The chicken seller was called Zhao San’er. After giving Yuan Zhao plenty of tips, he went around Qingluan Village selling the remaining chicks and eggs.
Those who wanted to buy did so. Hearing he had come from the Shi household, some even asked Yuan Zhao whether the chicks were good. Yuan Zhao answered honestly, which helped Zhao San’er sell even more.
Once that was settled, Yuan Zhao set off. He had originally planned to take the children to the fields, but they were all fixated on the chicks, so he went alone.
The weeds in the fields were cleared daily. Seeing the crops sprouting well, Yuan Zhao felt deeply satisfied—food would no longer be a worry.
After checking the fields, he headed into the mountains again, planning to find a place to set traps—something he knew how to do.
Back when he lived with Yuan Daguang’s family and never had enough to eat, he had learned to survive in the mountains—raiding bird nests, hunting… anything edible had ended up in his and Yuan Yuan’s stomachs. That was how they had managed not to starve to death.
Standing at the riverside below the small hillside, Yuan Zhao had just finished surveying where to set his traps when he heard a group of women chatting nearby.
“Is it true? Did Zhao boy really do that?”
“Hey, what are you even saying? Zhao boy saved your Zhao Hu’s life back then, and now you’re talking nonsense? That’s really inappropriate!”
Yuan Zhao’s ears sharpened at the mention of his name. He knew village women liked gossip, but he had no desire for his name to appear in their mouths—because you never knew what twisted version would come out.
Zhao Hu’s mother said, “It’s true! My Huzi is such an honest, simple boy—how could he not know a married ger can’t be taken as a wife? If that Zhao boy didn’t promise him something, why would Huzi insist on marrying him?”
“Is that so?” Yuan Zhao walked up quietly and asked.
“Of course it is!” Zhao Hu’s mother answered absentmindedly—then froze when she looked up. “Y-you—Zhao boy?!”
Yuan Zhao smiled faintly, not quite smiling. “Auntie, I’d really like to know—what exactly did I promise your son Zhao Hu? I saved him once, and you all thanked me profusely. Now you turn around and spread this kind of talk. That doesn’t seem right, does it?”
The other women washing clothes nearby looked like they were enjoying the show. Everyone in Qingluan Village had heard of how decent Zhao boy was before he married into the Shi family—he was nothing like what Zhao Hu’s mother was implying.
Clearly it was her son who had one-sided feelings, and now she was blaming the other party.
“I-I didn’t mean it that way,” Zhao Hu’s mother stammered. “It’s just… you’re already married, and it’s not proper to be so close to our Huzi…”
“I should be careful with my words too, Auntie,” Yuan Zhao said evenly. “I’ve never met your son in private. As for him, he did bring me a few cabbages under the excuse of repaying a favor. I suppose eating a couple cabbages for a life-saving favor isn’t too much, is it?”
“Not… not too much…”
Yuan Zhao smiled again. “Then that settles it. Instead of worrying about idle gossip, Auntie should keep a better eye on your son. It’d be best if he found steady work in town like my household’s scholar husband, so you won’t have time to worry about who he’s getting entangled with.”
His tone was light, but every word carried a sharp edge.
Zhao Hu’s mother had no face left. She quickly wrung out her clothes without even finishing, dumped them back into the basin, and left in a hurry.
“Hey, Zhao boy, what does your scholar husband do in town?”
“Yeah, he’s out early and back late every day—he must be earning good money, right?”
The women teased him with smiles.
Yuan Zhao didn’t hide it and answered honestly. Shi Wuxiang had already been working in town for some time—there was nothing to conceal.
He chatted a few more words before heading home.
He still had work waiting. He didn’t have the leisure to die over a few rumors.
When he returned, the children were still circling the chicken coop. The newly arrived chicks were timid, and at every sound they would all scatter in one direction like a wave.
“Treat them like treasures, hmm? Make sure you feed them well,” Yuan Zhao said with a laugh.
“Brother!” Yuan Yuan ran into his arms. “Didn’t you just go check the fields?”
“I came down from the other side of the mountain and got delayed,” he replied.
Shi Qingyue glanced at him quietly, then turned back to the chicks without saying anything.
In the following days, rain remained steady. Mushrooms and wood ears kept appearing in the mountains, and every time they went out, they returned with full baskets to dry.
Before long, it was market day again.
Early in the morning, Yuan Zhao and Shi Wuxiang took the ox cart into town. Their baskets were filled with dried goods, while a borrowed book for Hu Lu was carefully held in his arms.
Since it was borrowed, he couldn’t afford to damage it—otherwise no one would lend books to them again.
“If you’re sleepy, you can lean on me and rest,” Shi Wuxiang said softly.
The other women on the cart were chatting, so no one paid attention to their quiet exchange.
Yuan Zhao glanced at him in surprise but shook his head. “There are so many people watching… people will gossip again.”
His tone carried a faint complaint. Shi Wuxiang hesitated, then asked quietly, “While I’m away in town, has someone been bothering you?”
“You guessed that?” Yuan Zhao’s eyes widened instantly. “You scholars are scary.”
“Tell me,” Shi Wuxiang said.
So Yuan Zhao briefly told him about Zhao Hu’s mother. It had already been several days, yet he still remembered it—making him feel a bit petty.
From the start, Shi Wuxiang had never thought highly of Zhao Hu. The fact that he knew Yuan Zhao was already married in name, yet still tried to approach him, was enough to mark him as foolish.
Now it turned out he wasn’t just foolish—he was also a shameless liar.
“Don’t bother with her,” Shi Wuxiang said coldly. “If she keeps talking nonsense, we’ll report her to the authorities. And stay away from Zhao Hu in the future.”
“I won’t talk to him,” Yuan Zhao nodded firmly.
Unable to resist, Shi Wuxiang reached out and gently patted his head, like soothing a child.
Yuan Zhao often patted Yuan Yuan and the others, but he hadn’t known being patted felt like this—warm, numb, almost dizzying. His body went soft in an instant.
He subconsciously leaned closer, and Shi Wuxiang, thinking he was sleepy, pulled him into his shoulder.
Yuan Zhao ended up holding onto his racing heartbeat as he closed his eyes.