Chapter 81:

Sister Liansheng noticed that it was getting late and Chunfu was still hungry, so she stood up to help with the cooking, occasionally turning back to chide Chunfu: “Why are you so thin-skinned? In the future, just shoo away anyone who doesn’t seem decent—no need to spare feelings with outsiders. If others don’t care about you now that you’re pregnant, you must cherish yourself and not let yourself be wronged.”

Chunfu smiled and replied, “Luckily, I’m not so foolish as to miss someone’s ulterior motives. If I were truly that oblivious and ended up unable to protect what’s mine, I’d have no one to blame but myself for the miserable outcome.”

Sister Liansheng shot her a glare. “That girl is still young—probably just taken with Jicheng’s good looks. Since the two of you are so devoted to each other, it’s good this happened early. You’ll be more cautious from now on and avoid unnecessary frustration.”

Leaning against the wall, Chunfu mused, “The hardest thing to predict in this world is the human heart. If someone is determined to change, no amount of effort can stop them. Why make yourself hated? As long as you stay true to your feelings while they last, that’s enough. The rest can take its course.”

As the dough twists bubbled in the pot, releasing an enticing aroma with the added spices, Sister Liansheng turned to Chunfu and said, “You, my dear, are still not quite grown up. Don’t let Jicheng hear such talk—what man could stand his wife being more detached than he is? And don’t overthink it. The way Jicheng is devoted to you, you’re just worrying for nothing.”

Chunfu smiled faintly without responding. Who could say what she’d be like twenty years from now? But today’s encounter had prompted her to speak more than usual. Life was quite satisfying now, and she was content. Yet, though the speaker might be casual, the listener took it to heart. Jicheng, who had been standing outside for a while, finally entered and said to Sister Liansheng with a smile, “Sorry to trouble you, sister, cooking for us. I’m truly embarrassed.”

Sister Liansheng waved her hand. “No need for such formalities. Now that you’re back, I’ll take my leave. Eat quickly. A pregnant woman needs plenty of rest—it helps the baby grow strong.”

Chunfu saw her out, then turned to Jicheng with a smile, her eyes crinkling. “I was upset earlier, but now I find it somewhat amusing. That woman, confident in her pretty and demure looks, had the audacity to openly try to seduce you—quite the elaborate effort.”

Jicheng served the rice and placed it on the small table beside Chunfu, chuckling. “Is this really worth dwelling on? Just send such irrelevant people away and be done with it. Sit down and eat.” Though he spoke lightly, his mood was somber. After a long day’s work, he was famished, yet now his appetite was gone. Watching her eat daintily, he asked in a low voice, “If I had let her stay and later developed other thoughts, what would you have done?”

Chunfu’s smile stiffened, and she slowed her movements. With a quiet laugh, she said, “Why bring this up out of nowhere? Would you? I’ve nothing to say about things that haven’t happened.”

Jicheng’s unease lingered from what he’d overheard. Though he trusted Chunfu, he stubbornly sought an answer: “Of course I wouldn’t. But I want to know.”

Setting down her chopsticks, Chunfu sighed and spoke earnestly: “I’m just an ordinary woman. I’d make a scene, too. But once it reaches that point, what’s the use of fighting? Even if you force someone to stay, their heart won’t be the same, and you’ll only make yourself miserable. I refuse to be pitied. Don’t bother scheming to drive me away—I won’t beg for a change of heart. I’ll leave on my own. Of course… I won’t suffer in silence. Whatever pain I feel, I’ll return twofold.”

Jicheng’s face tightened further at her words about not holding on. When he looked up again, his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. His voice was heavy with emotion: “You’re the only one for me in this life. If I ever wrong you unintentionally, don’t leave too quickly. Give me a chance to realize and correct my mistake.”

Some things didn’t need to be spelled out. With just those few words, she understood his fears and worries. Only now did she realize how much Jicheng feared her leaving. After so many years alone, he couldn’t bear the thought of reliving those terrible days because of some trivial outsider.

Chunfu reached out to caress his cheek until his tension eased, then soothed him softly: “Who could stay calm in such a situation? Don’t dwell on shadows. You cherish me and indulge me in everything. Most importantly, my heart holds only you—isn’t that enough to reassure you, even with our child on the way? Honestly, this mess was your doing, yet here you are giving me the cold shoulder.”

