Li Feng agreed to split the household. With Er Tian and his wife not on the same page, if that whole bride-price scam blew up again, the family would never have peace.
But as far as he was concerned, his mother and little brother didn’t need to move out—he was the eldest son, it was his duty to support them.
But Chen Guizhi wouldn’t hear of it. “You two have something big going on—I’m not about to get caught up in it. I’ll take Shun and look after him, find him a good marriage in a couple of years, and that’ll be me keeping my promise to your father. Once he’s married off, I’ll see if your sky has fallen or not. If it hasn’t, then maybe I’ll think about living with you two again.”
With more than twenty days left until the New Year, Li Feng didn’t try too hard to persuade her. When the time came, maybe things would change.
When he came out, Shun had already boiled hot water and called him over to wash up.
Li Feng brought the basin into the bedroom. Lu Liu wasn’t asleep—his limbs felt like jelly, but his eyes were open. As soon as he saw Li Feng, he broke into a smile.
“I thought I was dreaming. I didn’t know where I was. And you weren’t there, my Da Feng.”
Li Feng wrung out a warm cloth and wiped his face. Lu Liu closed his eyes obediently, and when Li Feng was done, he looked at him with a sweet, soft smile. “Da Feng, I made Mom like me today.”
“Oh?” Li Feng asked. “And how’d you do that?”
Lu Liu beamed. “She ate the snake meat, and I ate the rabbit leg!”
Which, really, had nothing to do with winning anyone over—but Li Feng just said, “Congrats.”
Lu Liu was so happy he couldn’t stop giggling.
Li Feng lifted the quilt at the foot of the bed and wiped his feet.
But Lu Liu still had something on his mind. He called out again, “Da Feng, today you were so, so, so… likable.”
He tried for the longest time to find the right word, but he couldn’t. All he knew was, he liked how outgoing Li Feng had been.
Li Feng grinned. “What did you like?”
“I liked hearing you laugh out loud,” Lu Liu said.
That really made Li Feng laugh. “You little drunk, you’ve been muttering all this time, and I can’t make heads or tails of it.”
Lu Liu didn’t think he was drunk at all. “I’m Xiao Liu, not a little drunk. I said I liked hearing you laugh, and you don’t even get it.”
Li Feng teased him. “Well then, explain it.”
Lu Liu’s mind was slow from the drink; his thoughts spun around and took a hundred turns. Finally, he said, “I just like seeing you happy!”
And Li Feng’s heart melted right then and there.
“As long as I’m happy, you’re happy?”
Lu Liu nodded hard. “And laugh even louder next time!”
Li Feng asked, “Anything else?”
Lu Liu got shy. “Be a little rougher with me.”
He couldn’t really say what exactly he meant by that.
Later that night, when they were eating chicken and Li Feng was a bit forceful, he knew—that was what he liked. Just a little fierceness, so Li Feng felt real, so he wouldn’t feel like he was dreaming.
Even when he’d cry and beg Li Feng to go easy, his voice was so soft and sweet it was like honey, all sticky and coaxing, saying no when he really meant yes, saying go easy when he really wanted more. And if Li Feng actually slowed down or softened, he’d be confused and look at him so honestly, asking, “Is it over already?”
Of course not.
And if they went a few rounds, in his drunken state, Lu Liu would spill out all kinds of truths.
“Da Feng, you didn’t used to be like this. Did you not eat enough? You seem tired. Maybe we should wait till next time? I can just go to sleep, it’s fine.”
Which was basically the same as saying you’re not up to it anymore, only in kinder words.
In the village house, with other people nearby, Li Feng would cover Lu Liu’s mouth with his big hand, swallowing up those soft, tempting sounds with his own mouth so no one else could hear.
By the end of it, they were both soaked in sweat. The radish soup hadn’t done a thing—that sobered Lu Liu right up.
And oh, he was so embarrassed, feeling every bit of Li Feng’s fierceness, trying to cover his mouth to hide the noises, still staying put and not trying to escape.
When dawn broke, Lu Liu’s eyelids were heavy. He rubbed his eyes, wanting a little more sleep. In the morning light, he noticed the dust dancing in the air.
And he said to Li Feng, “You wrecked the wall.”
Li Feng burst out laughing—just the loud, joyful laugh Lu Liu liked so much.
Lu Yang grabbed some walnuts and peanuts from the shop, then went out to the street and bought some kidney beans, lotus seeds, and chestnuts. With the glutinous rice and polished rice he already had for the porridge, that made seven ingredients.
