Chapter 41:

Chunfu didn’t expect Jinjuan to actually bring her a few leek and egg buns, which surprised and warmed her heart. With her small appetite, two were enough. The two sat together chatting for a long while, and the stiffness Jinjuan once carried was completely gone.

“Zhao Si kept nagging and trying to control everything, even raising his hand at me. I grabbed a kitchen knife and swung at him—that shut him up. Isn’t he just a spineless coward like you said? I’ve realized this method works. Once you’re not afraid of death, your courage grows. If they dare provoke me, I’ll return it in kind.”

Chunfu looked at Jinjuan, whose face still held traces of youthful innocence, and couldn’t help but laugh. “If they knew I was the troublemaker who turned a quiet girl like you into such a fierce one, they’d probably come after me.”

Jinjuan laughed too, then sighed after a long pause. “I’ll just live like this for now until I figure out a way to support myself. Zhao Si and I are innocent—we sleep an arm’s length apart at night. My conscience is clear. Honestly, I wish he’d open his eyes and divorce me. If not, I’ll scare him into an early grave.”

Chunfu glared at her and said sternly, “That’s going too far. Don’t invite trouble. As long as he doesn’t hit you, that’s enough. Oh, I almost forgot—I pickled some eggs yesterday. Let me get them for you to try.”

Jinjuan accepted them without hesitation, figuring her family must have finished eating by now. After saying goodbye to Chunfu, she headed home. As she walked, she couldn’t help but think how much better Chunfu’s life was—no burdensome in-laws, and Jicheng was both hardworking and caring. Those who once mocked the couple—who wouldn’t envy them now? Lost in thought, she reached the alley entrance and unexpectedly ran into Zhao Yun, who had just returned.

She glared at the tall, lean man, her tone sharp. “Back?”

Zhao Yun frowned as she stormed past him into the courtyard. Why was her temper getting worse? He couldn’t understand why she seemed to hold such hostility toward him. Shaking his head with a wry smile, he followed her inside.

After seeing Jinjuan off, Chunfu started preparing the two cleaned fish. Following the Miao method of pickling fish, she gathered the necessary ingredients—toasted glutinous rice, minced red chili, ginger slices, and salt—and mixed them thoroughly in a bowl.

She rinsed the fish again, split them from the tail to remove the bones, and evenly coated them with the seasoning before packing them tightly into a wooden barrel. She added fresh red chilies and extra salt, hoping this would prevent spoilage. Finding a suitably sized stone in the yard, she pressed it atop the barrel. Now, all that was left was to wait. It was her first attempt, and she had no idea how it would turn out.

What seemed like simple steps had taken a considerable amount of time. After placing the barrel in an out-of-the-way spot, she mused that if this worked, she’d try making dried salted fish next. The scorching summer sun would be perfect for drying.

She had just settled under a tree when Jicheng returned, his back bent under the weight of a heavily laden basket, his breathing ragged. Worried, she asked, “What’s wrong? Why are you panting like this? You’re back early today.”

Wiping sweat from his brow, Jicheng grinned. “I asked the foreman for a day off. Manager Jin gave me a task, and I figured I could help you tomorrow so you wouldn’t overwork yourself. Didn’t want to wait, so I walked back. It’s so hot—I’m parched.”

Chunfu followed him inside, handing him a water jug before inspecting the basket’s contents. Her heart ached for him—fine flour, seasonal fruits, sugar, and on top, a large bundle of jasmine and roses, enough to make plenty of treats.

After drinking his fill, Jicheng chuckled. “I didn’t want the flowers and fruit to mix smells, so I carried them in my arms the whole way. Got some odd looks, but I only put them in the basket once I got back.”

His smile was warm and steady, just a slight curve of his lips, yet it made him seem brighter than the sunlight outside. Chunfu smiled back softly. “You’re so thoughtful. Next time, wait a little longer—there’s no rush. Don’t tire yourself out like this.”

“Got it. I need to wash up—I reek of sweat.” He unpacked the basket, placing everything neatly before turning to her. “Help me scrub my back later?”

Chunfu eyed his faded navy-blue shirt, patched in several places, and felt a pang of discomfort. Next time they went to town, she’d buy him new clothes. Such a handsome man shouldn’t be weighed down by shabby patches.

She fetched clean clothes while Jicheng doused himself with a bucket of cold well water. Chunfu scowled. “Don’t take your youth for granted. You’ll regret it when you’re old and achy.” She dried his hair with a towel and asked, “What did Manager Jin want you to do?”

