In just a single day, so much drama had unfolded that the entire town was buzzing with excitement. Word spread from mouth to mouth, and even those who hadn’t witnessed it gradually became storytellers themselves.
After all, no one had expected Shi Wuxiang—a mere licentiate—to march straight to the Cui residence and make such a public scene. He showed open disgust and rejection toward the Cui family’s daughter, leaving them no face whatsoever. It was obvious how much he wanted nothing to do with them.
By that very afternoon, nearly everyone in town—men, women, young, and old—knew how shamelessly Cui Xiuxiu had thrown herself at him. On top of that, many shopkeepers she had once bullied began speaking out. Her reputation was utterly ruined.
Cui Qi raged at home, fainting from anger, waking, then fainting again. He urged his wife to quickly arrange a marriage for their daughter.
“That boy from the Li family isn’t bad. You’ve always thought highly of him. Perhaps I should personally inquire—if the Li family is willing, we can settle it,” Madam Cui suggested gently.
Over the past half year, Li Qingwei had performed well, practically treating Cui Qi like a godfather. He was especially attentive toward Cui Xiuxiu, and the two were often seen strolling together. Anyone would assume the match was already decided.
But in truth, it wasn’t.
Before, Cui Qi would have agreed without hesitation.
But after the county magistrate’s investigation into local merchants, he had learned that the Li family was no longer what it once was. Tax evasion was a serious crime—if they hadn’t paid back what they owed and offered sufficient “compensation,” prison would have been inevitable.
Even if the Li family escaped punishment, their wealth must have been drained. And then there was the matter of the illicit substance—if that were exposed, they would be completely finished.
How could he let his daughter jump into such a pit?
“No. Not the Li family. Ask the matchmaker about other households. Lower standards are fine—better if they’re modest families, so our daughter can be in charge,” Cui Qi said.
He had only one daughter in his life and naturally wanted the best for her. But he had spoiled her too much—now she had become unrestrained.
Madam Cui nodded, planning to consult a matchmaker soon. Yet she didn’t realize that Cui Xiuxiu’s reputation had already been thoroughly tarnished. No respectable family would want her.
Yuan Zhao, meanwhile, knew nothing of this.
After returning home, he immediately slipped inside to warm himself by the fire, tossing a few sweet potatoes into the charcoal basin. Before long, a fragrant aroma filled the air, though they weren’t quite done yet.
Cold weather called for something hot and simple.
Madam Shi had prepared a pot of meat broth, then added noodles directly into it, making one big pot for convenience.
By the time the meal was ready, the sweet potatoes were done too. Their skins were charred, but inside was soft, golden, and sweet.
Yuan Yuan and Ranran shared one, then had a bowl of noodles. Shi Qingran ate a whole large sweet potato along with a big bowl of noodles.
Yuan Zhao skipped the sweet potato. He was still growing and needed something more filling—otherwise, he’d be as hungry as Qingyue.
Shi Wuxiang returned home at his usual time.
As soon as he entered the courtyard, he caught the familiar smell of roasted sweet potatoes—different from boiled ones, carrying a smoky richness.
He tied up his horse and entered, finding everyone gathered around the charcoal basin. The lingering fragrance made even him feel hungry.
“A-Xiang, we made a pot of noodles tonight. I set aside a big bowl for you—just heat it up and you can eat,” Yuan Zhao said, worried he might not feel like eating.
“Alright,” Shi Wuxiang replied, though his gaze drifted toward the charcoal basin.
Sweet potatoes were strange—when you didn’t want them, you had no appetite at all. But when you did, even half-cooked ones seemed irresistible.
Yuan Zhao nudged him forward and hurried off to reheat the noodles.
Shi Wuxiang immediately joined the children in turning the sweet potatoes, making sure they didn’t burn on both sides.
He broke one open and took a careful bite. The inside was soft and sweet, instantly stirring his appetite. Blowing on it, he quickly finished one—even his hands were smeared black.
When Yuan Zhao came in with the noodles, he saw the soot around Shi Wuxiang’s mouth and blinked in surprise. “Your mouth is all… You guys didn’t tell him?”
