That evening, they laid out dishes outside the kitchen and ate. Shu Rui had bought some “Mistaken Water” from the market.
The wine was mild and pleasant—young ladies often liked such light drinks. Shu Rui rarely drank it himself, preferring stronger wines like Dongting Spring, Rui Lu Wine, and Xuepei Wine, which he stored at home.
With the season right, Shu Rui also brewed some wine himself from grain and fruit. He hadn’t tasted it in a long while, and the first sip made him savor its flavor. He drank two bowls in a row and poured two more for Lu Ling.
The evening glow stretched across the sky. The stir-fried chicken giblets Xiang Jie had cooked smelled delicious; even eaten on their own, they paired well with the wine. The chicken blood was delicate, smooth, and rich.
“Why is your face so red?”
Shu Rui had eaten until half full. Seeing Lu Ling’s bowl empty, he refilled it for him, and when he looked up, Lu Ling’s face was flushed several shades deeper. He glanced at the sky—the sunset light hadn’t touched his face.
Curious, Shu Rui leaned closer to Lu Ling, tilting his head to examine his handsome, pale face now touched with a rare blush. It reminded him of scenes in novels where beauties were drunk.
He pursed his lips, teasing softly, “I didn’t know someone’s tolerance could be so low.”
Lu Ling looked up at him, eyes curved and sparkling, but the look was playful, teasing him. Embarrassed, he pushed away the fresh wine Shu Rui poured, refusing to drink more.
Shu Rui laughed. “No wonder last time with the roasted lamb, you barely touched the wine. I thought it was because Lady Yang was present, and you wouldn’t drink with the ladies. Turns out it was because of this.”
“I did drink,” Lu Ling replied, sneaking a sip from Shu Rui’s cup. “Even a little, and I’m feeling it—so you bought light wine?”
He picked up a chicken heart and fed it to Shu Rui, silencing him. Shu Rui tried to hold back laughter, but Lu Ling, frustrated, grabbed the wine jug, tilting it back and drinking it all.
“Hey! If you get drunk, I won’t be responsible!” Shu Rui exclaimed, rushing to grab the jug, but Lu Ling spun, leaving him empty-handed. Within moments, the jug was empty, and Shu Rui could only sigh.
Just from eating dinner, Lu Ling’s face burned red with heat. Shu Rui, worried he might be over-intoxicated, called for him to rest, but Lu Ling calmly stood, cleared the dishes, and headed to wash them.
“Go sleep if you’re drunk. I’ll wash the bowls myself,” Shu Rui said, trying to stop him. But Lu Ling’s strength seemed even greater than usual—Shu Rui’s two arms together couldn’t match a fraction of Lu Ling’s.
“I’ll do it—you’ve worked all day.”
“Even if I work all day, washing a few bowls isn’t a problem.”
Ignoring Shu Rui, Lu Ling carried the bowls to the kitchen. Shu Rui, realizing he couldn’t win, crossed his arms and shook his head, letting him continue.
He returned to get a bucket of hot water for bathing. Just as he entered, a sharp “crash, crash” echoed—startling him.
Rushing out, he saw a pile of broken pottery on the kitchen floor: dinner bowls shattered into pieces. His head spun. “Lu Ling!! How are we supposed to live like this?!”
Lu Ling, brow furrowed, nervously fetched a broom to clean up, muttering, “I’ll buy new ones tomorrow.”
Shu Rui’s head throbbed as he stepped closer and saw a cut along Lu Ling’s finger, blood smeared over half his hand.
“Stop sweeping! Don’t you see you’re bleeding?”
“No matter.”
Shu Rui grabbed his arm and dragged him inside. Using some basic medicine he had bought from Dexin Clinic, he cleaned and bandaged the cut.
“I’m fine,” Lu Ling muttered, staring at Shu Rui’s stern face, fearing he’d be angry.
Shu Rui finished wrapping the bandage and, seeing him stubborn and foolish, couldn’t resist patting his forehead.
“Always trying to be tough. Getting hurt is getting hurt. Not afraid of pain? Are you really not?”
Lu Ling’s gaze stayed fixed on Shu Rui. The warm glow of the oil lamp made the room seem even cozier. Instinctively, Lu Ling leaned slightly toward him.
The lamp flickered. Shu Rui quickly turned his face away, the faint scent of wine and soap lingering in his nose, his heart pounding.
Lu Ling’s brow shifted slightly as he watched Shu Rui avoid him, feeling something unspoken stir within.
“Can’t I?” Lu Ling asked softly.
Shu Rui’s face warmed. “The bandage is done… you’re drunk. Go to bed.”
“Even if I weren’t drunk, I’d still feel this way,” Lu Ling said as he was guided to the door. He paused, touching the bandaged finger gently before the door slammed shut behind him.
Shu Rui’s mind was in turmoil. It is said men drunk are unpredictable—but even this foolish boy was no exception. With previous handsome scholars he’d known, he had maintained composure. This time, he was flustered enough to almost knock over the lamp. He realized he might feel something different for Lu Ling.
