Chapter 13

“What else can I do? Sleep together!”

Xiaoman’s eyes sparkled as he eagerly snuggled into the bed, nestling into Du Heng’s blanket.

Du Heng’s face burned red. Recalling Xiaoman’s earlier words, he instinctively clutched his waistband and edged away. “Th-this… isn’t right.”

“Which couple doesn’t sleep together? You’re my husband now.”

Xiaoman moved closer, trying to press against him.

“I… I’m not ready. We said we’d take our time to understand each other first.”

“I’ve been understanding you for three days already! What more do you need?”

Du Heng was shocked—three days since they met, and now… he couldn’t… no, he mustn’t.

“I… I’m not comfortable.”

Xiaoman frowned, sitting up. “Then you just lie there and don’t move. I’ll do it myself. It’ll only take a moment.”

Du Heng’s face turned scarlet as Xiaoman lunged. With a swift motion, he flipped off the bed, nearly tripping. “Don’t do this!”

Xiaoman missed his target, confused by Du Heng’s evasive reaction. He realized, with a hint of frustration, that: “So the thing you said earlier was a lie?”

“I wasn’t lying.”

“Then you’ve understood me, but you still won’t accept it? I treat you well, don’t I?”

Du Heng looked at him. “It’s not that you treat me badly… I just think the timing…”

“But what? You’re just like everyone else—still don’t like me!”

“Hmph!”

Xiaoman pouted, slipped into his shoes, and stormed out, slamming the door.

Du Heng hurried after him but got caught on the other side. “I never said I dislike you,” he called through the door. “This kind of thing can’t be rushed—you’re still young.”

Xiaoman curled under the covers, annoyed. “So you like older ones then!”

“…I don’t like older ones.”

“Enough, I’m going to sleep!”

Du Heng sighed.

Burying his face in the blankets, Xiaoman felt more aggrieved than ever. The Zhao family incident made him angry, but this—Du Heng rejecting him—left a deeper sense of injustice.

He simply wanted to be near him, to watch him, to be close.

Now he realized how strongly he felt. He had thought Du Heng would settle down with him, but perhaps he only wanted comfort, food, and drink, and when the weather improved next year, he might leave.

Xiaoman pulled the blanket up, panting, then peeked at the closed door, listening to the quiet outside.

All was still.

He exhaled, tugging at his hair in frustration.

Finally, calming himself, he thought that perhaps he shouldn’t have been so willful and domineering.

Outside, people often bullied him, which was why Qin Xiaoman acted that way. Du Heng hadn’t done anything wrong—he had only disagreed with Xiaoman’s wishes.

Not everyone had to obey him; he wasn’t the emperor.

Taking a deep breath, Xiaoman got up to find Du Heng. He pulled the door open and nearly ran into the man standing there. “Why are you still here?”

Du Heng looked at him quietly. Xiaoman had calmed down quickly—his temper flared fast but cooled just as fast. Du Heng didn’t say a word, just watched him.

He felt unsure how to comfort Xiaoman, worried that anything he said might sound like a deceitful excuse.

Xiaoman lingered in the doorway a moment, his voice softer now. “Y-you’ll still make me fried eggs tomorrow?”

Du Heng let out a small laugh, as if relieved. “Of course.”

Xiaoman raised an eyebrow. “I have a quick temper. Don’t take it to heart.”

“I haven’t. I just don’t want you to overthink it.”

“All right, then sleep,” Xiaoman said, adding deliberately, “You go back inside to sleep; I’ll stay here.”

The next morning, Xiaoman woke to the smell of cooking. Du Heng had already fried eggs for him—golden, crisped in oil, fragrant and warm, a treat usually reserved for birthdays.

Being the only child in the Qin family, he remembered such meals when both fathers were alive—home was full of laughter and joy during holidays and birthdays. After his father passed, he hardly ever had fried eggs again, both because no one made them and because he was always busy with the work in the fields and mountains.

Xiaoman carried the eggs to a bench near the stove, letting go of the displeasure from the previous night.