Usually, five ingredients were enough for this time of year, but since he’d gotten seven, he figured—why not add one more?
After thinking it over, he decided to add a little sugar and make it a sweet porridge.
On the evening of the seventh, he started prepping—cracking the walnuts, shelling the peanuts, peeling the chestnuts. He soaked the rice ahead of time, and before bed, he put all the ingredients into a clay pot, added water, and tucked it into the stove to cook slowly overnight.
But by then, only embers were left in the stove, not enough to fully cook the porridge. At dawn, Lu Yang stoked the fire, set the clay pot over the flame, and let it simmer on low heat until the fragrance of the rice filled the air.
While the porridge was cooking, he checked what else was in the pantry and decided to make radish and shredded veggie stuffed pancakes.
Even his vegetarian fillings were tasty. He’d blanch the shredded radish and mix in some finely chopped wood ear mushrooms. With the dough already proofed, he’d pinch off a bit, knead it smooth, roll it into a long strip, cut it into small rounds, and roll those into thin, long wrappers.
For veggie pancakes, Lu Yang liked to use a thin dough to wrap a generous amount of filling—not like making buns. Each pancake was still palm-sized, but the thin dough wrapped around a hefty ball of filling, layered over and over. If any filling peeked out, he’d fold the dough over it, shaping it into a round patty, then gently flattening it into a thick cake about the size of his palm.
Veggie filling was cheap, so he could use plenty of it and not need as much dough. The pancakes weren’t huge, but they were satisfying—four or five good bites, and one was gone, leaving both the appetite and taste buds happy.
Someday, when he had more money, he’d make meat-stuffed pancakes like this too. Big bites of meat—that’s the real treat.
The radishes were all homegrown or gifts from the neighbors—he had several baskets of them. What little veggies the family had, he didn’t bother to sell, just kept for themselves.
After Laba Festival, there’d be more snow, and fresh veggies would be harder to come by. But with so many radishes and a good supply of flour, Lu Yang figured he’d make extra pancakes and send some over for Lu Lin to try.
Right as he was figuring the timing, he spun around and caught Xie Yan peeking into the kitchen, giving him a good startle.
Lu Yang burst out laughing. “Why do you always sneak around like that?”
That word—sneaking—immediately made Xie Yan think of the night before last, of villagers peeking around corners, over yard walls, or behind windows. The memory made him flustered.
He mumbled, “I’m not like them.”
“Oh? How’s that?”
“They have nothing to do with you—they’re spying. But you’re my husband. When I look at you, it’s honest.”
Lu Yang grinned. “That’s your reason for sneaking around?”
Xie Yan thought for a second. “I didn’t want to scare you.”
Lu Yang snorted. “More like you’re afraid I’ll run off!”
Well… yeah. That was it.
Xie Yan smiled sheepishly.
With everything out in the open now, Lu Yang’s daily life didn’t change much. His top scholar husband was still clingy, still couldn’t get out of bed in the morning without lying there reciting a bit of the Thousand Character Classic to wake himself up. And once he made his way to the kitchen, he didn’t barge in or shout out like before. He’d just quietly stand there, like seeing Lu Yang was enough to make him happy.
Lu Yang was content with that—too much change would’ve made him uncomfortable.
When the pancakes were hot out of the pan, he loaded five onto a plate, filled a big bowl with the Laba porridge, and sent Xie Yan out to deliver them.
“Take these to Brother Lin,” he said.
Xie Yan was comfortable visiting now—he’d even asked Lu Lin for help making chicken soup once.
He fetched a small basket, nestled the bowl and plate inside, and carried them out steadily.
It was Laba Festival, but the shop still had to open.
Lu Yang had always said—the worst thing for a shop was to open one day and close the next. Once you open, unless it’s a holiday, no matter how tough things get, even if the sky falls, you keep that shop open.
That kind of steady business reassured the locals. It meant when they needed something, they’d come straight over, no hesitation, no worrying if they’d find the doors closed and have made the trip for nothing.
Lu Lin was up early too, getting ready to open his shop.
He’d made Laba porridge too, though with fewer ingredients—just peanuts, red dates, kidney beans, and polished rice. When he accepted the porridge and pancakes from Xie Yan, he said, “Hold on a sec.”
He swapped out the bowl and plate, then ladled out a bowl of his own porridge to send back with him.
