Since he had already come to pick him up, Ji Mingzhu didn’t say anything more, only reminded Xie Yan once: “Tomorrow, you have to show me. Don’t forget!”
Xie Yan responded, looping his arm through Lu Yang’s as they walked toward the Wu family’s place.
“You’re late today. Did you see any houses you liked?”
Lu Yang loosened his arm slightly. “You’re taller than me. Holding my arm like this lifts it up, and one of my legs barely touches the ground—it’s uncomfortable to walk.”
Xie Yan let go and adjusted his hold, so they could walk hand in hand comfortably.
Lu Yang finally replied, “We didn’t look at any houses today. We haggled yesterday, so today we’re letting it rest. I just wanted to take a break.”
He hadn’t come to see houses at all—he had deliberately come out to pick him up. Xie Yan realized this, speaking sweetly as they walked, saying it was too tiring for Lu Yang to run back and forth like this, and he couldn’t help the corners of his mouth from lifting into a smile.
Lu Yang reached out and patted his stomach, which felt a little hollow.
“Hungry? Should I get you something to eat?”
The Wu family lived a little far from the school. Considering the distance, Xie Yan nodded.
He wanted a snack called donkey rolling—a soft, sticky treat coated with soybean flour.
Lu Yang raised an eyebrow. “Why do you suddenly want this? I was going to cook a simple firewood meal tonight and save you some crispy rice.”
Xie Yan said, “I saw some classmates eating it. They said it was soft. Don’t you like soft foods?”
Lu Yang didn’t particularly like soft foods. He preferred something with a bit of chew, a richer texture. He used to eat very hard foods, which upset his stomach, so after many years, when given a choice, he avoided overly hard dishes.
He glanced at Xie Yan. “Why are you suddenly thinking about this?”
Xie Yan said, “I’ve always remembered. When I cook for you, I make things soft, stewed until tender.”
Lu Yang’s heart melted a little. “Alright, then. Let’s get some donkey rolling.”
The little snack stall wasn’t far. As soon as they stepped onto the street, they heard the vendor calling out.
The couple bought a portion and ate it along the way, just enough to satisfy their cravings and fill their stomachs before returning home for dinner.
The flavor was like glutinous rice cakes, though not exactly the same.
Xie Yan found it okay and asked if Lu Yang liked it.
Lu Yang thought it was just so-so. He noticed that many snack stalls in the prefectural city were rip-offs. Eating something, he couldn’t help but wonder, how do they make money on this?
He said to Xie Yan, “I’ll make it for you another day. It’s simple. You can take it to school and share it with your classmates.”
Xie Yan refused immediately: “I won’t. You’d just tire yourself out. No need to share.”
Lu Yang teased him. “How stingy of you!”
Xie Yan just grinned, playful as ever, teasing along the way. They got home just in time for dinner.
Zhao Peilan had saved some crispy rice for them, which Xie Yan dipped in sauce before eating, then finished the rest of his meal.
His appetite had grown steadily, though the family didn’t know—he had been quietly training his core strength. When he played around with Lu Yang, he would sneakily lift him, testing his strength and gauging progress.
Li Feng said that at first, it was normal not to know where to apply force and to feel for it slowly. Once mastered, training day by day would make lifting little husband effortless.
If anyone asked why his appetite had increased, or whether he skipped meals at school, he would say, “I’ve been using my brain a lot. Using your brain makes you hungry too.”
Now there was Shun Ge in the house—a lively child—who would confirm, “It’s true! When I was learning characters, I got hungry so fast, even faster than when I was working!”
Lu Yang would then heap more food onto Shun Ge’s plate. If Li Feng left his brother with him, he couldn’t let him go hungry.
Xie Yan silently handed his bowl to Lu Yang too, insisting he help serve some dishes.
Shun Ge: “…”
No matter where he was, it could still make his teeth ache.
Dinner passed quietly. Full and content, they went to their rooms to wash up.
