Lu Liu had his own way of cooking.
Growing up poor, he never wasted seasonings, but food had to taste good. Ever since he learned how to cook, he had carefully rationed every bit of spice, measuring with precision. Over the years, he had mastered the balance—too much made dishes greasy or salty, too little left them bland. Some ingredients needed stronger seasoning to mask their natural odors. Whatever he made was always just right.
He sliced the tofu into half-finger-thick pieces.
Cracking an egg, he coated the tofu evenly in the mixture before heating oil in the pan and slowly frying them over low heat.
Li Feng had a big appetite, but there was only one block of tofu. To make the meal more filling, Lu Liu also chopped up half a head of cabbage. Once the tofu was done, he stir-fried the cabbage until soft, then added the tofu back in, poured in water and thick soybean paste, and let it all simmer. He also chopped some scallions for garnish.
By the time Li Feng returned, Lu Liu had mixed the tofu and cabbage together, ladled it into a wide soup bowl, and sprinkled scallions over the top. The dish smelled and looked incredible.
They were having leftover rice from lunch—there had been too much earlier, and it couldn’t go to waste.
Dog food couldn’t always be mixed with offal, so they simply added another scoop of human food for Erhuang.
Li Feng had told him before: “No need to cook special meals for Erhuang every time. Just give him an extra treat now and then.”
With the meal ready, Lu Liu set everything on the table just as Li Feng finished washing his hands.
Tonight, Li Feng had brought back some freshly made rice cakes. They carried a strong, rich fragrance of rice.
Lu Liu sniffed the air and suddenly lost interest in rice—he wanted rice cakes instead.
Li Feng had spent the afternoon pounding rice cakes and had gotten an earful from his mother again. But after that satisfying fish soup at lunch, he was in a great mood when he got home and saw Lu Liu.
He placed an iron mesh rack over the stove and started toasting two pieces of rice cake.
“Wait a bit, they’ll be ready soon,” he said.
Lu Liu nodded enthusiastically.
Li Feng added, “I’ll dip them in brown sugar for you.”
Lu Liu was practically drooling.
Eating like this felt like tempting fate—as if even the heavens might get jealous.
Pressing his lips together, he said, “I don’t need the sugar. I like rice cakes as they are.”
Li Feng was already devouring his meal.
Pounding rice cakes was exhausting—it was all physical labor, and he was starving.
Watching him eat so quickly, Lu Liu momentarily forgot that rice cakes could be snacked on during the process. Instead, he suggested, “Tomorrow, I’ll make you extra egg pancakes to take with you.”
Li Feng thought for a moment and nodded. “Good idea.”
His mother wouldn’t let him go hungry while working under her watch, but if Lu Liu packed food for him, she’d see that Lu Liu was serious about their life together.
The tofu dish was exceptionally good.
The tofu had soaked up the rich sauce, making each bite perfectly savory—not too salty, not too greasy. Even after eating a lot, it didn’t feel overwhelming.
The cabbage was just as delicious, its leaves coated in sauce, bursting with flavor. The aftertaste lingered pleasantly.
Ever since his younger brother got married, Li Feng had moved back to the old family house in their previous village. His mother couldn’t visit every day, so when he ate alone, he usually made do with whatever was easiest.
But today—just newly married—he was eating like a king. He was beyond satisfied.
Seeing how much he enjoyed the food, Lu Liu was delighted. Tofu wasn’t expensive, and Old Man Chen made it fresh. In winter, tofu stored well. When they visited his family, he could ask Old Man Chen for some.
Cabbage was growing in their field, and they already had the thick soybean paste. Cooking large portions of this dish wouldn’t cost much at all.
Just thinking about it made him happy—he really was a frugal, hardworking homemaker!
Li Feng flipped the rice cakes, revealing their golden-brown surface. The sweet aroma thickened in the air.
Seeing Lu Liu smiling to himself, he asked, “What are you thinking about?”
Lu Liu answered, “I was just thinking, since you like tofu, and my dad makes tofu, I’ll get some when we visit.”
“Get some?”
Li Feng looked up. “Can we take it?”
Lu Liu thought about it.
“Of course. We’re family—what’s a few pieces of tofu?”
Old Man Chen had even encouraged him to take things from the Li family home—taking two blocks of tofu from his own father first would show some fairness.
Li Feng looked forward to it.
