Dou Zhuang captured the pickpocket and earned credit at the authorities, faithfully passing along the dock’s ship arrival information to Shu Rui.
After two or three days, Shu Rui learned the afternoon schedule for incoming cargo ships. He carried his prepared meals and went to sell again.
Although it was dinner time, and dock workers weren’t obliged to buy like at midday, Shu Rui’s food was delicious. Many workers from far-off villages outside the city still bought their meals from him.
Some of the city folk even took two portions of food back home to eat.
By the time Shu Rui finished selling, the sautéed celery with meat, the pan-fried tofu with greens, and the radish stew had all been sold out, while a bit of the steamed mixed-grain rice remained.
It wasn’t that the rice, made with millet and sorghum, tasted bad—rather, many households in the city had only ordered the vegetable dishes, so the two didn’t match up.
At first, he had planned to keep the leftover rice for himself, but then two dock workers came along, still hungry, wanting more rice. Normally it would cost two copper coins extra, but seeing that little rice was left, Shu Rui gave them a fair deal—one coin each—and soon even the leftover rice was gone.
That evening, he earned seven hundred and twenty copper coins from dinner. After deducting costs, he still pocketed over six hundred coins. Not having to buy new ceramic bowls this time also reduced expenses, making it a smaller overhead than the first time.
Earning coins like this was satisfying, though cargo ships didn’t arrive every day. Timing it right wasn’t easy, and Shu Rui couldn’t quickly save enough to repair the shop.
Still, he was patient—making a single sale could earn five or six hundred coins. In two months, he would certainly have enough to buy new roof tiles.
That day, heavy rain fell. No ships came to the dock, so Lu Ling had no work, and Shu Rui didn’t go out to sell either.
The city streets were quiet in the rain, and the shops had little business.
With nothing to do, Shu Rui saw that the weather was heating up—June was approaching—so he took two bolts of cloth from Yang Chunhua’s shop, saying they were for making Lu Ling two sets of summer clothing.
Outside, rainwater streamed down the eaves, and Shu Rui set up a table to cut the fabric.
Lu Ling was in the main hall, hammering away at old furniture. These idle moments had him repairing worn tables and benches.
Some old pieces fell apart at a touch; others could hold together but creaked and groaned with use.
Lu Ling carefully sorted them: those beyond repair were chopped for firewood, while those still usable were fixed. Over a few days, he repaired four long benches, three short stools, and two square tables.
The remaining wood was turned into two long tables—one placed in Shu Rui’s room for storage, the other outside the kitchen for washing and cutting vegetables.
After a while, he took a break for tea and saw Shu Rui at the window, a piece of thread held in his mouth, bent slightly over the fabric as he measured and cut.
Lu Ling glanced over and didn’t return to the hall; instead, he quietly joined him.
The light was dim from the rain, so the window offered the best illumination.
“Perfect timing—come, I’ll measure you,” Shu Rui said.
Lu Ling spread his arms willingly.
His eyes fell on Shu Rui’s head. The black hair was glossy, soft, with a faint scent of jasmine.
“Make me another pair of pants,” he said.
Shu Rui measured his shoulders and waist. “Another pair? Why?”
“The old ones tore,” Lu Ling replied.
“I washed them yesterday and didn’t see any tears… Could they have torn just drying overnight?”
“You didn’t wash them properly,” Lu Ling said.
Shu Rui paused, staring at him. “How could that happen? If it were the outer clothes, worn rough in daily work, it would make sense…”
“I didn’t even wear them. They tore when I washed them.”
“….”
All that strength wasted on pants tearing while washing.
Shu Rui put away the measuring tape, didn’t argue, but picked out a soft, light-colored fabric.
His hands were quick; pants required little material and were easy to sew. He made two pairs at once, giving them to Lu Ling, telling him to wash them before wearing.
Lu Ling compared the pants on himself and noticed something missing.
After a moment, he asked, “No embroidery?”
