These were all things Xie Yan had done for Lu Yang before. He knew the tastes well, and with just a few words, he could whet Master Cui’s appetite.
He asked Xie Yan, “With a mind like yours for studying, how could your husband let you spend time in the kitchen?”
Xie Yan replied, “I learned it specifically for him. He’s the type who worries constantly; even when ill, he can’t stay still. We have so few family members—if I don’t make some nourishing soups, relying only on medicine, how will he ever recover properly?”
Whenever he mentioned his husband, his expression softened, full of affection. Even without prompting, he kept talking about him.
When Master Cui boarded the carriage, Xie Yan handed over his small bundle and reminded the coachman to be careful.
Looking at the sky and feeling the cold wind outside, he felt a pang of guilt.
“I didn’t think it through—I shouldn’t have kept you up late to play chess and give advice.”
Master Cui didn’t offer sentimental words, just nodded at the old duck soup.
“Let me taste it.”
Xie Yan agreed.
The next day, he sent the houseboy to buy a duck and, borrowing the stove again, simmered a pot of old duck soup at the academy.
His roommate asked, “Why are you being so nice to that lousy chess player?”
Xie Yan said, “I call him ‘Uncle’—it’s my respect for him. He’s taught me so much.”
His roommate hesitated, then warned, “Don’t be fooled. Several seniors were tricked before. He sounds reasonable, but it’s all sophistry—useless. Haven’t you seen us avoiding him?”
Xie Yan thought everyone avoided Master Cui because of chess. He wasn’t influenced; he had judgment, especially in matters of scholarship.
After this pot of old duck soup, Xie Yan stopped keeping Master Cui up at night and spent the evenings in the study room painting.
The study tables were large, perfect for painting.
On the way there, Li Feng had told him they needed to return home early; they couldn’t wait for the academy’s winter break. Lu Liu was about to give birth.
Xie Yan had promised to paint a double portrait for them—something intimate.
Earlier, busy or annoyed, he hadn’t had the chance. Now, with a free evening, he finished the painting.
By the end of the month, Xie Yan kept his mind free, read little, focusing on organizing notes and recording thoughts, alongside academy coursework.
Once the painting was complete, he mounted it and was ready to request leave from the instructors.
As the year-end approached, students returned home, most leaving before the minor New Year holiday. Xie Yan’s departure went unnoticed.
Before leaving, he borrowed the stove and pot again to cook pig trotters and sauce, which he delivered to Master Cui as a New Year gift.
Once done, he just waited for Li Feng to come fetch him.
Meanwhile, Li Feng, after drinking with Hong Lao Wu, met Old Master Wu at the dock, showing him the shopfront he intended to rent.
Old Master Wu didn’t say much, but later subtly reminded Li Feng that the Hong family didn’t rely on sentiment—they shouldn’t be deceived by a few heroic words. Li Feng took note.
The shop rental would be for next year; he intended to act cautiously.
Old Master Wu had finished auditing accounts and, with no more official obligations this year, could return to Sanshui County.
He left the city with Wang Meng and the others. Li Feng bought a few holiday gifts and, with Erjun and Si Hou, visited Denggao Tower, Ding Family’s knife shop, and two dry-goods stores.
At Denggao Tower, three gifts were left with Boss Yu to be handed over after meeting two traveling merchants who had placed orders.
Their first order in the prefectural city had been secured by five merchants led by Boss Yu—an introduction by Young Master Wu that they wouldn’t forget.
By the time they finished these errands and returned to the academy, it was already noon.
Xie Yan had packed and was ready. Li Feng asked the gatekeeper to send a message, and Xie Yan, with the houseboy, carried his satchel outside.
They were leaving the city that day, needing to travel far enough to reach a village to rest by evening.
On the road out of the city, they didn’t speak much. Once outside the gates, they met up with their brothers. Xie Yan counted six horses.
He noticed all the riders were men from Li Village, and seeing Li Feng mount as well, he felt they were overly extravagant.
“Aren’t you celebrating the New Year?”
His remark set off a round of laughter. Even without Li Feng boasting, his brothers eagerly shared tales of their exploits.
Xie Yan stared, then looked longingly at the horses.
He even suggested buying three more. Li Feng refused to spend, yet they already had six horses.
The afternoon ride was tight; Xie Yan rode in the carriage, staying quiet.
When they rested in a village, he called Li Feng over to speak.
Li Feng, scratching his ear, couldn’t hide his pride. “Go ahead—how do you plan to threaten me this time?”
Xie Yan: …
Old tricks felt stale, just like his writing—commonplace.
He unfolded half the painting for Li Feng to see.
It depicted Li Feng and Lu Liu intimately—Lu Liu linking arms with Li Feng, one looking up, the other down, gazing at each other.
Even without seeing the whole piece, Li Feng’s heart stirred, and he reached out to grab it.
Xie Yan said, “If you tear it, it’s gone.”
Li Feng withdrew.
“What’s this? Calling me ‘brother’?”
He added, “Being each other’s big brother? What’s the point? Just admit it.”
Xie Yan didn’t argue. “I’m already your husband.”
He pointed to the nearby horses. “I want to ride.”
Li Feng: …
After a pause, Li Feng agreed.
Xie Yan was delighted. The painting was meant as a gift anyway—getting this advantage for free felt worth it.
By early December, snow began to fall.
Wrapped in his cotton coat and a large cloak, Xie Yan rode off toward home.
Li Feng, driving the mule cart behind, felt something was off. He called Wang Meng.
“Da Meng, you get down, let me ride the horse!”
Wang Meng refused. “We said: win it by skill! If you can’t hold it, that’s your problem, not mine.”
“Who can’t hold it? Say that again!”
Li Feng scowled, bickering all the way.
The return trip was free of bandits. Only the brothers bickered, punctuated by Xie Yan’s occasional wild laughter.
The first snow of the year fell, drifting all day.
Few travelers came; most families stayed home for the winter.
Lu Yang enjoyed rare leisure—sleeping late, napping during the day. After several days, he was fully rested and in good spirits.
Lu Liu, meanwhile, felt increasingly heavy. Her belly was swollen and tight, with frequent abdominal pain, and she needed to use the latrine more often.
Physician Hu descended the mountain to examine her pulse, saying childbirth was imminent—sooner than the calculated date.
Everything at home was ready. Chen Guizhi had Shun go out to confirm the auspicious day with the midwife.
Several experienced midwives lived in the village, but for Lu Liu, it was her first birth, and her husband’s first child. Chen Guizhi specifically hired an old uncle skilled in delivering children for husbands.
She also purchased a length of plain cloth, a new pair of scissors, and three new wooden basins.
Lu Yang remembered when Lu Sanfeng delivered Chen’s youngest child—he was too young then to recall details.
Avoiding Lu Liu, he asked Chen Guizhi what each item was for.
The basins were obvious; the scissors were for cutting the umbilical cord, and the cloth for cleaning.
Chen Guizhi said, “New and clean. I’ve seen people wrap wounds in any old cloth—it only causes infection.”
Seeing the room still mostly unprepared, Lu Yang asked, “I heard that when Mr. Yao gave birth, he even stood briefly. That went smoothly. Will Lu Liu deliver standing?”
Chen Guizhi shook her head. “She can’t. Two children, unknown who comes first, her belly bigger than usual. She can’t stand steadily—better to lie down.”