He couldn’t allow it—Lu Ling had lost his memory, didn’t know his family or background. Shu Rui worried that a man like him might already have a predetermined marriage or family…
The thought made his feelings increasingly complex: fear, worry, and hesitation.
That night, Shu Rui barely slept.
Before dawn, with heavy fog outside, he went to Dexin Clinic to inquire about Doctor Yu. Returning, he saw Lu Ling standing silently at the back door, hair damp with mist.
“You… been standing out here? Hungry? I’ll—”
Before he could finish, Lu Ling interrupted, “I won’t drink again. Last night was drunken talk. Don’t be angry.”
“I’m not,” Shu Rui said, lowering his head slightly. “I know you were drunk.”
“I thought you were leaving.”
“You said even if I left, you’d find me…”
Shu Rui whispered, then quickly masked his concern with a smile. “Good news—I went to Dexin Clinic. Doctor Yu will return sooner than expected. By next month, he should be able to…”
“I can find you, but I can’t stop you from wanting to go,” Lu Ling cut in.
Shu Rui paused, surprised that Lu Ling responded only with that.
He looked at the courtyard and said firmly, “I won’t leave. This is my home. I’ll live well in Chaoxi Fu from now on.”
“And me?” Lu Ling asked.
Shu Rui pressed his lips together, avoiding eye contact. “When your memory returns, you’ll have your life too…”
Lu Ling looked at him silently.
Days passed, and it reached the end of May.
That evening, Shu Rui delivered meals to the academy. Yu Qiaosheng, settling accounts, said, “The academy’s kitchen will reopen the day after tomorrow with a new cook. The dining hall is being renovated. After that, there won’t be so many students crowding in for meals.”
Shu Rui had been running the academy business for almost ten days, rising early and staying up late, fetching vegetables, cooking, and running between the academy and the wharf. By night, he was exhausted. He occasionally wondered when life would ease, but the news that the kitchen would reopen made him feel satisfied—he knew this work couldn’t last forever.
“Thanks for letting me know, Yu Shi. In that case, I won’t sell food at the academy starting tomorrow. I appreciate your help these past days. When you’re free, do visit my little shop.”
Yu Qiaosheng felt some regret: Shu Rui’s departure meant less income for the academy and one less delicious meal, which he had enjoyed daily and found hard to tire of.
Shu Rui laughed: “If that’s the case, I’ll trouble you again someday.”
Returning to the inn, Shu Rui brought out the money box and counted his funds. Almost a full month had passed since arriving in Chaoxi Fu. The onions and small vegetables he had planted in jars had sprouted, turning green.
Days had flown busily by. Beyond the remaining ten or so guan, his side ventures had earned over six more, plus Lu Ling’s three-guan deposit, totaling roughly ten guan.
He wouldn’t touch Lu Ling’s money—it might be needed unexpectedly.
Thinking the academy business was ending and with money in hand, Shu Rui decided to repair the inn. At the very least, the west wing and the main hall’s roof needed attention.
Although they lived in the east wing during the day, protected from wind and rain, the west wing and main hall were like water curtains during heavy summer storms. Shu Rui worried that too much rain would seep in and rot the structure, so every downpour required him to fetch buckets and basins to collect the water.
The next day, he went to get roof tiles—five hundred in total—and, together with Lu Ling, began repairing the roof. By the following afternoon, all the tiles had been used, yet half the roof still remained unfinished. Shu Rui returned for another hundred tiles and finally completed the repair, spending over five guan in total. It stung his pocket—money was easy to spend but hard to earn—but the reward was a fully repaired shop, no longer vulnerable to rain.
He had also planned to repair the well while renovating, though at present buying water wasn’t inconvenient. Still, relying on someone to deliver water to fill the cistern cost one coin per two buckets—ten coins for a full cistern. In the summer, daily bathing used a lot of water, so this expense added up.
Shu Rui thought carefully: if he repaired the well sooner, he could cut this recurring cost. But asking around, even a modest repair would cost over two guan—a task requiring specialized skills, which naturally demanded a high price.
“Two guan just to fix a well? That’s as much as buying water for ages. Maybe it’s better just to keep buying water.”
Zhang Shenpo, having just received a bunch of grapes, offered Shu Rui a small cluster and, hearing about his search for well workers, commented: “It’s true, but for long-term business, the shop will need more water in the future.”
“That makes sense—repairing it now is more worthwhile. Go to the Wufeng Workshop in the northern part of the city; I heard they have a team specializing in village wells. Their work is efficient and the price’s cheaper.”
Shu Rui followed the advice and went to the north city. Luck favored him: the team had just returned from a village job and was free. They agreed to repair the well for two guan and five qian. Shu Rui tried haggling, but the foreman, surnamed Liu, grew impatient, warning that if another repair opportunity came along, they could reduce two qian more.
Shu Rui considered it—well repairs weren’t frequent like pounding rice, so he couldn’t promise another joint task. Then an idea struck him: his cellar also needed repair. “I have a cellar to fix too. One well and one cellar—two jobs together. Can you handle both?”
“Our team has well diggers and masons. We handle both,” Liu replied.