Water dripped down his skin, glistening in the sunlight as he let her fuss over him. “Manager Jin said his apothecary friend is short on certain herbs that grow around here. He asked if I could gather some—he’d pay well. With medicine so scarce and expensive these days, it could be a good income, better than construction work.”

Turning to take her hands, he said earnestly, “I hate seeing you struggle. While I’m still strong, I want to work harder, save more, so we can live better.”

Chunfu frowned. “What exactly are you planning?”

“I’ll scout the area first. Manager Jin gave me a book with illustrations of the herbs. Once I find the right spots, I’ll gather them in the evenings.”

A pang of sadness hit her. She had no right to stop him—he just wanted a better life. Sighing, she said, “I’ll go with you. I can’t sleep when you’re not home.”

Jicheng shook his head. “No. Stay here. You don’t know the mountains like I do. If something happens, I can handle it alone. If you’re there, I’ll just worry about you. Be good—I’ll be back in two hours.”

Two hours meant four. Even if he left right after dinner, it’d be late by the time he returned. After a full day’s work, he’d be exhausted, yet he still had to labor the next day. Was he trying to kill himself? She said nothing but silently made up her mind.

That night, chores finished early, they retired to bed under a starry sky. Moonlight spilled into the room as Chunfu held his hand. “You brought back so many flowers. I’ll make more preserves and pastries to sell. If they do well, we could expand. Maybe talk to Zhou Jing about it.”

Jicheng turned, tapping her nose affectionately. “You’re such a little schemer. Few in our village think like you. I really… love that about you.”

Her heart swelled. “I have to keep thinking ahead, or you’ll work yourself to death. Even if we had all the riches in the world, you need to stay healthy—what’s the point otherwise? Promise me you’ll pace yourself. If it’s too much, rest.”

Pulling her close, his laughter rumbled through his chest. “Silly girl, I’m not as fragile as you think. Every farmer here endures hardship. I’m no delicate noble—I just want you plump and carefree. Once we have two kids, life will be perfect.”

Nuzzling into him, she murmured, “Mm, let’s try for a child after these busy months. You’re not getting any younger, and it’ll ease your mind.”

Jicheng grew serious. “No. You’re still too young. I’ve heard early childbirth harms the body. I’m in no hurry—we’ll wait.”

Truthfully, Chunfu wasn’t eager either, preferring stability first. But she worried Jicheng might envy others with children. Feigning ignorance, she said, “Plenty of girls my age in the village have babies. Why is it fine for them?”

His arm tightened around her. “That’s them. In this house, I say no. We won’t take that risk.”

Little did Jicheng know, the woman he’d married was no pushover. His plans would slowly unravel under her stubbornness, his pride swallowed whole until none of his declarations held weight. Blame it on how he’d always indulged her, letting her climb atop his shoulders until she ran wild. By the time he thought to rein her in, it was too late.

Chunfu buried her face in his neck, smiling. “Fine, have it your way.”

***

The next morning, Jicheng left early with his basket, instructing Chunfu not to cut pigweed and assuring her he had food so she needn’t wait for lunch. Unable to sleep, she tidied the house and began making fruit preserves—a tedious task that left her drenched in sweat by the stove.

She wiped her brow repeatedly, but the sweat kept coming. When Zhang Yan called for her outside, she felt like she’d been rescued. Just then, the preserves finished cooking. After letting them cool slightly, she poured them into small jars. Since she’d started this venture, Jicheng, seeing her struggle with limited containers, had bought extras at the market.

Zhang Yan had come to discuss something, but seeing her drenched, he gaped. “Auntie, why are you like this?”

Exasperated, Chunfu snapped, “Try standing by a stove nonstop! Sweat’s in my eyes—it’s awful.”

After a pause, Zhang Yan offered, “Let me help.”

She wiped her face hard and exhaled. “No, I’ll manage.” The precision required for preserves was beyond him, and they couldn’t afford mistakes.

Seeing her busy, Zhang Yan swallowed his words. He’d heard a tavern in town paid well for snakes and scorpions. Even a small monthly catch could supplement their income. But unsure and fearing Chunfu’s disapproval, he decided against mentioning it. With nowhere else to go, he sat under a tree, watching her work.

Lost in thought, he suddenly noticed a limping figure at the gate. “Who are you looking for?”

The person hurried away without answering. Too young to dwell on it, Zhang Yan sat back down.

