Lin shook his head. “No idea what they’re like at home, but outside they’re all like wilted chickens. Even when they get into an argument, they don’t dare raise their voices. They were scared half to death.”
They were just villagers, not hardened thugs. Once you get dragged into a lawsuit and thrown in jail, your whole family empties its savings and still can’t scrape together enough to grease official palms. The fields still have to be worked, and with everything on their plates, they can’t lift their heads in front of the neighbors. Who has the energy to start trouble again?
Lu Lin had another matter to report: “My father-in-law was elected village head. Last night he pulled Tie-ge aside and agreed to let us split from the family, but he wants us to ask you: during the busy farming season, can he go home to help with the work? Without him, the fields your family tends together will be too much for them.”
Lu Yang nodded. “That’s fine. Farm season is farm season—he can go back.”
When he asked about the terms of the split, Lu Lin couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. He explained, “Since we’re working in the county, we can’t farm anyway. We only get three mu of land. Normally we all work the fields together, but since Tie-ge will go home to help during busy seasons, that counts toward our share. Father-in-law said the family will put up half the money for the house you’re buying, and the other half is up to us. After that, we’ll be sharing the house with Second Brother’s family. And… that’s all we’re getting.”
On paper, it was as if they hadn’t received any real property at all—little land, no house of their own.
If things didn’t work out in the county, they’d have no place to go back to.
But their wages were decent. Lu Yang paid them thirty wen a day, the going rate for county shop workers. Meals were included—family or not, Lu Yang treated everyone equally. Whatever his household ate, they ate. Good food made up for the slightly lower pay.
Together, the two earned about one tael and eight qian per month. After splitting from the main household, they’d need about three hundred wen for food each month. They ate two meals a day at the shop, so they only had to cook one meal for themselves and buy a few daily necessities.
With miscellaneous expenses added in, they could still save around fifteen taels of silver a year—better than farming.
A few years like this, and they’d be wealthier than their brothers back home.
This was exactly why their father-in-law hadn’t given them much, so no bad blood would arise among the brothers.
Lu Lin added, “If that’s the case, we actually don’t need to buy a house in the village. We hardly go back anyway—we could just squeeze in with the family.”
Lu Yang patted his hand. “Brother Lin, some things you have to give up. You and Tie-ge will be living with Second Brother’s household. Since you two aren’t home most of the time, the house is essentially theirs. It’s straightforward. When you go back, bring them something—food, supplies—whatever keeps the relationship strong.
“You’re working in the county, but you’re not cut off. The village is close. You can go home for New Year and holidays. A person can’t live letting others point at their spine. You’ll have children later—you’ll need help if they get sick or hurt. And your parents are still there—can you really leave them behind? Since Second Brother’s family will be caring for them more, they put in the effort, so you two should provide the money. Give a little, and things stay smooth. A peaceful family brings blessings. Everyone helps one another and everyone benefits.”
Lu Lin respected him, and hearing this eased his mind.
“Alright. When we go home in a few days, I’ll give Father-in-law an answer. I’ll bring the silver then and settle the house.”
Lu Yang shook his head. “No rush. You give me his half first. You two save up more this year, and pay me the rest at the end of the year.”
The couple hadn’t worked long enough to save much. If they suddenly split from the family now, they’d be left with nothing. Better to save steadily for a year and loosen their budget before settling things.
Grateful, Lu Lin agreed. “Alright. I’ve been worrying over this.”
They didn’t talk much more; Lu Yang left him to tend the shop and went to the back.
Xie Yan and Zhao Peilan had finished packing, and the carriage had arrived at the alley. They were ready to head back to the village to sweep the graves.
But fate liked crossing paths—on the main road, they ran into Old Chen and Chen’s eldest son.
Old Chen had returned to Chenjiawan only a few months ago and had already ruined his reputation. Relatives and neighbors were fed up with him. Unable to stand the shame but still eager to save face, he moved back to the county and resumed his old tricks, settling in the south end of town near the gate so relatives wouldn’t find him.