Shu Rui pursed his lips. “Who wants to steal your work? If you want embroidery, do it yourself!”
He scolded Lu Ling lightly, recalling he didn’t know who had embroidered the previous ones. It seemed right to insist on embroidery, though it wasn’t critical before.
Lu Ling, seeing Shu Rui’s serious expression, didn’t understand why he suddenly seemed upset.
He quietly retrieved Shu Rui’s sewing box but didn’t leave the room, instead working on the embroidery there.
Shu Rui watched him fumble clumsily along the pant leg, raising his eyebrows higher in amusement.
He ignored Lu Ling and continued sewing himself.
One worked at the east side, one at the west, both absorbed in their tasks.
Rain tapped on the window, wind blew through the open pane, cooling the room.
Shu Rui finished the sleeves, rubbed his stiff eyes, and felt his neck and arms aching. He planned to continue in the evening but saw Lu Ling still sitting steadily, not slacking off.
He walked over, noticing the crooked embroidery on the pants. “Did you do the first one?”
The messy stitches resembled branches scattered by the wind, identical to the previous ones Shu Rui had seen—clearly the same hand.
Lu Ling asked, “Did I do well?”
Shu Rui suppressed a smile. “Very good.”
Lu Ling’s eyes brightened. “Then I’ll embroider your name too.”
Shu Rui blushed, stopping him. “No!”
He knew Lu Ling could do it, so he quickly put away the sewing box.
Lu Ling held onto it. “You don’t like my stitching.”
“I—I don’t,” Shu Rui said.
He couldn’t wrestle it away. “The room’s dim. Eyes hurt after looking too long.”
“Don’t stay cooped up—come help me make dumplings tonight.”
Finally, Lu Ling reluctantly let go. Shu Rui retrieved the scissors and thread, ushering him out.
By midday, Shu Rui had prepared dough, buying ingredients from the morning market: pickled vegetables, dried cabbage, fresh bamboo shoots, scallions, fresh pork, and a pound of shrimp.
Patiently, he made five fillings: pickled cabbage with vermicelli, dried cabbage with cured meat, fresh bamboo shoots with pork, scallion pork, and shrimp.
Though labor-intensive, Shu Rui didn’t mind the effort. In rainy weather, he enjoyed crafting food carefully.
“Stop wrapping! You make them like stones, with filling spilling out. You just love causing trouble,” Shu Rui said, patting Lu Ling’s flour-covered hands. Though his fingers were long and dexterous, they were clumsy with wrapping, and even after three tries, he couldn’t improve.
Taking advantage of Shu Rui’s inattention, Lu Ling pinched one of the already-round dumplings.
“You’re impossible!” Shu Rui exclaimed, holding the flattened dumpling, but Lu Ling’s quick feet got him away.
By late afternoon, the rain eased. Business at Yang Chunhua’s shop slowed, and she came over to speak with Shu Rui a couple of times.
The steam from the bamboo steamer filled the air, making the time pass quickly.
Later, Shu Rui checked the dumplings. They had puffed nicely.
Lu Ling, drawn by the aroma, hurried over, and the two watched the white mist rising from the buns.
Shu Rui picked one up with chopsticks, moistened his fingers in clean water, and tore it open. Inside was shrimp filling; the juice ran down the soft dough.
“Quick!” Shu Rui said, feeding it to Lu Ling.
The shrimp was fresh and springy, deliciously savory.
Shu Rui tasted one himself, noting it slightly saltier than intended—the filling had been too hastily salted—but it was still enjoyable.
Lu Ling quickly ate three, Shu Rui three, and Lu Ling’s appetite was twice as much.
Seeing Shu Rui hadn’t tried all five fillings, Lu Ling tore off the pieces Shu Rui hadn’t touched—scallion pork and dried cabbage with cured meat—so he could taste everything before eating the rest.
Full, Shu Rui set aside four buns for Madam Zhang, six for Yang Chunhua and her child, and four for Qing’er.
