Du Heng followed Xiaoman into one of the rooms. The Qin house was the common “dustpan” layout: three sides of buildings around a courtyard. The main hall faced east, flanked by two bedrooms.
The left bedroom, level with the hall, was Xiaoman’s, next to the kitchen. The right bedroom had belonged to his parents. Though the two elders had passed, the room was still locked, preserved as it had been.
The remaining room, across the courtyard from the kitchen, was near the animal pen. It wasn’t shabby, though occasionally the sounds of pigs could be heard.
Du Heng looked over the room. Xiaoman, being tidy, had stored some odds and ends neatly in the corners. For these conditions, Du Heng was satisfied. He craned his neck, inspecting the roof. “Looks good. I don’t see any leaks.”
“This room was for my little brother who never got born,” Xiaoman said, a bit sourly. “Everything was prepared, but it’s been empty so long it lacks the warmth of daily life. My own room next to the kitchen is much warmer in winter.”
Du Heng smiled. “Doesn’t matter—I’m not afraid of the cold.”
Xiaoman realized reasoning with him was useless. He pressed his lips together. “Fine, suit yourself.”
He brushed some dust off the bed. The bed had a canopy and wasn’t too dirty. Xiaoman laid a one-finger-thick quilted sheet on the wooden bed, then tossed a heavy cotton blanket on top. “There, make it yourself and sleep.”
Du Heng looked at the neatly made bed. “Thank you.”
Xiaoman went to the door, leaning halfway out, raising an eyebrow at him. “If you get cold at night, come sleep in my room. There’s a small couch in the bedroom too.”
Du Heng glanced at the bed. “This is fine.”
Xiaoman rolled his eyes and shrugged. That was that.
After a long day, Du Heng latched the door and finally relaxed. He lay down on the bed, exhausted, and soon fell asleep despite lingering worries.
Outside, the winter wind howled through the bare branches, slapping against the roof like a wild creature’s roar.
In the countryside, the fields were open, unlike the city streets where houses stood close, gathering warmth. In cold years, beggars often didn’t survive winter; most homes were just ordinary rural households.
At midnight, Du Heng shivered. He had been woken by the cold. The wind and rain rattled the black tiles above. His breath misted in the air. He climbed out of bed, the wooden boards stiffening his shoulders and back. Every movement creaked.
A young man might tolerate a harder bed, but one used to a soft mattress would struggle with pure wooden planks.
He adjusted the canopy over the bed, tucked in, and tried to warm himself. Yet the gaps in the stone-and-mud walls let wind through. Even with the door closed, the bed curtain swayed.
He had expected winter to be harsh in these limited conditions, but it was far harsher than imagined.
His feet felt as if pulled from an ice cellar. If he weren’t exhausted, he wouldn’t have fallen asleep so quickly. He bent his legs, pressing his feet against the warm part of his body, feeling comfort for a moment, yet the warmth faded fast.
His injured feet, chilled, sent stabbing pain through his legs, tossing him into restless sleep.
Du Heng gritted his teeth, enduring the cold, the pain around his ankles, and the hard wooden bed, suffering silently through the night.
He stared at the top of the bed curtain, not knowing if he could endure such a cold, desolate night. If he died in this room, it would be somewhat unlucky, and it might scare that little boy.
He didn’t know how much time had passed, but it seemed he heard the sound of someone knocking on the door.
The sound was not loud, with some cautious, testing meaning.
Du Heng’s brow moved. He climbed out of bed, crossed his arms, and gritted his teeth as he went to open the door.
As soon as the door opened, he saw Qin Xiaoman standing at the doorway with a black face, holding an oil lamp.
“Not asleep yet?”
Qin Xiaoman lifted a round container with one hand. Du Heng recognized it as a hot-water container.
Qin Xiaoman did not say much and went into the room, placing the hot-water container at the foot of the bed. He reached his hand into the blanket and touched a cold spot, immediately realizing that this person had suffered from the cold.
“You went to sleep just now with cold feet—couldn’t you be cold?”
Du Heng pressed his lips together tightly: “What time is it? How are you still not asleep?”
Qin Xiaoman said: “My room is warm; I went to sleep early. Passing by outside when getting up in the night, I heard the sound of you turning over.”
Du Heng’s brow moved. With his legs not functional, he did not turn over much in bed. Moreover, in such cold, turning over a few times would make the warmth in the blanket completely disappear.
Although he was surprised, he would not know that Qin Xiaoman had been lying in bed, waiting for him to embarrass himself, shyly coming over to sleep. In the end, even at midnight, he did not hear any movement.
So, annoyed, he got up, made a fire, and poured water into a hot-water container.
No matter what, seeing the hot-water container, Du Heng felt as if he had been saved.
“Does your room have a hot-water container?”
“You’re so cold yourself and still care about me? Could my room be cold?”
Qin Xiaoman glared at Du Heng and felt very annoyed in his heart.
What kind of person is this? Freezing to death himself, yet refusing to come to his room. How much disdain must he have for him?
Actually, he wasn’t the type to hastily hand himself over. If Du Heng were enthusiastic and smooth-talking, he definitely would have guarded against him, and at night would have put two more locks on the door.
But this person was different from ordinary men, acting like a young unmarried lady. This made Qin Xiaoman feel a little excited inside, secretly wanting to see how he would finally give in.