Shi Qingyue and the others burst into laughter—they had done it on purpose.
Shi Wuxiang didn’t mind. He washed up quickly and began eating. He finished the bowl of noodles in no time, the fullness making him break into a light sweat.
“Alright, if you want to eat more, take them to your room,” Yuan Zhao said briskly, shooing them away. “Qingyue, take the charcoal basin.”
The siblings were reluctant—roasting sweet potatoes together was lively! They immediately signaled Yuan Yuan.
“Brother, I want to roast them with you,” Yuan Yuan said obediently, looking up.
“With me? Then let’s go to your room, alright? I’ll come too,” Yuan Zhao said.
After all, A-Xiang would be studying after dinner. Yuan Zhao had never disturbed him before. If the room was crowded, he’d stop studying and just join the fun.
He didn’t notice the subtle shift in Shi Wuxiang’s expression.
As long as he was with his brother, Yuan Yuan didn’t care where they roasted—even in the snowy courtyard he’d agree!
He nodded eagerly. Yuan Zhao pinched his cheek. “Go ahead and take the basin over. I’ll come in a bit.”
“Okay!” Shi Qingyue answered first, carrying the basin away. The others followed like little tails.
Soon, only Yuan Zhao and Shi Wuxiang remained.
“We won’t disturb your reading then. I’ll go join them,” Yuan Zhao said with a smile.
“Too many sweet potatoes will make your stomach bloated,” Shi Wuxiang said lightly.
“I’ll remind them not to eat too much. I’ll roast one for you as a late-night snack—you’ll be tired after studying,” Yuan Zhao replied cheerfully.
Shi Wuxiang’s expression softened. He lifted his chin slightly in acknowledgment.
Yuan Zhao hurried off.
The room fell silent.
Shi Wuxiang sat at the table for a moment, then opened his worn book, trying to memorize its contents. But after several attempts, nothing stuck.
It was irritating.
He couldn’t help but resent Yuan Zhao a little—were those children the only ones worth his time?
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to focus. Gradually, his wandering thoughts faded, and he immersed himself in study.
In Yuan Yuan’s room, Yuan Zhao roasted sweet potatoes with the children. He joked that he wanted to dream of their smell that night.
The childish remark made the Shi siblings laugh, but Yuan Zhao understood.
Back in the Yuan household, they had grown sweet potatoes too—carefully tended by Yuan Zhao himself. In late autumn, they yielded a good harvest.
Yet none of those potatoes were ever theirs.
Even half-rotten ones—rather than letting them eat the good parts, the family would cut them off and feed them to the chickens.
Not even a piece as thin as a little finger was given to them.
How could he not harbor resentment? Even if the Yuan family had fallen into ruin—some dead, some mad, some ill—his hatred wouldn’t fade.
When the sweet potatoes were ready, Yuan Zhao picked them out one by one and chose two medium-sized ones to bring to Shi Wuxiang.
Knock, knock.
He knocked softly. When there was no response, he assumed Shi Wuxiang was still studying. He quietly entered, set the sweet potatoes on the table, and turned to leave.
“Ah! You scared me!”
He nearly jumped when he turned and saw Shi Wuxiang standing behind him, instinctively punching his chest.
Shi Wuxiang caught his wrist with a smile. “You sneaked in like a thief. Of course I had to see what you were up to.”
“I should knock you on the head with these sweet potatoes!” Yuan Zhao huffed.
What else could he be doing? He had just said he’d bring a snack!
How could he forget?
Shi Wuxiang lightly shook his wrist. “I forgot. Are they asleep?”
“Not yet—they’re still chatting. Eat while it’s hot,” Yuan Zhao said, frowning slightly. How could he forget something like that?
Was his illness affecting his memory? He should see a doctor—his brain needed to stay sharp for exams!
“It’s late,” Shi Wuxiang said meaningfully.
“I know. I’ll tell them to sleep soon. You eat first.”
Yuan Zhao went to settle the children, moving the charcoal basin outside and making sure they washed up before returning.
Shi Wuxiang ate the sweet potatoes slowly. Roasting them over charcoal was hard to control—the skins were thickly charred, leaving less inside, but it was just right for a late-night snack.
