Lu Yang sounded a little disappointed. “The boss was in a rush, so he asked him to stay in town overnight to finish the job.”
Lu Lin was curious—he’d always wondered how scholars made money. In his mind, it was just writing or teaching, nothing else.
Once Lu Yang explained, he realized even “writing” could mean different things. Xie Yan’s writing was worth more because his mind was sharp.
And funding a scholar’s education was no small investment. Supporting someone for over a decade without knowing when you’d see a return—it was costly.
By the time they returned to the village, night had already fallen. Lu Yang told Zhao Peilan what had happened.
She took it better than he did.
She said, “Ah Yan used to stay overnight at the study house often.”
Lu Yang kept that in mind. He’d already eaten in town, so he just added a bit more to his plate and sat down with his mother to share the warmth of a simple dinner.
But without his “top scholar” by his side tonight, Lu Yang had the entire bed to himself—and he could finally roll around freely. After washing up and getting ready for bed, he lay down, but nothing felt quite right. Lying on his back, it felt like his chest was exposed to the cold air. Lying on his side, he couldn’t figure out where to rest his arm.
Eventually, he rummaged through the wardrobe, pulled out Xie Yan’s padded jacket, and hugged it to his chest. Only then did his arm feel comfortable.
Now that he had the right position, he still couldn’t sleep.
He was thinking about Xie Yan. Crawling out of the covers again, he lit a candle and fished out a small pouch from his coat pocket.
Inside were a few melon seeds wrapped in paper that he’d been saving, a single red adzuki bean, and a love poem Xie Yan had written for him.
No matter how busy people were, they could always steal a few moments for affection.
Lu Yang had a habit of finding joy in his busy life—he’d memorize one line of the poem a day. Now, most of the words on the page were familiar. He could recognize them by sight.
He knew the recognition was shallow and temporary. If the poem were broken up and jumbled, he might only recognize a few characters. But right then, it felt sweet.
The last line on the page had been added by Xie Yan the day he gave him the red bean:
“This little thing holds the deepest longing.”
Lu Yang stared at that line for a long time. He couldn’t help but wonder—why had Xie Yan gifted him a red bean? They saw each other every day.
Do people still long for each other when they’re together all the time? Were scholars always this sentimental?
The night air was chilly, and he grew cold sitting there, so he crawled back under the covers.
Tossing and turning, he suddenly realized—he’d just seen Xie Yan a couple of hours ago, and he already missed him.
So it wasn’t just something scholars did. It was something lovers did.
This big, straightforward guy—Lu Yang—blushed at the thought of being “in love.”
He warmed up, relaxed, and finally fell into a deep sleep on that cold, windy night.
—
Back at the bookshop, Xie Yan stayed up all night, frantically writing from memory. By morning, the manuscript was ready to be sent off. His shoulders and back were sore and aching.
Boss Jin called someone over to massage his shoulders. But Xie Yan kept dodging, refusing to let anyone touch him.
Boss Jin was speechless. With a temperament like that, one pinch and he’d fold.
“Scholar Xie, do you save shoulder rubs for your husband? Don’t you feel bad making him so tired?”
Xie Yan did feel bad. He hesitated for a moment—but still refused.
He didn’t like being touched by others. It made him uncomfortable. Instead, he got up and walked a few laps to loosen up.
Seeing that, Boss Jin dropped the subject.
For breakfast, he specially sent someone out to buy meat buns. Lu Yang’s meat buns.
Xie Yan stared at them, heart heavy with longing. He missed his husband.
Boss Jin didn’t even bother to tease him. “You’re not in prison. What are you so desperate for?”
He quickly switched topics. “I spoke to my brother. He was at a banquet the other day and had already heard about it from two constables. He agreed to help. Once you finish this manuscript for me, you can submit the petition and sue those bastards. With that done, you can move into town and see your husband anytime you want.”
That made sense.
Xie Yan finished his bun, then dove back into writing with renewed energy.
—
Lu Yang, not wanting to disturb him, waited until after breakfast before heading to the bookshop—once again peeking through the window.
Even though it had only been one night, Xie Yan looked exhausted. He clearly hadn’t slept.
Lu Yang got angry and turned to Manager Wang. “What the hell is this? All that work for a few taels of silver and you won’t even let him sleep?”
Manager Wang looked utterly wronged. “Hey, I’m old too and my eyes are bloodshot!”