Lu Ling insisted on going along. Shu Rui let him. By the time they delivered the buns, the rain had stopped.
Twilight came early on rainy days. By the time they reached Qing’er’s inn, it was already dim.
Qing’er was busy in the back kitchen, and Shu Rui and Lu Ling waited outside.
A plump woman in her twenties came to the inn alone.
The clerk at the front desk, a fairly handsome young man, greeted her warmly and recorded her details.
However, the clerk, despite his fine appearance, glanced indiscreetly at her chest.
The woman, thinking him a polite, educated man, hadn’t noticed.
Shu Rui, standing under the eaves and keeping his head down, happened to see it all. His brows immediately furrowed. He could not abide this so-called respectable clerk—such a man was far more nauseating than those brazen scoundrels who openly flirted.
Shu Rui was about to storm in and teach the clerk a lesson when Lu Ling grabbed his arm.
With a subtle flick of his thumb against his middle finger, something flew through the air and struck the clerk squarely on the eyelid.
“Ah! My eye!”
The clerk yelped in pain, clutching his eye.
The woman staying at the inn, realizing too late that he had been leering at her the whole time, covered her chest in embarrassment and indignation. “Shameless! I’m not staying in this inn!”
“Wait, wait! Don’t go!”
The clerk, still covering his eye, tried to step out from behind the counter to stop her, but the stout woman innkeeper appeared from the back kitchen. Seeing the commotion, her expression changed instantly, and she went straight to grab the clerk’s ear.
“You restless fool! Is she tempting you, or are you tempting her? Explain yourself right now!”
The inn descended into chaos in an instant.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Qing’er darted out. Seeing Shu Rui, he was overjoyed and grabbed both his hands, shaking them. “Why are you bringing food again? I was busy and kept you waiting!”
Shu Rui replied, “I made plenty of buns. I didn’t know anyone else nearby, so I brought them to you—who else would I deliver to?”
“They’re still hot—eat while you can.”
Qing’er felt comforted. “I know… tonight’s bound to be lively; the clerk won’t have time to bother with me.”
Shu Rui couldn’t help scolding: “I thought that stout woman innkeeper had poor character, but seeing this, the other isn’t any better. You work here, so be careful—don’t be alone with him.”
Qing’er explained that the clerk had once been a penniless scholar. When the stout woman took an interest in him, he wasn’t in love but was drawn to her wealth and the chance to live well. They married, but the clerk never really integrated into her household. His meals and family expenses depended on her. He spoke little in daily life, and being rather unscrupulous, he sometimes did shameful things. The stout woman, jealous, kept a close eye on him to prevent him from being tempted by others.
Such incidents happened often.
Shu Rui sighed, both disgusted by their behavior and concerned for Qing’er. He also felt sympathy for the lone woman staying at the inn—traveling alone, it was unfortunate to encounter such a man in the dark.
After a few words, Shu Rui left.
On the way back, seeing Shu Rui’s lingering worry, Lu Ling said, “If you still feel upset, I can go deal with him again.”
Shu Rui laughed. “I’m not vengeful like that.”
He looked down at the puddles on the cobblestones and murmured, “I was only thinking of that woman. Without you along, who knows how much trouble there would have been.”
Lu Ling’s brows twitched. “I don’t know if I helped, but… as long as you don’t think I’m trouble, that’s enough.”
Shu Rui looked up at Lu Ling, his slender, sharp-featured face softened by the night and the streetlight. His gaze, directed at Shu Rui, seemed gentler.
For no reason, Shu Rui felt his heart stir, and he quickly averted his eyes.
“Shaoge’er, we were just talking about where you two went while not at home. Ah Xing wanted to see you.”
Hearing Yang Chunhua’s voice from afar, Shu Rui hurriedly responded, “Coming!” and ran off.
Lu Ling watched him go, feeling something strange stirring within—he couldn’t quite name it, but it made him feel warm, and he knew it was nothing bad.