Jicheng’s handsome face flushed. He’d been trapped like a man possessed by her indifferent words, feeling as though he stood naked in a blizzard, slowly numbing and losing strength. From initial pity to now being unable to extricate himself, he’d unknowingly poured all his emotions—no, his very life—into Chunfu.

The quilt was large enough for both. Jicheng, fearing she’d catch cold, had held her close every night these past days, the cozy warmth ensuring her peaceful sleep. His chin rested atop her head as his steady voice murmured above: “From now on, turn away any strangers at the gate—no need to let them disturb our peace. I never expected that woman to be so shameless. I regret not throwing her out sooner and wasting so much time.”

Chunfu turned, draping an arm over his shoulder, her voice brimming with laughter: “This matter doesn’t fall under the village head’s jurisdiction. Pushing it onto him must have put him in quite a spot—how wicked of you.”

Jicheng tightened his embrace. “Who doesn’t take every little thing to the village head? Murky matters like this are best handled there—no one dares gossip, and that woman couldn’t scheme further. Let it be a lesson—I’ll steer clear of such people from now on.”

Chunfu nuzzled his chest, then lifted herself slightly in the dim moonlight to press a kiss to his cool lips. Her tongue traced his lips with delicate care, and he couldn’t resist responding, his large hands cradling her body protectively, mindful of her belly. Since their intimacy, Chunfu had stopped initiating such teasing, often shyly avoiding his burning gaze in the nights that followed—it had truly flustered her at first.

When his breathing grew unsteady, Chunfu released him with a smile. “You always say I’m narrow-minded, but you’re no better. I merely stated facts, yet your face turned black as coal, as if I’d committed some unforgivable sin—so unreasonable.”

Jicheng stroked her back through the thin sleep shirt, the familiar texture reminding him vividly of how she undressed for him each night. A single tug on that slender tie would unveil paradise, but he suppressed the fire within, helping her lie flat instead. His hand gently rested on her belly as he said hoarsely, “Be more careful from now on—don’t corrupt our child, making them ashamed of having such a lustful mother.”

Chunfu bit her lip and playfully swatted him. As drowsiness took over, she nestled against his shoulder and soon drifted off, her soft breaths steady. Jicheng gazed at her tenderly and whispered, “You think men are untrustworthy, easily tempted by beauty—is that how little you trust me? But you’re the one who worries me. That young master Pei… Never mind. You’re pregnant now—a man of his standing wouldn’t stoop so low.”

The next morning, Jicheng rose at dawn when the sky was barely light, the night’s darkness not yet fully retreated. The huddled pigs in the pen, hearing familiar footsteps, rushed over, tails wagging for food. Despite the cold, they hadn’t lost weight, growing sturdy—likely to fetch a good price this year.

The two hens in the coop had grown plump but hadn’t laid a single egg yet. By now, they should have started. For days, he’d checked the nest. Today, luck was with him—the hens were out foraging, and his fingers brushed against something warm. He’d lined the outside of the coop thickly with corn stalks, neatly arranged for insulation.

Abao trailed him, playfully chasing the broom as he swept the yard. The dog had grown considerably, and Jicheng feared its exuberance might jostle Chunfu. Hence, he rose early daily to finish chores by the time she woke.

Just as he was about to head inside, noises came from the neighboring yard—likely Brother Liansheng. Jicheng strode over and called, “Up so early, brother?”

Liansheng stretched and grinned. “Been idle too long. Thought I’d check town for any work to tide us over till New Year’s. Can’t rest easy otherwise.”

After a pause, Jicheng said, “I plan to gather herbs from the mountain these next days. With the border war ongoing, grain and medicine are scarce—prices won’t be low. Winter’s bareness makes foraging easier. Jobs are hard to come by now, and the weather may turn. Sister would worry—care to join me?”

The Lianshengs weren’t hard up—between his wages and her embroidery, they’d saved over ten taels. Content as they were, idleness didn’t suit farmers used to year-round labor. Liansheng laughed, “Why not? These past years, nothing’s been easy. Poverty trains folks to never sit still—even now that life’s better, we can’t relax. In this village, I admire your foresight most. Point me where to go, and I’m there.”