The rice cakes were ready.
Li Feng brought over the nearly empty sugar jar for Lu Liu.
Seeing how little was left, Lu Liu felt too guilty to take any.
Li Feng urged him to eat, so Lu Liu tore both pieces of rice cake in half, letting the granules of brown sugar scatter evenly over the soft, sticky center.
He handed one to Li Feng and kept one for himself.
Biting into the crisp outer layer, he found the steaming, tender glutinous rice inside. The texture was chewy and slightly sticky, the melted sugar adding a sweet, grainy contrast that lingered on his tongue.
Lu Liu squinted happily and said, “I only get to eat brown sugar rice cakes during New Year’s.”
It was a tradition on New Year’s Eve—his family would sit around the fire, roasting rice cakes. He would carefully sprinkle the last bit of sugar from their jar over them, just like he was doing now.
Li Feng wasn’t someone who always ate well, especially since he started living alone.
They ate their meal, taking breaks to enjoy the sweet treat, washing it down with water before continuing their dinner.
People say food is the most important thing in life, and that was true. With his stomach full and warm, Li Feng’s usual tough and fierce expression softened. He looked kinder, easier to talk to.
After dinner, it was time to wash up and go to bed.
Tonight, Lu Liu fetched water himself. He planned to do as he had the night before—using a ladle to wet a cloth and wipe his face.
But Li Feng told him to go inside and use a washbasin.
A washbasin? They didn’t have one.
Puzzled but obedient, Lu Liu went inside—and sure enough, there was a wooden washbasin, only slightly bigger than a soup pot, but perfectly fine for washing his face.
He had no idea when Li Feng had brought it home.
Hugging the basin, he completely forgot about washing up. Instead, he followed Li Feng around the house—checking on Erhuang in the backyard, closing the front gate, fetching water from the well.
Li Feng didn’t understand why he was so excited. “It’s just a basin. What’s the big deal?”
Lu Liu grinned. “You don’t need a washbasin, but I do. You got one for me because you want me to be comfortable here. That means you care about me, and that makes me happy.”
Li Feng wasn’t prepared for such honest praise—or the sudden attack of sweet words. His lips twitched into an involuntary smile.
“Well, if I got you two basins, how happy would you be?” he teased.
Lu Liu blinked. “But I don’t have two faces.”
Was the second one for washing… his butt?
Silly.
Li Feng took him along to wash up.
For the first time ever, this rough man was coaxed by his husband into using a washbasin.
In hindsight, he should’ve bought a bigger one. This small thing barely fit his hands, and in the end, Lu Liu had to wring out the cloth and wipe his face for him.
He really had bought two basins—because Lu Liu was small, and using a bucket to soak his feet was inconvenient.
Sitting on the heated brick bed, his feet couldn’t even reach the water. Sitting on a stool, the bucket was too tall, leaving his legs awkwardly suspended.
With a proper foot basin, Lu Liu insisted that Li Feng soak his feet with him.
His skin was fair all over, and his feet, hidden from sunlight, were even paler. To his surprise, Li Feng was tanned all over—not quite black, but a deep wheat color, even his feet.
His feet weren’t small, but compared to Li Feng’s, they looked much shorter.
Maybe it was because he liked how big and strong Li Feng was—he felt secure around him. And Li Feng, despite his rough exterior, had been nothing but kind.
Lu Liu feared many things, but strangely, not Li Feng.
His face reddened. This was definitely flirting—soaking feet together and all. And he just had to step on Li Feng’s foot.
If Li Feng looked at him, he’d innocently say, “I’m just serving you, washing your feet.”
A phrase he’d picked up before marriage—now his go-to excuse for everything.
But when Li Feng pinned his foot down, stopping him from moving, Lu Liu burst into uncontrollable laughter, doubling over with joy.
What was so funny?
Lu Liu didn’t say.
When they finished, Li Feng handled the used water, while Lu Liu dried his feet and dove into the warm bed.
His small body couldn’t heat the bedding much, so he curled up inside, waiting for Li Feng to lie down—then immediately latched onto his human heater.
Tonight, he made sure to avoid the wooden rod.
But when Li Feng mentioned “serving” him in bed, he suddenly remembered what he had learned that morning.
Avoiding Li Feng’s burning gaze, he fumbled under the covers, his fingers hesitantly wrapping around the solid weight that spread across his palm…