Yuan Zhao sat beside him. “Qingyue and the others said you like sweet potatoes?”
“They’re fine,” Shi Wuxiang replied, then immediately grew wary. “If you’re thinking about planting sweet potatoes next year, forget it. We already can’t manage the land we have.”
“Who says we can’t? Mother can run the stall with them, and I’ll work the fields with Yuan Yuan! You and Qingyue can study in town—it’s perfectly arranged,” Yuan Zhao said confidently.
But he hadn’t considered everything.
Madam Shi managing the stall with Ranran would be exhausting, with no rest even at home. And for Yuan Zhao and Yuan Yuan—two young men—to cultivate several acres of land alone would mean working year-round without a single day off.
Unless Shi Wuxiang had gone mad, there was no way he would allow himself and Qingyue to live comfortably at the academy while the others labored at home until their bodies broke.
“So don’t even think about it,” he said firmly.
Yuan Zhao frowned. “But every family in the village works this hard…”
“And that’s why they die early,” Shi Wuxiang replied coldly. “Do you want to die young, so I can take the money you earned and immediately marry someone else?”
“You’re awful…” Yuan Zhao pouted. Even knowing it was hypothetical, it still stung.
“Good. If you know it’s awful, stop talking nonsense,” Shi Wuxiang said. “Unless you’re willing to listen to me—hire people to run the stall and work the fields—otherwise don’t bring it up again.”
“But hiring people costs money…” Yuan Zhao felt like a miser. He had worked so hard to earn that money, and now he’d have to give some away every month…
It hurt just thinking about it.
“But if you hire others, you’ll have more energy for other things. Money will only grow,” Shi Wuxiang said, shifting tactics when reasoning failed. “Don’t you want your own shop? Be the owner. When people talk about me, they’ll say I’m the husband of the shop owner. Wouldn’t that make me look good?”
That… actually sounded pretty nice.
With a shop, he’d be the boss. No more suffering through freezing winters and scorching summers. No more monthly stall fees. The savings alone could cover hired help.
And A-Xiang would have face.
“That does sound good…” Yuan Zhao admitted shyly.
“Then after the New Year, we’ll find a broker in town and look for a suitable shop. We’ll hire a couple of workers, and you can just collect the money as the owner,” Shi Wuxiang said.
Now that he’d thought it through, Yuan Zhao stopped resisting and nodded decisively. “Alright, I’ll listen to you.”
Compared to hiring people to farm, hiring someone to run a shop was easier to accept.
To Yuan Zhao, land was the most important thing. Entrusting it to others felt deeply unsettling. Only by working the fields himself and seeing the harvest could he feel at ease.
Shi Wuxiang understood that. For ordinary people, land meant survival—without it, there was only starvation.
Some things had to be solved step by step. This was already progress.
After washing up again, the two lay on the warm kang, chatting quietly before sleep.
Strangely, neither of them mentioned Cui Xiuxiu. Yet the matter had already spread everywhere—by the time they returned to town, everyone knew.
The next day.
When Yuan Zhao set up his stall, he noticed many unfamiliar faces. The new customers looked at him with curiosity and scrutiny, as if thinking: So this is what he looks like?
Even the regulars were acting oddly, smiling at him and muttering things like “so enviable” and “young people…”
It was as if he had changed overnight.
“Mother, they’re acting strange…” Yuan Zhao said uneasily. “I’ll go ask around. You watch the stall.”
“Alright,” Madam Shi replied, equally nervous.
When they had first come to town, they had endured some mockery—but most people were kind. Still, the feeling of being watched like this brought back old unease.
Just as Yuan Zhao was about to leave, the bun seller nearby called out with a grin. “Why go asking around? Just ask me!”
“Didn’t you pack up earlier than us?” Yuan Zhao laughed.
“I know plenty of people!” the bun seller chuckled. “You have no idea what happened yesterday! I heard your husband went straight to the Cui house and shouted at their door, telling them to stop their daughter from pestering him—or he’d report it to the authorities! Oh my! No wonder your relationship is so good!”