Outside, it was still dim, the sky gray, but not yet fully dawn. As winter approached, mornings grew later, nights earlier, leaving far less daylight for work than in summer.

Xiaoman watched Du Heng use an elm branch to clean his teeth under the eaves. He wiped his own mouth, rinsed with water, and said, “I’ll go check which households need firewood. I’ll call them over, then come back to get our tools.”

“All right.”

He stepped into the faint morning light, heading to the families who were poorest in the valley. Asking them for help and delivering firewood in the off-season was a good deed.

“Xiaoman, already out this early?”

Someone called from the fields. Xiaoman saw Cui Qiuyue picking vegetables—likely to cook noodles at home. “Qiuyue, has Doctor Cui returned?”

The girl straightened. Though the same age as Xiaoman, her skin was fair, making her look younger. “Yes. He got back yesterday after the household census.”

Xiaoman was pleased. “That’s great!”

Du Heng fed the chickens in the courtyard, poured hot water into the basin Xiaoman had used for laundry yesterday, and began scrubbing clothes under the eaves.

“A grown man washing clothes for his wife—so funny!”

Du Heng looked up at the laughter, noticing two children outside. They seemed familiar.

Realizing they had been the ones complaining about Xiaoman stealing their chestnuts, he called out, “Which family are you two from?”

The children paused, glancing at each other. “We’re from Shanjupu,” one replied. They didn’t know the exact location, only that it was “just up ahead” and had a large rice paddy.

Du Heng immediately recognized the name—Xiaoman had shown him the largest paddy before. “So that’s Shanjupu.”

“Mm.”

“Do you know the village well?” Du Heng asked.

The taller boy snorted. “We’ve grown up here. Of course we know it.”

“Really? You even know what each family does for a living, who’s rich, who’s poor?”

“Not just that—who eats meat at night, who has no rice in their granary, we know all that.”

Du Heng knew they were exaggerating but nodded anyway. Then he asked, “Do you like chestnuts, roasted?”

The children hesitated, neither refusing nor daring to ask outright. Du Heng could read them—they wore patched clothes, clearly from families that didn’t buy snacks.

“The gate’s open. Come in.”

The children exchanged glances, then hesitantly entered the courtyard. Children were naturally curious; they looked around, noting how big Xiaoman’s home seemed. They remembered visiting when both Mr. and Mrs. Qin were alive, but had rarely come since Xiaoman was left alone.

“This is Xiaoman’s house? So big! Isn’t he afraid to live here by himself?”

“His courage’s big. Last time, Brother Ah Hu tried to fight him and lost.”

The taller child continued, “It’s usually safe. But remember last winter when a thief came to the village at night, stealing from granaries? Scary! He snuck into Xiaoman’s house, but since he was alone, the thief didn’t dare to act.”

“And then what happened?”

The two were deep in conversation when Du Heng’s voice cut in.

“The thief didn’t get anything and got beaten by Xiaoman. When Second Uncle heard the noise of the gong, he grabbed a slaughtering knife and came over. The thief was taken straight to the authorities.”

“After the autumn harvest, thieves and robbers are a problem every year. Everyone has to be careful.”

Du Heng frowned at the children’s story.

“But now that the eldest has come as a son-in-law, thieves won’t dare enter the house recklessly, seeing more people around.”

Du Heng relaxed at this, smiling as he handed each child a warm chestnut. The roasted nuts on the stove were still hot from breakfast. He occasionally ate a few himself, but he wasn’t a child and didn’t crave them as much.

The children, delighted by the crunchy shells and soft, sweet insides, immediately peeled and ate them.

“I can’t get around much, so you two can come chat with me whenever you like,” he said kindly.

Like having a grandmother around, the children immediately warmed to Du Heng. “All right! We won’t say bad things about you or Xiaoman anymore.”

Du Heng chuckled.

“Husband, come out quickly—Doctor Cui is back!”

The children hadn’t finished their chestnuts but ran off toward the call, clearly intimidated by Xiaoman.