He placed the hot-water container down. When he looked up, he saw Du Heng inhaling sharply from the cold and rubbing his back behind his hands. Seeing that his clumsy foot wasn’t flat on the ground, he couldn’t help frowning: “Feet hurt?”
“A little.”
“Back hurts too?”
Du Heng gave an awkward smile.
Qin Xiaoman snorted lightly: “Not used to hard bed boards, and you really are born a young master.”
After saying this, he left the room. Du Heng thought he had gone back to his room to sleep. Just as he thought he could now sleep well with the hot-water container, Qin Xiaoman returned carrying a large bundle of straw.
Seeing Du Heng about to close the door, he raised an eyebrow: “Sealing it so tightly, I won’t be able to eat you.”
Qin Xiaoman walked over in a few steps, lifted the already-made bed, and laid the autumn-harvested, dried straw on the wooden bed board. Actually, the bed should have been laid with straw for Du Heng earlier. Adding straw to the bed board not only made it less hard to sleep on, but also much warmer.
But deliberately wanting him to endure some hardship, he had not laid the straw before. Seeing the person suffer from the cold and risk aggravating his foot injury, he felt somewhat guilty.
Not only did he lay the straw, he also brought another blanket. There were only two quilts in the house, no more. Although the blanket was less than a finger thick, it could at least make it a bit warmer.
Then he brought in a charcoal brazier.
If it weren’t midwinter, around this time in the lunar calendar, Qin Xiaoman wouldn’t have been willing to use the charcoal brazier. Charcoal could be taken to the city to sell; if one worked diligently, selling more to the charcoal shop, the money earned over a winter could buy two bags of salt.
But seeing Du Heng so pitiful, the young master fallen on hard times, suffering, it was harder to bear than someone who had grown up enduring hardship.
Du Heng looked at the room with the charcoal brazier, the bed softened, and it indeed became a little warmer.
He looked at Qin Xiaoman, hands on his waist, face seeming impatient, somewhat like Qin Xiong today. He lowered his head and hid the smile in his eyes.
“Sleep, it should be warm now. Tomorrow morning I will go to Doctor Cui’s house to have him look at your feet.”
Du Heng nodded, and Qin Xiaoman, now satisfied, went back to sleep.
After a bit of tossing and turning in the room, in the night, through the bed curtain, Du Heng could vaguely see the firelight in the charcoal brazier outside, and at the foot of the bed, the hot-water container radiated heat.
He slept well through the night.
The next day, in his sleep, Du Heng seemed to hear the clattering of pots and pans, and the sound of bamboo sticks snapping in the stove, as if someone was cooking.
The sound did not continue long, and in the rain it was a little faint.
He had slept enough on the warm bed before opening his eyes, and upon seeing the ceiling, he remembered where he was.
Lifting the curtain, a cold wind struck him. Though it was overcast and rainy, it was already daylight.
He quickly put on his clothes and trousers. Opening the side door, he stepped into the courtyard, but the morning chill was severe. Especially after getting out of the warm bed just now, he chose to go around the house.
Du Heng saw that the kitchen door was open, and walked quickly. The rice pot in the stove was still steaming, but he did not see Qin Xiaoman.
He looked around inside, called out twice, but no one responded. He thought the person was truly not at home.
So he returned to the kitchen and sat under the stove, warming himself while waiting for someone to return. It was so cold early in the morning. He wondered where the person had gone.
He usually woke early, always at seven. He had long heard sounds in the kitchen. He wondered how early Qin Xiaoman had gotten up.
Just as he was craning his neck to look out the window, he heard voices from outside the courtyard.
“You come over for a walk too?”
“The child was insisting on eating noodles, so I pulled two stalks of scallions from the field to make noodles.”
The woman glanced at the person holding the scallions, smiling: “I heard that Young Master Xiaoman brought a man home to be his in-law son, and he’s a cripple. This is really lively!”
“Who did you hear that from?”
“Who else but Young Master Xiaoman’s second aunt? Could she be lying? Qin Tuzi was so angry he came over and beat someone already.”
“Finding a cripple, could it not be annoying? If it were my family’s young master, he would have been beaten to death already. This is exactly being without father and mother’s care, it’s also mischief. His second uncle kindly took him over to care for him, and he nearly had a fight with his second aunt, insisting on being alone.”
“But speaking again, what kind of person could Young Master Xiaoman’s temper find? Only a cripple could be acceptable. Looking at it this way, he’s not much better than that old widower the matchmaker told him about before.”
“The person previously had a good relationship with Zhao Qi, where would he be willing to accept an old one?”
Du Heng didn’t see anyone, but could hear the voices of gossip. Village women’s voices were naturally loud. Standing outside the courtyard and speaking, it could be heard inside the house.
Hearing this, it seemed they specifically came to see him for entertainment.
Du Heng looked at the fine rain outside. Rainy days were the most idle; whenever any household had something happening, people loved to come watch the excitement.
The last time he had been surrounded like this was during a big meeting. This time, being surrounded was because he had become an in-law son. He couldn’t help touching his nose, feeling somewhat complicated.
Just as he was thinking whether he should go out to handle one or two, a clear, impatient curse came from outside: “What are you looking at! Haven’t you ever seen a man?”