“…What?”
“…Huh??”
Yuan Zhao’s expression shifted from shock to dazed disbelief.
A-Xiang had done that—and didn’t tell him?
He went straight to the Cui house? Cui Qi was vindictive—what if he held a grudge? What if he secretly targeted A-Xiang?
Yet in that moment, Yuan Zhao could only stand there, stunned.
Madam Shi was equally shocked. Shi Wuxiang had once respected Cui Qi deeply. For him to act like this showed just how far the Cui family had gone.
Only now did Yuan Zhao understand those strange looks—people must be thinking: So this ordinary person is the one who made Shi Wuxiang go to such extremes.
Across town, the story spread like wildfire. Even storytellers added it as a side anecdote, as if not knowing it meant being out of touch.
“They had it coming! You should’ve seen how arrogant that Cui girl was, always walking around with that Li scholar, and still trying to chase a married man!”
“I’ve seen it too—she used to stop Boss Yuan to talk. That boy’s got a good temper to put up with it.”
“What else could he do? The Cui family has status. Ordinary people don’t dare offend them.”
“That’s true. But I heard that since yesterday afternoon, Madam Cui has been looking for a matchmaker. Seems they’re trying to marry her off.”
Marry her off?
Inside the Cui household, chaos reigned.
Cui Xiuxiu was in tears. She had wanted to marry Shi Wuxiang, but never expected him to humiliate her so thoroughly, ruining her reputation.
Her mother had inquired about several families—but none were willing to take her as a wife. Those who once flattered her now avoided her entirely.
Only the Li family came forward.
Li Qingwei was acceptable—if there was no better option, she could accept it. She just didn’t want to be the subject of gossip anymore.
“I said the Li family is not an option!” Cui Qi roared. “When will you listen? You’ve already cost me all my dignity—can’t you behave for once?!”
Cui Xiuxiu, unaccustomed to such harsh scolding, screamed back, “Then what am I supposed to do? No one else will marry me! If you refuse them too, what will become of me?!”
“You fool! With everything happening to the Li family, do you think marrying into them will end well? You’ll be sold off and still count money for them!” Cui Qi was nearly beside himself with rage.
If they became in-laws, every problem the Li family had would implicate the Cui family as well. He couldn’t take that risk.
Before, he had tolerated Li Qingwei because of his wealth. Now that the Li family was ruined, tying themselves together would only drag them down further.
“Then what should I do…” Cui Xiuxiu sobbed.
She had always been admired—never rejected like this.
In her heart, it was all Yuan Zhao’s fault. If he hadn’t “bewitched” Shi Wuxiang into causing that scene, she wouldn’t have lost everything.
If she survived this, she would make sure to deal with him properly.
“Master, someone from the Li family has come again. This time, Young Master Li himself.”
A glint flashed in Cui Qi’s eyes. After a moment, he had him brought in.
Li Qingwei entered, still carrying the chill of the wind. Seeing Cui Xiuxiu’s tear-streaked face, he immediately comforted her. “Xiuxiu, don’t cry. Don’t be afraid—I’ll marry you.”
“Hmph! Marry? With what?” Cui Qi no longer bothered to hide his disdain. “You know the conditions for marrying my daughter.”
“Of course. That’s why I’ve come to discuss it,” Li Qingwei said smoothly.
Cui Xiuxiu, seeing his determination, felt somewhat reassured.
“Take her away,” Cui Qi ordered.
Once she was gone, Li Qingwei dropped his polite facade and sat down casually.
“So you’re done pretending,” Cui Qi sneered.
“You’re no different,” Li Qingwei shot back. “You used to favor Shi Wuxiang, but abandoned him for money. Now that I’ve lost mine, you want to abandon us too. You really think having a daughter lets you name any price?”
The words were cutting, exposing Cui Qi’s intentions plainly.
Cui Qi remained unmoved. “Say what you like. The conditions stand. Meet them, and you can marry her.”
“Do you really think you’re in a position to bargain?” Li Qingwei smiled, turning his teacup. “Right now, Cui Xiuxiu is unwanted. I’m willing to take her—that alone deserves your gratitude. Otherwise, she’ll be left on your hands forever.”