Xie Yan set down his backpack and pulled out a stack of manuscript paper to organize that night. He had finished half of his homework and planned to write an essay later.
Lu Yang let him see his article. “I wrote this afternoon. It’s mostly plain words, lots of characters but little content. Take a look.”
Xie Yan enjoyed reading Lu Yang’s writing. He liked the way Lu Yang expressed himself; reading it was like conversing with his thoughts.
Lu Yang had spent the whole afternoon writing seven or eight pages. Xie Yan flipped through them twice—just the time of a tea break. He deliberately went slowly, reading carefully.
Lu Yang said, “It’s not important. You don’t need to take your time.”
They sat at the small round table. Xie Yan pushed his manuscript forward for Lu Yang to see.
Lu Yang read slowly. Xie Yan’s notes were concise, often just a few words or broken sentences.
Sitting beside him, Xie Yan explained what had happened when he played the “bandit” last night.
“The topic we discussed was the same. I experienced many ways to ‘die’—there was no escape. They said that no matter the city’s actual situation, debates would always involve certain constraints, as this formed the basis. They liked analyzing from multiple angles; the positions of all parties would determine actions, and those actions would cause consequences and trigger accidents. Once this was explained, things returned to balance. Like I said before, every power has a backer. If they didn’t, situations often ended mysteriously—they secretly reached some agreement unknown to outsiders.”
Xie Yan flipped through Lu Yang’s manuscript, stopping where he had put himself in the merchant’s perspective. “I think it’s a case of ‘the thief cries out to catch a thief,’ which overlaps with some of your hypotheses.”
He crumpled the page into a ball, giving an example.
“The cargo ship is a fourth-party force. The Hong family played ‘thief cries out to catch a thief,’ offering the cargo to the sailors. They punished the ship’s owner while intimidating bandits.”
“You know too little. Yesterday, I didn’t tell you whose ship it was,” Xie Yan said.
Lu Yang’s curiosity sparked. “Whose ship?”
Xie Yan said, “Also the Hong family’s. There’s internal conflict.”
Lu Yang’s eyes lit up.
Internal conflict, not bandit revenge—this made things much simpler.
Li Feng and the others would be much safer at the docks. Business could proceed steadily.
As for choosing sides, it wasn’t their concern yet.
With so many merchants at the docks, they were just small fish—hardly worth mentioning.
They would act when the time was right, prioritizing stability over risk.
Lu Yang smiled at the thought. This was truly good news.
Both of them wanted to write a little. The round table couldn’t fit them, so they moved to the study.
Sitting across from each other at the desk, they shared an inkstone and two brushes. Xie Yan organized notes and finished an essay to complete his homework.
He wrote quickly, and Lu Yang was still writing after he stopped.
Lu Yang had a forceful approach to tasks, never doing anything half-heartedly. After thinking about matters in the afternoon and hearing Xie Yan’s explanation in the evening, then reviewing his debate notes, he made his own summary.
Even with limited information, placing himself in familiar roles was helpful for understanding.
His bold hypotheses expanded the range of his thinking.
What needed improvement was the narrowness of his perspective. He reflected on the Chen family, who ran only a small tofu shop. If two brothers fought over that, imagine the Hong family’s enterprise!
By listing examples and writing reflections, Lu Yang’s summary became long and thorough.
Xie Yan quietly observed, prepared ink, cut paper, and watched Lu Yang finish—his hand aching.
He looked up at Xie Yan cutting paper and paused.
“You’re done?”
Xie Yan nodded. “Mm, I only had a few words left.”
He set down the knife, came around the table, rubbed Lu Yang’s shoulders and arms, and asked, “Wanna chat a little more?”
Lu Yang shook his head. Nothing more to discuss.
“A Yan, remember what Elder Cui said? He told you to summarize based on predecessors’ experience, but you lacked your own thinking. Today’s discussion is the same. Both my reasoning and your debate are based on assumptions. That’s enough—we can summarize some experience and see some possibilities. The rest depends on how events unfold. Continuing to chat is just going in circles on assumptions.”
