He also brushed down the horses, letting them cool off a bit.
After the meal, Zhao Peilan tidied the kitchen while Lu Yang fed Weimeng and refreshed its water, then went to brush the horses. Once both were settled, they returned indoors for an afternoon nap.
In the afternoon, he and Lu Liu held the children and went over to visit their fathers for a while, giving the two grandmothers a break. Shun’ge had free time, so he didn’t disturb the small family gathering; he picked up his long-neglected embroidery basket and started making shoes.
He received a pair of beautiful shoes and promised his eldest brother’s wife he would make a pair for his older brother as well. He planned to make three pairs—one for his brother, one for the sister-in-law, and one for their mother. The latter half of the year would be busy.
Meanwhile, Lu Erbao and Wang Fengnian also rested for a bit, but neither slept soundly.
In past years at this season, they had been busy all day. Lu Erbao alone couldn’t finish the work; at noon, he rested briefly under the blazing sun before continuing. Wang Fengnian had to cook, handle household chores, and deliver water whenever he had a free hand. With no large water jars at home, he had to carry water frequently.
After the Dragon Boat Festival, the rainy season would arrive.
Farmers’ hearts were tense—whether it rained heavily or lightly, and for how long, they watched and fretted, hearts tight with worry.
Until the wheat harvest, this anxiety reached its peak. Every year was a test—they had to compete with Heaven for the harvest, and struggle against their own greed and superstition.
The family sat together, played with the children, chatted about daily life, and cut paper to make blank ledgers for Lu Liu to keep accounts.
Lu Liu even handed each of the two fathers five wen: “Da Feng gave this to me, and I didn’t get much. This is for the fish you helped me prepare.”
Neither of them wanted to accept it—there was the usual back-and-forth of refusals.
Lu Yang, watching from the side, noticed that they spoke more directly to Lu Liu, saying things like “No, don’t need it. Keep it for yourself,” in a firm, matter-of-fact tone.
He continued amusing the children. The two little ones could sit, but they loved playing with adults. If one sat, the other would topple over, just as Shun’ge had experienced.
Lu Yang held both, keeping them upright. Despite things not going perfectly, the two babies giggled, softening Lu Yang’s heart.
After Lu Liu finished trying to give the wages, he finally placed the coins in their hands and joined Lu Yang in entertaining the children. The little ones still couldn’t tell which was their father; they clung to whoever was closest or waved to whoever’s arms they reached.
When they looked up and saw another “father” across the way, they were confused and reached for hugs again.
Lu Yang and Lu Liu took turns holding them. After several rounds, the babies grew dizzy, and just as they were having fun, they suddenly cried.
Lu Liu, experienced, told Lu Yang: “Brother, turn your back to me, hold him, pat and soothe him, say ‘Daddy’s here,’ and he’ll be fine soon.”
Lu Yang did as told, and the child smiled.
He said: “Once they learn to speak, they might call me Daddy too.”
Lu Liu laughed: “Then I’ll have to give birth to your child.”
Lu Yang shook his head at his mouthy brother: “Save that for comforting Da Feng!”
Afternoon time was short. After playing and chatting, they needed to return home to prepare dinner.
Lu Yang first cooked rice, stir-fried cabbage with tofu, and pan-fried fish pieces to go with the meal, waiting for Xie Yan to come home to make mushroom scrambled eggs for him.
Dinner was light; no need for exchanges or sharing—after eating, they would close the doors.
After dinner, Xie Yan took care of the dog, chatted with his mother about the day, and then they all bathed.
Lu Yang intentionally delayed slightly, waiting for the lights to go out in his mother’s room before calling Xie Yan over, saying he wanted him to rub his back. In reality, it was to show him his dudou.
He had sweated a lot today; the clothing needed changing. Once washed and dressed, there would be nothing left to show.
Lu Yang removed his outer garment, leaving only a dudou that barely covered him. The red fabric made his skin look very pale; the thin straps wrapped behind his back, with a knot dropping a shadow along his waist.
