Chapter 30

Du Heng’s hand trembled slightly as he turned from kneading dough to look at Qin Xiaoman standing in the doorway, eyes intense. “Why all of a sudden?”

Qin Xiaoman, catching his breath, tossed the vegetables on the counter. “Just tell me.”

Du Heng set aside his work, wiping his hands on his apron. He wanted to explain, but hesitated. “How can I say this in broad daylight… it’s embarrassing.”

Qin Xiaoman pouted but was not deterred. He grabbed Du Heng’s flour-dusted hand. “Tell me now!”

“Tonight,” Du Heng said.

“No! I want to know now!”

Qin Xiaoman wrapped his arms around Du Heng’s waist, holding him close so he couldn’t get back to his work.

Finally, Du Heng relented. “Wash your hands first,” he said, and Qin Xiaoman let go.

While Du Heng cleaned his hands, he considered how to explain the matter properly. Once ready, he called Qin Xiaoman back into the house.

Seeing Qin Xiaoman’s expectant eyes, like an innocent fawn, Du Heng felt his own cheeks warm. He leaned close, whispering a few words into Qin Xiaoman’s ear.

Qin Xiaoman tilted his head slightly, lifting his ear to catch every word, brushing against Du Heng’s soft lips. The warm breath from his words caressed his ear like a spring breeze over a river, sending ripples through him.

“Understand now?”

　　Du Heng pursed his lips after speaking, his ears already flushed crimson.

“Huh?”

Qin Xiaoman stared at Du Heng, blinking guiltily. He hadn’t taken in a single word.

“…

　　Du Heng paused, realizing his phrasing might have been too subtle for the lad to grasp.

He couldn’t help but feel a headache coming on. Teaching this sort of thing always seemed tricky, especially when the teacher was both thin-skinned and lacking experience.

“How about this? I’m heading to the county town anyway to buy some grafting seeds. I’ll pick up some books for you while I’m there.”

　　Du Heng placed his palm on Qin Xiaoman’s slender back, soothing and negotiating.

“Will the books talk about this?”

“They will.”

　　Du Heng affirmed with certainty.

Qin Xiaoman was impatient. He wanted to know right now, but seeing the troubled look on his husband’s face, he understood.

He should have just told Cui Qiuyue—Du Heng didn’t know these things.

And she’d even told him men were born knowing.

“Then I’ll go buy them myself.”

　　“No need. I’ll go.”

Qin Xiaoman scratched the back of his head. Going to the county town wasn’t exactly hard work, so he didn’t argue with Du Heng: “Fine, then I’ll give you money.”

Du Heng ruffled Qin Xiaoman’s tousled hair: “I have money. The book won’t cost much.”

Especially not this kind of lowbrow book.

　　On ordinary days without urgent business, he wouldn’t go to the county town. Today wasn’t a market day either, but Qin Xiaoman still urged Du Heng to make the trip, insisting he bring the items back home.

　　Qin Xiaoman naturally obeyed.

“I’ll be quick. Grab your basket and go dig some wild greens at the mountain foot. I’ll make you dumplings again.”

Qin Xiaoman nodded happily at this. He’d already gotten his wish for noodles this morning, and fresh meat dumplings made him even happier.

　　Du Heng knew her temperament well. If he left her alone, she’d inevitably pace anxiously at home waiting. Better to give her something to occupy her time and ease her impatience.

By March, the variety of wild greens growing was already increasing.

　　Shepherd’s purse, alfalfa, water celery, dandelions, and plantain all sprouted one after another.

For families with small plots, the vegetables from their fields weren’t enough to feed everyone. They had to dig up spring wild greens to fill their bellies. With the able-bodied men out in the fields, it fell to the women, children, and elders to go foraging.

　　First, the wild greens were tender and free. Second, spring plowing was a long, grueling task. The women in charge of meals had to find every way to keep their laborers well-fed, for only then could they hope for a good autumn harvest.