He had lost both dignity and goodwill, but ancestors still had to be honored. Even if he skipped his forefathers, he still had to honor his own parents. It was Qingming. He had deliberately delayed a few days, planning to wait until everyone finished their sweeping before sneaking back to the village to make offerings at his parents’ graves. He’d burn some paper money, then slip right back to the county without staying.
Just in time—since they were running two days late—Lu Yang muttered again that this official road really ought to be renamed.
When Old Chen spotted him, his gaze flickered.
He actually felt a strange familiarity toward Lu Yang. So many things were different now, yet that familiar feeling clung to him in an indescribable way.
Hoping to cozy up to the Xie family, he greeted them with a broad, eager smile.
It was Xie Yan’s first time seeing anyone from the Chen clan. He glanced over—both father and son were short. The old man’s face was all smiles, looking kind enough, but the eyes were sharp; every sentence came with eight rounds of scrutiny.
The younger one looked slow and stubborn, the kind of strong-headed simpleton that was hardest to reason with.
Xie Yan’s displeasure grew as he caught Old Chen staring at Lu Yang.
“You’re his uncle. Why are you staring at a younger junior like that?”
Old Chen had an explanation ready.
“My adopted boy is his blood brother—they look so alike. Seeing him reminds me of that child. You wouldn’t know, but last winter, that little one of mine also married out. Haven’t seen him in a while…I really do miss him.”
During the county exam period, Miao Qing had eaten at the Chen family’s tofu shop for several days and forced the topic of adoption into the open. After stewing over it for a while, Old Chen realized he couldn’t hide it anymore and admitted openly that Lu Yang had been adopted.
Hearing him speak now only deepened Xie Yan’s frown.
They raised Lu Yang into a bundle of illnesses, worked him until exhaustion was second nature—and this man still had the nerve to talk about “missing” him.
Xie Yan’s voice went cold.
“You miss him all you want, but don’t stare at my husband.”
Old Chen leaned in with that same oily smile.
“We’re all relatives…”
Xie Yan had no desire for that kind of kinship.
“Relatives come in degrees. Near and far, close and distant. Don’t try to get familiar with us.”
He snapped the reins and urged the horse forward. A horse outran a mule easily; in no time, the Chen father and son were left behind.
Xie Yan had a good memory. Suddenly, he recalled that he’d seen them before.
Back in winter—freezing weather—they’d gone to town to sell buns. Lu Yang had suddenly curled up, stripped down, and tried to hide under his clothes. Lu Lin had kept urging him to get up so he wouldn’t catch cold.
That day, they’d run into Old Chen, and that fool Zhapillar had even cursed the man out.
He should’ve asked more questions back then.
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.
Lu Yang, amused, reached over and poked his cheek.
“What are you mad about?”
Xie Yan said, “I feel like you’re afraid of him.”
Lu Yang went quiet. It was true.
He’d grown up under Old Chen’s thumb—no need to revisit the details—and the weight of “gratitude” hung over everything. Too many things had been impossible to handle back then.
But thinking again…he wasn’t afraid anymore.
He had a home now. He didn’t fear hunger or hardship. He had savings. A husband who loved him. A mother-in-law who cherished him. And skills that earned money.
Old Chen could no longer starve him, threaten to kick him out, or force him into a marriage he didn’t want.
The sky had opened wide for him.
Lu Yang told him, “I’m not scared of the man. I’m scared of filial duty.”
“Filial duty.”
Xie Yan lowered his gaze, then said after a moment, “Don’t worry. The world isn’t that strict. They say: ‘At home obey your father, once married obey your husband.’ If I don’t let you associate with him, he can’t get past me.”
Lu Yang adored this clumsy, domineering tone of his.
“If you step in like that, it’ll only make things harder. How can a scholar be accused of being unfilial?”
Xie Yan said, “There’ll be a solution.”