Jicheng was touched. He’d worried Liansheng might refuse, given he hadn’t yet met the herb merchant. If pay was meager, he’d hate to inconvenience them. After packing provisions, they set off. Though visibility was good, foraging still required effort. Locals knew the mountains hid premium herbs—if only they could find a millennia-old ginseng… Jicheng shook his head at his own wishful thinking. Such treasures required extraordinary luck. The deeper mountain paths, long untrodden, were maze-like. Jicheng had torn old clothes into strips to mark their trail.

By the time Jicheng was busy, Chunfu had risen. Folding the quilt, she initially thought to save him food but realized he’d be gone all day. Night fell early—no time for detours. Changing tack, she said, “Take sharp tools. Starved beasts may prowl in this cold. Just… be careful.”

Jicheng turned with a smile. “I ought to buy tofu—spicy tofu tonight would warm us up. No time today, but I’ll fetch some tomorrow. You’ll cook it then.” His white teeth flashed before he frowned. “Don’t go out—it’s freezing. Be good.”

Chunfu, housebound since her pregnancy, bundled up after seeing him off and called over the low wall to Sister Liansheng.

Fresh from chores and about to embroider, Sister Liansheng hurried out at Chunfu’s call. “What is it? So early—”

Chunfu smiled. “Jicheng craves tofu, and I’ve been cooped up. Fancy joining me to buy some?”

Rubbing her hands, Sister Liansheng said, “Go lock your door. I’ll tell my girl and grab money.”

The cold hit hard once outdoors. Chunfu shivered, breath misting. “So late, yet no one’s about—the village feels lifeless.”

Sturdy Sister Liansheng marched on, nose and cheeks red. “Even snakes hibernate. Who’d brave this chill unless desperate?”

Walking briskly, she held Chunfu’s arm, basket in hand. Chunfu’s delicate appearance demanded care—especially with Jicheng doting on her. She’d return her unharmed.

Unlike past trades with grain, now they paid cash. Few were at the tofu stall. Aunt Zhang weighed their purchase and chatted, mostly with Sister Liansheng while Chunfu listened quietly.

“Chunfu’s grown so lovely. Buried in tofu-making, we miss village news. When did she recover? Had I known earlier, I’d have proposed for my Er’gou.”

The insincerity was plain—business hubs buzzed with gossip. Chunfu only smiled. Sister Liansheng laughed. “Too late for regrets—she’s a mother now. Best scout other girls. Few in our village have vision—I was blind too, missing chances.”

Outside, Sister Liansheng scoffed. “Aunt Zhang’s the most calculating—sweet-talking now that you’re doing well, in case she needs favors.”

Chunfu shrugged. “We’re no different from anyone—just buying tofu. If issues arise, Jicheng handles them. I’m just a simple wife.”

Passing Jinjuan’s home, Chunfu called out. Jinjuan rushed to invite them in. The tidy yard, fenced garden bare in winter, was Zhao Yun’s handiwork. They didn’t stay long—Sister Liansheng’s daughter waited alone. After urging Jinjuan to visit, they hastened back.

Too long indoors had left Chunfu unaware of Li Xiu’e and Chunjü’s newfound closeness. The pair approached, laughing until Xiu’e spotted Chunfu and stiffened. “Buying tofu, sisters?”

Even Xiu’e’s thick skin couldn’t withstand Jicheng and Chunfu’s indifference. With no gains, she’d backed off, now regretting it. Had Zhang Yan been home, Chunfu might’ve helped for his sake. Chunmu’s health had declined—ill repeatedly this winter, though not gravely. Xiu’e worried silently. Seeing Chunfu’s rosy glow, she longed to share her struggles, hoping for aid.

Sister Liansheng confirmed, then asked, “Where are you two off to? Chunjü, you’ve just given birth—shouldn’t wander. Take care.”

Chunjü, a village joke, bristled under Sister Liansheng’s gaze, sensing mockery. Suppressing rage, she muttered, “Thanks for concern. I must go.”

Xiu’e, en route to repay Dr. Han, had met Chunjü. Taking Chunfu’s hand, she said, “Cold keeps us indoors. Once Chunmu’s better, I’ll visit.”

Chunjü felt increasingly unhinged postpartum, erupting at Ji Kun’s slightest criticism. Dark thoughts of mutual destruction plagued her. Her mother’s disdain during childbirth had cut deep—even family scorned her.

Distracted, Chunjü bumped into someone…