　　In years past, Qin Xiaoman had no time for foraging. Her own fields demanded constant attention, leaving no room for other tasks. During spring plowing, she worked day and night just to keep pace with the season’s demands.

　　But now his life had improved. He ate three meals a day without fail. When he pulled the ox home, hot meals awaited him just like in other households. This year, he’d even plowed up the fallow land.

　　When he reached the mountain foot with his basket, he saw many villagers scattered about like cabbages growing in the fields—one crouched here, another there.

With his small shovel, he dug up tender wild greens one by one, shaking off the soil on rocks before tossing them into his basket.

　　Qin Xiaoman had expected few people, but found it surprisingly bustling.

The overgrown grassland at the foot of the mountain was now trampled flat, marked everywhere by fresh soil turned by shovels. He’d hoped to dig up some fragrant shepherd’s purse for filling, but judging by the scene, finding even two decent ones would be lucky.

　　Villagers digging greens craned their necks at the newcomer, murmuring, “What’s Man doing here? Does his family need two more wild greens to eat?”

“Who knows? Just being shrewd, coming to compete with us for scraps. Doesn’t care about the poor at all.”

　　As they whispered among themselves, someone bellowed, “Man-er, I hear your family plowed all their fields this year. So much land—how can you possibly farm it all alone?”

　　Qin Xiaoman looked up to see Kong Jialang, a cousin from his mother’s side whom he called Uncle.

Years ago, when his father died, Uncle had asked to borrow land for farming. He only mentioned borrowing, never discussing compensation. Qin Xiaoman suspected he wanted it for free, so naturally he refused.

　　Seeing he was hard to deal with, the man changed his tune, offering one shi of grain per mu from the harvest. Qin Xiaoman knew their poor soil yielded no more than two shi per mu. How could this uncle be so generous? He suspected ulterior motives and refused to lend the land, letting it lie fallow instead.

　　While his approach was decisive if not entirely considerate, it spared future disputes over the land. Qin Xiaoman had seen enough cases where unreasonable people borrowed land from relatives, only to claim it as their own after cultivation.

　　Qin Xiaoman didn’t know if his aunt’s husband saw him as weak and vulnerable and harbored similar thoughts. In any case, years passed, and he still coveted his land. All these years, though he hadn’t succeeded, he never stopped talking behind his back about how domineering and unfilial Qin Xiaoman was. He probably thought Qin Xiaoman didn’t know.

　　Now that Xia Du Heng had arrived and the land had been plowed up, all hope was lost. Naturally, he couldn’t help but speak with a bitter edge.

“I’m married now. How could I be alone?”

　　Kong Fulang chuckled. “I saw your little husband at the banquet. Such delicate skin and complexion—if you hadn’t said so, I’d have thought he was a young master. He couldn’t even stand after two cups of wine. How could he possibly wield a hoe and plow your fields?”

　　The others laughed along at the teasing remark.

Qin Xiaoman didn’t get angry. She liked Du Heng just the way he was. If he were tall and burly, she wouldn’t have looked at him twice.

“He bought me an ox, so he won’t have to exert much effort.”

　　After saying this, Qin Xiaoman turned to Kong Fulang: “Didn’t my auntie’s third son also get engaged? I bet the dowry was pretty hefty, right?”

Kong Fulang was caught off guard by the counterquestion. His expression turned awkward as he replied sourly, “Our family is poor. We can’t compare to yours.”

　　Qin Xiaoman retorted bluntly, “Then why do you look down on my husband? I’d assumed my uncle’s son-in-law was exceptional. But from what you say, it seems my uncle has such high standards he can’t find a man worthy enough.”

　　Kong Fulang’s face flushed red then drained pale, and he said nothing more.

Onlookers around him stifled giggles behind covered mouths.

Kong Fulang, utterly humiliated, simply slung his basket over his arm and headed for another patch of land.

Qin Xiaoman gave a light snort and continued digging wild greens alone for a while longer before heading home in the late afternoon.