Then added, “You don’t have to bother with Brother Liu either. What’s Li Feng there for?”
It actually made perfect sense.
Lu Yang decided to trust him this once.
With Old Chen, nothing would fall apart. The man cared only about profit—at worst they’d let him lose a little silver. Good practice for their future top scholar.
As for his little brother, he couldn’t help worrying just a bit. When they saw Li Feng, he’d have a proper talk.
The village of Shangxi was close. Before long, they arrived.
No need to go home first; they headed straight for the burial grounds.
Shangxi Village was a mixed-surname settlement with no true ancestral graves. The graveyard naturally split into clusters—families of the same surname buried together—barely passing as ancestral plots.
Xie Yan’s father had been a scholar and had worked hard to educate his son. He truly wanted to lift the family into a better class. He’d begun buying land, hoping to slowly transition their household from farmers to a respectable, learned family. Future children would rely on rents, study diligently, and perhaps one day succeed.
But his plans had barely begun when he passed. Now his coffin lay among the mounds of the Xie family plots.
Lu Yang looked around and felt the place wasn’t ideal. They still needed to buy land someday and build an estate. Then moving the graves would be easy.
They brought shovels. Xie Yan went to clear weeds on the mound. Lu Yang and his mother cleaned the area in front, setting up incense, candles, offerings, and burning paper money.
Someone had dug drainage ditches nearby. After clearing the mound, Xie Yan went to dig some soil from the ditch to add on top, preventing rain from washing the earth away and exposing the coffin below.
He’d even brought a copy of the Imperial Examination Answer Manual to burn, for his father to “have a look.”
The mourning period was over; they were doing well again.
He and Lu Yang bowed together.
“Father, you can rest easy now. We’ll take good care of Mother.”
—
The Li Tribe
During Qingming, they climbed the mountain to honor their dead.
Lu Liu woke early, prepared fruits for offerings, and carried a jar of wine. He and Li Feng joined the long line of villagers heading into the mountains.
It was Lu Liu’s first time. Li Feng had already explained that Qingming here meant honoring the departed whose remains rested in the mountains. They didn’t go deep—just to the communal grave marked by a large wooden stele carved with names.
They lit incense there and left the fruits.
Families who could afford it left wine as well.
Not everyone in the tribe was wealthy. As evening fell, someone would come gather the fruit—another form of mutual aid.
Lu Liu had also heard that some families trekked deep into the mountains to find individual graves, journeys that took days—truly arduous.
But Li Feng’s family didn’t need that. Further down the mountain, past the village, lay a patch of burial mounds—his father rested there.
Chen Guizhi had already prepared incense and paper money. When the boys returned, she picked up the wine and dishes so they could go pay respects.
A light rain fell—typical Qingming drizzle.
The mountain paths grew muddy and slick.
Walking along, Li Feng kept a firm hold on Lu Liu’s hand, worried he’d slip.
Li Feng had planted two jujube trees by his father’s grave. They’d never borne fruit, but the leaves came back each year. In summer, at least they cast a little shade.
When they arrived, Er Tian and Wang Dongmei were already there.
When it came to honoring his father, Er Tian was dependable.
He had brought a shovel and cleared the weeds, then shaved the grass off the mound and began adding fresh soil.
By the time their mother and eldest brother’s family arrived, he was already halfway done.
Li Feng picked up a shovel to help.
When everyone was finally gathered, Chen Guizhi lit the incense and candles.
This year had brought much good news, and she recounted it all—but first she poured half a jar of wine over the grave for her late husband to enjoy.
The ground was wet. They’d brought woven mats so their knees wouldn’t get soaked.
Lu Liu knelt with little Shun in front of the grave, lit a firestick, and used it to ignite the candles, then the incense, then the paper money.
Wang Dongmei watched a moment, then came over to kneel beside Shun.
The offerings they brought were about the same—dishes and wine.
When Li Feng and Er Tian finished their work, Lu Liu and Shun could finally rise and step aside.