“Don’t be insolent!” Cui Qi snapped, fury flashing in his eyes.
Li Qingwei remained calm. “We can still afford a proper bride price. But if you don’t agree, she’ll have no choice but to remain unmarried—or worse. No respectable family wants a girl with such a reputation.”
It was the truth.
And the truth was harsh.
Cui Qi knew the rumors outside were relentless, threatening to drown the entire Cui family in disgrace. He had no good options.
But deep down, he still didn’t want to tie his fate to the Li family as they were now.
Master Shi Wuxiang merely smiled without speaking, but he clearly understood the meaning behind his words.
After washing up, Yuan Zhao slipped under the covers. The heated kang bed was burning warm, and the moment he burrowed in, he let out a contented sigh—there was nothing more comfortable in winter than a warm bed.
The cold made it hard for his hands and feet to stay warm, so he pressed them tightly against the heated surface, wriggling and puffing about as if rolling around under the quilt.
Shi Wuxiang had just finished soaking his feet; the warmth still lingered on his face.
He clicked his tongue lightly. “What are you doing? Is there treasure hidden in there?”
“I’m warming up.” Yuan Zhao stuck out a hand and patted the spot beside him. “A’Xiang, come on in. It’s really warm under here.”
“Mm.”
Shi Wuxiang got into bed. Not long after, Yuan Zhao pushed his still-cold feet against him. To his surprise, the feet he touched were already warm.
“You’re warm already?” Yuan Zhao exclaimed. “I need my whole body warmed up first. Look, I just soaked my feet and they’re already cold again.”
All this talk about feet made Shi Wuxiang’s head ache.
He simply pulled the man into his arms. “Stop chattering and go to sleep right now…”
“Are you really that sleepy? We haven’t even talked yet. Earlier you told the constables there were bad people in that alley, but you didn’t tell me anything. You scared me…”
“Mm.”
“And that pancake seller got arrested, so my business has been great these past two days! Serves them right for selling bad food. I heard the academy even worked with them, and a lot of students got sick. So awful!”
“Mm.”
“I also met another teacher from the academy. He came to buy pancakes and seemed easy to talk to. I told him a lot of bad things about Cui Qi, but Cheng Du said he’s a good person, so he should be, right?”
“…”
The only response Yuan Zhao got was the sound of slightly heavier breathing.
He puffed his cheeks and stopped talking, snuggling closer into the other man’s arms. They shared one quilt, but with the heated kang, it was warm enough.
What he didn’t expect was that tonight the kang seemed different. Normally it would grow cooler as the night went on, but instead he felt hotter and hotter, even beginning to feel short of breath and sweaty.
He tried to reach out and touch Shi Wuxiang, only to find himself held tightly. “A’Xiang?”
The sleeping man didn’t respond.
Yuan Zhao slowly realized something was wrong. The kang beneath him was only mildly warm now—no longer as hot as before. All the heat was coming from the person behind him.
“A’Xiang?!” Yuan Zhao slipped his hand under his clothes. Despite the intense heat, there was no sweat. “A’Xiang, you’re sick! Let go of me—I need to get a doctor!”
He struggled to pry him loose, quickly wrapped him tightly in blankets, then dressed himself in padded clothes and rushed out, waking Madam Shi to watch over him.
The snow outside had stopped, but it must have fallen heavily again overnight. A thick layer blanketed the ground—each step sank past the ankles.
Yuan Zhao stumbled and fell several times, scrambling back up each time and continuing forward. After great effort, he finally brought the village doctor.
The doctor rubbed his hands and checked his pulse. Fortunately, it wasn’t serious.
“Just a common cold aggravated by fatigue. That’s why it’s worse than usual. A few doses of medicine will do.” He had brought common herbs and prepared a prescription on the spot. “Don’t wipe him down yet—let him sweat first. He needs to expel the toxins.”
“Alright!” Yuan Zhao responded firmly. “I’ll see you out.”
The doctor left on his own, as the patient was more important.