By midday, Chunfu was still at it. When Jicheng returned from the mountains, her exhaustion pained him. After washing up, he wiped her sweat away. “I can handle the fillings, and Zhang Yan can help. Go rest.”

As Chunfu splashed her face with basin water, Zhang Yan handed her a towel, whispering, “Auntie, that limping man earlier—was he here for Uncle?”

Glancing at Jicheng in the kitchen, Chunfu frowned briefly before smiling. “Never heard he had limping friends. Must’ve been lost. Come help—we’ve got too much to do today.”

Neither dwelled on it, diving back into work. They labored until dusk, the intricate pastry patterns consuming most of their time. Shaping and baking required precision—no warping or burning—so only the simplest tasks were delegated.

Watching Chunfu deftly craft designs while fragrant steam rose, Zhang Yan marveled, “Auntie, you’re amazing. So skilled!”

Jicheng swelled with pride. Focused and diligent, Chunfu was more beautiful than ever. Once his town work ended, he’d spend every day admiring her.

Meanwhile, Liansheng’s wife mended clothes indoors when her eldest daughter rushed in. “Ma, Auntie Chunfu next door is making something that smells so good! I want some!”

Of course, Liansheng’s wife had noticed—their homes were close. But she wouldn’t impose. Thanks to Chunfu and Jicheng, her husband had work. Without them, where would their income come from? Without looking up, she said, “That’s their business. Don’t covet. When this month ends, your father will buy meat for you. And don’t tell anyone, understand? Your Uncle Jicheng and Auntie Chunfu are good people. Without them, we’d suffer. No matter what others say, ignore it. Got it?”

The girl nodded obediently and skipped off to play.

Peering outside, Liansheng’s wife saw their lush vegetable patch. The tantalizing aroma lingered, a reminder of how Chunfu and Jicheng, once pitied, now thrived—perhaps blessed by heaven. She’d been blind before. Had Jicheng not saved Liansheng, where would they be? Gratitude mattered. No amount of cunning outweighed kindness—good fortune followed good hearts.

Zhang Yan didn’t stay for dinner, having eaten flatbread earlier in secret. But the sweet scent of preserves clung to him. The moment he entered, Li Xiu’e yanked his collar. “Where’ve you been? What’s this smell? Oddly nice.”

Zhang Tong, washing up, recognized it instantly. “That’s it! Uncle’s basket smelled like this last time. Big Brother, what are Auntie and Uncle really up to? Don’t side with them!”

Li Xiu’e’s eyes narrowed. So Chunfu was hiding things from her and Chunmu—but Zhang Yan knew. She twisted his ear, snarling, “Whose side are you on? I birthed a traitor! Spill it—what’s Zhang Chunfu doing? No sleep until you talk. Or get out!”

Zhang Yan’s face paled from pain. “I don’t know! I just ate her flatbread—saw nothing! Yours tastes better, Ma. You haven’t made any lately. If you did, it’d smell like this too, really!”

Half-convinced, Li Xiu’e released him, coldly warning, “Better not be lying, or I’ll beat you dead.”

Zhang Tong scoffed. “Ma, he’s lying! He’s been scheming with Auntie—can’t trust him!” Catching Zhang Yan’s glare, he shrank back, recalling their last fight—how his brother had shown no mercy, as if intent on killing him.

Too tired to argue, Li Xiu’e snapped, “Enough. Zhang Tong, hurry up and sleep. School soon—don’t oversleep. Zhang Yan, wake early tomorrow. Chores await. Stop running off—don’t become their watchdog.”

Zhang Yan’s fists clenched, lips whitening under his teeth. Zhang Tong, drying his feet, scurried off, forcing a laugh. “Big Brother, I’m exhausted. Since you’re washing up anyway, dump my water.”

Normally, Zhang Yan indulged his younger brother, but tonight, he’d had enough. Storming in, he dragged Zhang Tong off the bed by his collar. “Think Mom and Dad’s favor makes you untouchable? Actions have consequences. Dump your own water—and prepare mine.”

Zhang Tong spat, “Why should I?”

Zhang Yan smirked coldly. “Why? Because my fists are harder. They won’t protect you forever. Break your legs—see how you’ll be a scholar then.”

Terrified, Zhang Tong scrambled to obey. Outside, Chunmu asked why he was dumping water so late. “Helping Big Brother—he just got back,” Zhang Tong muttered.

Zhang Yan found it bitterly amusing.