　　As luck would have it, she had barely stepped into the courtyard when Du Heng returned.

He hurried to meet her. “Well? Did you get it?”

Du Heng gave a slight nod.

“Then give it to me quickly!”

Du Heng pressed down on Qin Xiaoman’s hand. ” I’m still carrying things. What’s the rush?”

Qin Xiaoman quickly took the bag from Du Heng and ran into the house.

Du Heng had brought back a pound of fresh pork, some bean seeds, and a small sack filled with assorted items. Qin Xiaoman estimated by feel that the sack weighed two or three pounds.

　　Though curious about Du Heng’s purchases, his heart yearned more urgently for the book. Back when his father had tried to teach him to read and write, he’d turn and run. Yet now he was frantically demanding the book—it was truly hard to explain.

　　Du Heng pulled a finger-thick booklet from his bosom. Before he could offer it, Qin Xiaoman snatched it away.

He frantically unfolded it, skipping straight to the middle pages.

Burying his head in the book, he scanned its contents. Suddenly, his eyes widened. With a sharp snap, he slammed the book shut.

　　His eyes widened, staring at Du Heng like a deer caught in headlights. He swallowed hard, frozen in place.

Du Heng saw the shock and disbelief in those eyes. He guessed the boy must have flipped straight to the illustrations. Clearing his throat, he reached out to take the book back. “Did it startle you?”

　　Qin Xiaoman’s mind was filled with the image of the intertwined figures in the book—silhouettes without faces. As he looked down at Du Heng’s face, he instinctively superimposed it onto the blank figure’s face. Suddenly, his cheeks grew warm.

No wonder Du Heng had wanted to lie on top of him on their wedding night.

　　For the first time ever, he felt a flicker of embarrassment mixed with excitement. Clutching the book under his arm, he stammered, “I’ll look at it myself. You… you go ahead and roll out the dough. Once it’s ready, I’ll join you to make the dumplings.”

Du Heng squeezed Qin Xiaoman’s hand. “We’ll look at it tonight.”

　　Qin Xiaoman shoved Du Heng straight toward the kitchen: “Hurry up! I’m already hungry.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he darted back inside.

Du Heng stood rooted to the spot, watching Qin Xiaoman scamper off like a monkey, then glanced at the handful of wild greens in the basket.

　　He sighed helplessly. He’d truly become nothing more than a tool.

　　For dinner, they’d had stir-fried meat. Normally, Qin Xiaoman wouldn’t rest until he’d done several chores that evening, feeling guilty otherwise for having eaten such a meal.

But tonight was different.

Usually, Du Heng would go to his room first, and Qin Xiaoman would linger outside for a while before heading in. Tonight, however, he insisted on warming Du Heng’s bed first.

　　Du Heng understood his little scheme but didn’t call him out on it. He let Qin Xiaoman go first, finishing his own washing and locking the door before entering.

Upon entering the room, he saw the man lying on his side on the bed. The quilt was puffed up where he lay, and a pair of eyes followed him as he moved.

If it were a puppy, it would surely be wagging its tail right now.

　　Du Heng slipped off his outer robe. Qin Xiaoman’s eyes never left him as he climbed into bed.

“You…” Du Heng faltered. “You understand?”

Qin Xiaoman hurriedly replied, “No one ever told me any of this before. I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

　　Du Heng stroked Qin Xiaoman’s hair. “I thought you knew.”

He slipped into the warm bedding, pulling Qin Xiaoman back down with him as she tried to rise.

“You were bold from the moment I first saw you. Always touching and grabbing—did you really not understand? Hmm?”

　　Qin Xiaoman fell silent. If he’d known earlier that things like this existed between men and young boys, he might not have been so shamelessly indiscriminate.

“My father passed away early. I only know bits and pieces.”

　　Qin Xiaoman stretched his arm out from under the covers, rolling up his sleeve to expose his wrist.