Madam Shi went to boil the medicine, while Yuan Zhao stoked the kang even hotter and added another quilt, hoping to help him sweat it out.
By the time the medicine was ready, it was already their usual waking hour. With snow on the ground and a patient at home, no one had the heart to set up their stall.
Together they managed to get a bowl of bitter medicine into him, followed by a few sips of tea. Only then did they have a moment to rest.
“Mother, go get some sleep. I’ll watch over him,” Yuan Zhao said. “We’re not setting up the stall anyway. No need to rush breakfast—I’ll handle it later.”
There was no way he could sleep now anyway.
Madam Shi understood and didn’t argue, only reminding him to call her if needed before leaving.
Yuan Zhao lowered his gaze to the sleeping man. The handsome scholar’s cheeks were flushed from fever, his breathing uneven and labored. Yuan Zhao quickly raised the pillow slightly so he could breathe more easily.
He was actually quite good at taking care of others. When he used to care for Yuan Yuan, he only needed to coax him to drink medicine and then give him a bit of sugar to make him happy for a long time.
He pinched Shi Wuxiang’s cheeks, forced his mouth open, and fed him a few spoonfuls of warm water, hoping to bring on sweating.
Even in his feverish haze, Shi Wuxiang’s mind was filled with fragments of his research lab and the academy, memories overlapping and shifting, making his head ache and his vision blur.
Even half-conscious, he couldn’t understand why the original host’s memories felt so vivid.
“Hah—!”
He suddenly opened his eyes, sweeping his gaze across the room.
Yuan Zhao lay beside him. His body was slightly sticky with sweat, though now that it had dried, he felt a bit chilled.
His mouth tasted bitter—he must have been given medicine.
“A’Xiang, you’re awake. Do you feel better?” Yuan Zhao asked softly.
It was Shi Wuxiang who had been sick, yet Yuan Zhao’s voice was hoarse.
Shi Wuxiang blinked. “Much better…”
“Your throat must be dry. Drink more water.” Yuan Zhao fed him some water. “It’s already noon. We’ve eaten—are you hungry? I can bring your meal.”
“Alright,” Shi Wuxiang replied softly.
Yuan Zhao quickly got up and brought in a bowl of soft porridge and some chopped pickled vegetables.
“It’s soft rice porridge and some pickles. Do you want anything else? Will this be enough?”
“It’s enough.”
Shi Wuxiang sat up with some effort. His pale inner robe made him look even more fragile, yet there was a certain unique allure.
Yuan Zhao didn’t know how to describe it—just that it looked very good, very captivating. His eyes stuck to him.
Shi Wuxiang sighed lightly. “Wipe your drool.”
Yuan Zhao immediately wiped his mouth.
Dry!
“You’re teasing me!” he pouted, then brightened. “You look so good in white. Just not practical—it gets dirty easily. When you go to the academy, you can wear it more!”
Shi Wuxiang glanced at him. Over the past six months, Yuan Zhao’s features had matured. Setting aside his skin tone, his features were quite refined—not the delicate beauty of other young men, but clean and elegant.
Especially his eyes—when he looked at someone, it made one want to give him everything good in the world.
“Once we earn more, next year we should hire someone to watch the stall,” Shi Wuxiang said. “Or rent a shop in town.”
Yuan Zhao blinked. “That must be expensive! I’m young and strong—I should work hard and make money! Otherwise how will you pay tuition?”
Shi Wuxiang hadn’t expected him to still be thinking of that. His heart warmed.
“But hiring help won’t cost much. You’d suffer less.”
“We’ll talk about it later. It’s still early,” Yuan Zhao said.
“There’s only a month until the New Year.”
Yuan Zhao bared his teeth. “Stop talking about that and focus on recovering! The doctor said you’re weak—you need rest. Since it’s snowing, we won’t set up the stall. I’ll stay with you!”
“Suit yourself…” Shi Wuxiang sighed.
Stubborn as ever.
Suddenly Yuan Zhao frowned. “Are you secretly scolding me?”
“Oh? You caught that?” Shi Wuxiang said with a faint smile. “You’re quite smart.”
“Don’t talk anymore!”
“…”