“Lu Yang, don’t blame me for being heartless—it’s your scholar husband who’s the tough one. I begged him to go to sleep last night! He kept saying, ‘Just one more page, just one more page.’ Before I knew it, the sky was already getting light. I figured, surely he’d rest once morning came. If nothing else, he could at least take a break for breakfast, right? But no—he kept going. It wasn’t until our boss brought in the meat buns you made that he finally put down his brush and ate something.”
Lu Yang listened, feeling uneasy.
He asked, “How much longer will it take?”
Xie Yan wrote fast—it was a skill he’d honed over many years. He didn’t enjoy chatting with people, but he loved the satisfaction of copying texts from memory. He often sat alone at his desk transcribing entire books by heart.
Back when his father was still around, the household could afford all the paper and ink he wanted. He practiced a lot. Even now, after a short warm-up, his pen moved across the page like a dragon in flight—quick and smooth.
The latter half of the manuscript had been copied by a student scribe. Since Xie Yan was fast, Boss Jin asked him to transcribe the entire book from memory so they could compare the two versions. If the second half matched, it’d mean the first half was likely accurate too.
Manager Wang said, “He should be done by today.”
If things went smoothly, he could be home by nightfall.
Lu Yang frowned, said a few words to Boss Jin, then walked over to convince Xie Yan to get some rest—even just half an hour. No one could stay up for a full day and night without breaking down.
Xie Yan was willing—because it was Lu Yang asking.
Lu Yang stayed with him.
The guest room was a communal sleeping area normally used by shop workers. The bedding had a bit of a smell to it.
There were piles of miscellaneous stuff around. Luckily the shop hands kept things fairly clean, regularly changing socks and washing clothes. Otherwise, the place would’ve reeked.
Xie Yan wrinkled his nose, but exhaustion got the better of him. Holding Lu Yang’s hand, he drifted off to sleep.
Lu Yang sat there, looking around the room, thinking about how they could remodel the back of their shop.
They’d need someone to stay behind and watch the store. Right now, they didn’t have much inventory, and they carted things back and forth every day. But leaving the storefront empty wasn’t safe.
Word had gotten around since they’d opened. Locals—and especially returning customers—knew no one stayed to guard the place. If someone spread rumors or tried to climb over the wall at night, it could be trouble.
Their tables and chairs were valuable. The dry goods and grains couldn’t be hauled back and forth every day. And inside they had a stove, firewood, and over a dozen big steamers.
They cooked lunch in town, so they’d already stocked up on bowls, utensils, and seasonings—all of it cost money.
Their family was small and not picky. They’d just live in the back of the shop.
The Xie household was made up of small rooms, and the three of them were used to tight quarters. If they split the big guest room into two, it’d be enough to sleep comfortably.
Living in town, they could get more sleep. Xie Yan could attend classes and come home every night.
It sounded perfect.
Lu Yang felt fired up, full of motivation.
After sleeping for half an hour, Xie Yan groggily woke up. His eyes still closed, he tried to get up and resume writing.
Lu Yang helped him sit up and gently dressed him.
Xie Yan clung to his waist and nuzzled his face against Lu Yang’s padded jacket like a sleepy cat.
Lu Yang ran his fingers through his hair and ruined the sweet moment with a joke: “This jacket hasn’t been washed in who knows how long. And you still have the nerve to rub your face on it? What—gonna cry now? Go ahead. Use your tears to wash my coat.”
Xie Yan muttered, “Not enough tears to get it clean.”
Lu Yang laughed. “You’ve got plenty of tears. You’re a top scholar, remember?”
The tears in Xie Yan’s eyes weren’t from emotion—just the sting of waking up without enough sleep. But Lu Yang’s teasing made him laugh anyway.
After a little cuddling, Xie Yan went back to his copying.
Lu Yang had heard from Manager Wang about the shoulder massage incident. He didn’t mind at all. He sat Xie Yan down firmly and gave him a proper back and shoulder rub. Xie Yan felt refreshed and energized—his efficiency doubled.
That evening, they got paid. On the way out, Xie Yan also picked up the books he’d been gifted.
When he said he wanted to cook soup using the books, Manager Wang thought he’d misheard. He double-checked three times. Even after watching Xie Yan walk away, he was still visibly shaken.
It was late by the time they headed home.
Because of Manager Wang’s strange look, Xie Yan hugged the book bag tightly during the donkey cart ride, not even letting Lu Yang take a peek inside.