　　Du Heng grasped the wheat-colored arm. Though usually strong from labor, the bare limb beneath the missing outer garment was surprisingly slender.

The small, crabapple-red mole on the wrist drew his gaze. His fingertips drifted lightly over it.

　　The raised texture against the smooth skin reminded him this was a mole unique to young men. As he touched it, a hint of sensual thought stirred within him.

“I thought this mole wouldn’t fade even after marriage. I worried something was wrong with my body. If I hadn’t run into Qiu Yue from Doctor Cui’s family today, I’d still be in the dark.”

　　Du Heng exhaled in relief, grateful it was the doctor’s family he’d encountered. “Tell me anything that troubles you from now on. We’ll face it together. I’m your husband, not an outsider.”

“Mm.”

Qin Xiaoman felt warmth spread through her heart and nuzzled Du Heng’s cheek affectionately.

　　Before Du Heng could linger in the moment, Xiaoman suddenly reached under the pillow with her other hand and pulled out the finger-thick book she’d been looking at earlier.

“I don’t know many characters. I did look through the picture book today, but there are so many words I don’t recognize. Sometimes there are over a dozen unfamiliar characters in just two lines, and I can’t understand the important parts in between.”

　　Qin Xiaoman opened the book. “Will you teach me to recognize them?”

Du Heng felt slightly awkward, but he recalled Qin Xiong mentioning that Xiaoman had been mischievous and unstudious since childhood. Her proactive request to learn now was a rare display of initiative.

Moreover, with such a soft, gentle plea, he could only respond with a simple, “Sure.”

　　Qin Xiaoman nestled into Du Heng’s embrace, turning sideways to open the book immediately. With the teacher present, she could finally read it through properly.

Du Heng lay on his side alongside Qin Xiaoman, his arm circling her waist.

　　Xiaoman remained silent, not speaking to him. His gaze drifted silently from the boy’s head down to the book.

　　In my youthful recklessness, I’d hidden under the covers with my phone to browse some explicit content and movies. But learning alongside someone—especially when that someone is your significant other—takes the thrill to a whole new level.

Du Heng’s face flushed first. He was about to avert his gaze.

But his sleeve tugged. The studious fellow’s finger landed on the page: What do these two characters mean? There are too many strokes; I don’t recognize them.”

“…….”

“Hurry up and tell me!”

Du Heng’s flushed face spoke volumes of his reluctance, but under the urging, two words finally slipped out.

“Suck.”

　　Qin Xiaoman pondered thoughtfully: “How exactly does one suck? Why not include an illustration here with a special annotation? It would be so much clearer. My father used to annotate his books that way when he studied.”

Listening to the grumbling reproach, Du Heng cleared his throat: “This is a lowbrow book. How could it compare to the poetry and classics Mr. Qin studies?”

　　Qin Xiaoman snorted softly, returning his gaze to the pages.

Moments later: “Then what about this? What does ‘top’ mean?”

Du Heng stared at the words “top, thrust, and penetrate” on the page. His mouth opened, but the words stuck in his throat. Closing his lips, he closed his eyes as well.

　　Qin Xiaoman, puzzled by his silence, turned her head to look at the closed eyes. She gave him a sharp tap. “What are you doing? No sleeping!”

Du Heng’s cheeks flushed hot. He suddenly opened his eyes. “Xiaoman, even if I told you what this word means, you wouldn’t understand.”

　　Qin Xiaoman frowned. “Are you looking down on me?”

“Not at all. I just thought of a way to help you grasp its meaning.”

“Huh?” Qin Xiaoman’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

　　Du Heng cleared his throat, preparing her mentally in advance: “But… this is my first time doing something like this. I lack experience. If it hurts you or doesn’t meet your expectations, please bear with me.”

Qin Xiaoman blinked, her mind flashing with images of intertwined little figures. Before he could agree or refuse, someone had already taken action.

　　It was the first time she’d seen Du Heng so eager to get something done.