“Then that’s two jobs at once—not a wasted trip,” Shu Rui said, agreeing. Liu, finding it convenient to work in the city and stay close to his family, consented. They settled on three guan and two qian for both the well and cellar repairs.
Well repairs were no trivial matter: the old water had to be drained, walls reinforced, the well cleaned and disinfected, and sometimes even a ritual performed. Six men arrived, led by Foreman Liu, a man in his thirties with a small beard. Shu Rui felt reassured, seeing Liu’s meticulous approach.
The work began: first repairing the pulley, then drawing out the old water in buckets. Everyone worked diligently. Within an hour or two, the water was cleared, revealing a thick layer of silt and decomposed leaves at the bottom, ready to be scooped out.
This part was the most dangerous—someone had to descend into the well, shovel silt into a bucket, while those above hauled it up with the pulley. Liu selected a thin man, tied him with ropes, and carefully lowered him down. Shu Rui watched, relieved to see Liu checking the rope thoroughly and securing the knots.
As the sun rose, sweat poured like rain over the workers. Shu Rui set a fire to boil some bean water for the midday break.
Suddenly, a shout rang out: “The rope’s rotten! The stone at the wellhead’s cutting it!” Just then, a snap sounded—sure enough, the rope broke! The two men hauling the rope were thrown backward.
Shu Rui rushed out of the kitchen. A dark figure had leapt from the well. Limping from scraping his foot, he stumbled toward the well: “Lu Ling!”
The workers panicked, crowding the edge. A heavy thud echoed from the well—any fall from that height could be fatal.
“Zhu Da! Zhu Da! How will we explain this to his family?”
“Why did that boy go down too?!”
They quickly lowered another rope. Lu Ling, calm, had already descended, holding the unconscious Zhu Da and shaking him, but seeing no response, he called up, “Throw the rope down. Pull him up—he’s passed out.”
The workers obeyed. Lu Ling tied Zhu Da securely, and they hauled him out. Seeing Lu Ling’s skill, the workers relaxed.
Lu Ling then climbed up himself easily, using the rope. Shu Rui, watching, only breathed easier once both were safe. Both were unharmed, though Zhu Da was still unconscious and taken to the doctor.
Shu Rui, despite his limp, followed. Lu Ling helped him: “What happened?”
“Nothing—just kicked the threshold in a hurry,” Shu Rui said. His toenail had bled slightly, the bright red contrasting against his pale skin.
“You need to go to the clinic,” Lu Ling said, worry creasing his brow, lifting Shu Rui in his arms.
“Don’t—” Shu Rui protested, but Lu Ling, seeing his pain, quietly carried him anyway.
At the clinic, the doctor treated Shu Rui and Zhu Da. Zhu Da was fine, just fainted from the scare. Shu Rui had the only real injury.
Foreman Liu apologized to Shu Rui, and Lu Ling received thanks for his timely help.
Had Lu Ling not acted, Zhu Da would have likely suffered broken arms or legs from the fall. Shu Rui, however, didn’t harbor anger—not out of saintly kindness, but because such work was inherently risky.
“Everyone’s safe—that’s what matters. No one meant harm, and accidents happen. If someone had been seriously hurt, it would be hard on the foreman, the workers’ families, and ourselves.”
Liu was surprised by Shu Rui’s understanding. He had expected a sharp, demanding man, but Shu Rui proved reasonable. They exchanged a few more words before leaving.
The next morning, Zhu Da came bearing a basket of eggs and two jars of fragrant, homemade preserved meat for Lu Ling, in gratitude for saving him. Shu Rui had assumed it would be wine, but it was thoughtful food. The gesture, though not extravagant, spoke volumes.
In the following days, the work on the well became much more cautious. Finally, the well and cellar were repaired, and when Liu collected payment, he even reduced it by two qian. Shu Rui had intended to pay the agreed amount, but Liu insisted, refusing the extra.
When it came time to leave, they even called for Lu Ling to come along for food and drink, but he refused.
Foreman Liu had initially thought he might use the meal as a chance to persuade Lu Ling to work for the workshop. From the day Zhu Da fell into the well, Liu had quietly noticed him—young, but quick and capable, with a remarkable composure. In that dangerous situation, while everyone else was panicked, Lu Ling had reacted swiftly, descending into the well to save someone. Such presence of mind naturally earned Liu’s respect.
Seeing that Lu Ling declined the meal, maintaining his usual calm demeanor, Liu was not offended. Instead, he said, “Our work is skilled labor—not likely to make you rich, but diligent effort will earn a fair bit. If you ever wish to join, come find me anytime.”
Once Liu left, Shu Rui, who had been listening nearby, approached with a wry smile. “Seems everyone wants him. Even asking around, you’ve gone straight to the source yourself.”
Lu Ling looked at Shu Rui: “Really in demand, yet I never saw you compete for him.”
Shu Rui blinked, sensing a hint of complaint in Lu Ling’s tone. What right did he have to compete, after all?
Author’s note: Shu Rui—It was mine all along, why would I need to fight for it? [helpless]