Below was a cloth belt, which, when undone, became loose trousers.
He wanted to undress further, but Xie Yan came over and held him.
Lu Yang pushed him: “What are you doing? I’m not finished yet.”
Xie Yan thought he already looked good.
Lu Yang said: “I knew it—you like it halfway off. Too little undressing is boring; too much, you can’t bear to look. You like it half undone, just like you want something but are too shy to ask.”
Xie Yan denied it: “Before, you fully undressed, I liked it then too.”
Lu Yang stepped back, leaned against the tub, letting Xie Yan kiss him, but not below the neck.
He asked if Xie Yan wanted to bathe together, “We’ve never bathed together. I don’t know what it feels like squeezed in.”
Upon hearing this, Xie Yan started undoing his dudou.
Lu Yang looked away and smiled: “Don’t you like looking? I can soak in the water and show you.”
Xie Yan was confused.
Lu Yang laughed even more.
Bathing together was cramped; legs couldn’t stretch. Sitting stacked, they naturally embraced and kissed before exiting the bath and returning to the room.
With clothes changed, water still clinging to their bodies, they rolled a few times on the kang to wake up.
Xie Yan asked if he wanted to go outside.
Feeling energetic, he always wanted to show off.
Lu Yang didn’t accompany him: “The room is big, mosquitoes slip in, and it’s not as fun outside. We’ll stay in the tent.”
They had their fun inside, after which Lu Yang stopped.
Small indulgences amuse, excess harms.
Xie Yan still had studies; affection was allowed, obsession was not.
He listened, patted his stomach, murmuring he would make sure he ate well in the future.
Lu Yang accepted this and slept soundly.
After several consecutive mornings selling breakfast, Lu Liu made many adjustments.
Fresh fish soup and mixed mushroom soup sold best, followed by rice porridge and mung bean porridge.
The city had many street vendors. Early in the morning, numerous people would set up stalls. Rice and mung bean porridge were common, but fresh fish soup and mixed mushroom soup were special—they had unique characteristics. Fish soup was boneless and easy to drink. Mixed mushroom soup was a rare delicacy, usually only found in restaurants.
Both soups were fresh; a morning bowl warmed the stomach and paired well with a pancake.
Flatbreads were quick to make, but filled pancakes were slower. For morning convenience, Lu Liu switched to buns.
He was embarrassed telling Lu Yang, shamefaced.
His brother had made his start selling savory meat buns. Coming to the city, he followed his brother’s method and earned money from it—it felt improper.
Lu Yang didn’t comment. With so many bun vendors in the city, what did it matter if his brother joined? If he wanted to sell buns, he could.
In this city, competition was not the fear—laziness was.
Lu Liu was diligent. After morning business, he would walk the streets to see what others sold. The next day he might bring salted duck eggs or boiled eggs to sell.
He also listened to advice. In the beginning, he could try various things. Once tested, he should settle quickly. Fixed offerings gave customers a sense of security, with small additions to spark curiosity.
Lu Liu finally settled on buns with savory meat, egg pancakes, two kinds of soup, and two kinds of eggs.
Egg pancakes sold for two wen each; buy two and receive a spoonful of mushroom-meat sauce.
Savory meat buns matched city prices: four wen each.
Salted duck eggs sold whole, with no profit. He bought some in advance; after curing, he could earn a small amount.
Boiled eggs yielded just a few fen—bought for 1.3 wen each, sold for two wen.
Fish soup remained five wen a bowl.
Mixed mushroom soup was pricier: eight wen per bowl.
Lu Liu felt a bit timid about the price; at home, he was embarrassed to speak it aloud. Lu Yang feared he might get interrupted by others’ comments, left shouting alone until he got used to it before allowing him to sell the mushroom soup.
Mushrooms had varied prices in the city. Others paid more. But for their own business, with easy sourcing, the price was lower. Among all products, it was the most profitable, with over fifty percent profit.
