Chapter 11
When they got home, Zhou Yao said he had something to take care of and headed back out.
Left alone, Wen Yue stripped the bedsheets and quilt covers from their bed and tossed them into a large wooden washbasin. She should have washed them yesterday, but it had completely slipped her mind.
The basin was huge and heavy. Grunting with effort, she dragged it into the middle of the courtyard. Then she began making trip after trip between the kitchen and the yard, scooping water with a wooden dipper and pouring it into the basin.
By the time she’d gone back and forth several times, her legs were aching.
I miss automatic washing machines so much…
Supporting her sore lower back, Wen Yue let out a long sigh. Just as she was about to fetch another bucket of water, she caught sight of Zhou Yao pushing open the courtyard gate.
He walked in carrying a cleaned and dressed chicken.
Curious, she stared at it.
“Where’d that chicken come from?”
Zhou Yao answered lazily, “Stole it from someone’s yard to help you get more nutrition. What do you think? Pretty good husband, right?”
Wen Yue couldn’t even be bothered responding.
She turned and headed back into the kitchen for more water.
Zhou Yao strode over, casually dropped the chicken onto the cutting board, then watched her making endless trips with the dipper. After a moment, he couldn’t stand it anymore.
Snatching the dipper from her hand, he said, “Move aside. I’ll do it.”
He grabbed a full bucket of water, carried it outside with ease, and dumped it into the basin.
Then he squatted beside it, picked up a bedsheet, scrubbed it twice, and immediately looked ready to wring it dry.
Wen Yue stared at him in disbelief.
“That’s it? You’re done washing it?”
Zhou Yao raised an eyebrow.
“A couple scrubs is enough.”
As a grown man, he simply didn’t care about that sort of thing.
Back when Grandma Zhou was alive, he’d occasionally help with laundry. After she passed away, though, he’d lived a pretty rough-and-ready life.
Most rural men were like that.
Compared to them, he was already considered fairly clean. At least he bathed every day.
According to the original owner’s memories, her uncle Wen Guoqiang only bathed once a week. In summer he was slightly better—once every two days.
Wen Yue found that utterly unacceptable.
She pushed lightly at Zhou Yao’s shoulder.
“Let me do it. You can just help carry the water.”
Zhou Yao shot her a sideways glance.
Probably remembering her earlier comments about cleanliness, he stood up, flicked the water from his hands, grabbed the bucket, and headed back toward the kitchen.
Internally, he couldn’t help grumbling.
This woman lives more delicately than city girls do.
Still, he wisely kept that thought to himself.
If she started crying again, it’d be a headache.
Squatting beside the basin, Wen Yue rubbed a small bar of soap across the sheet and scrubbed diligently.
She washed carefully, but crouching for too long made her legs go numb.
Without a word, Zhou Yao carried a small stool out from the kitchen and placed it beside her.
“Sit.”
Wen Yue blinked.
“Thank you.”
She slowly stood and sat down. Her legs immediately felt much better.
With Zhou Yao helping beside her, the washing went fairly quickly.
After rinsing everything twice, she called him over to help wring the sheets dry.
Her plan was for each of them to grab one end and twist in opposite directions.
Zhou Yao thought that sounded troublesome.
He picked up the soaking wet sheet, gave it a casual twist—
Water poured out with a loud splash.
The muscles in his arms tightened beneath his sleeves. Veins stood out prominently across the backs of his hands, almost fierce-looking, yet his expression remained completely relaxed.
Watching the clean sheets and quilt covers flutter gently on the clothesline, Wen Yue nodded in satisfaction.
By then, noon was approaching.
Remembering the chicken Zhou Yao had brought home, she asked,
“Chicken for lunch?”
“Whatever you want.”
His answer was as casual as ever.
Wen Yue considered it.
“Let’s save it for dinner. Half for soup, half braised.”
She paused.
“For lunch, I’ll make braised pork. My specialty.”
It was her way of thanking him for helping recover the family land.
Zhou Yao noticed the faintly smug look on her face.
Unexpectedly, anticipation stirred inside him.
Licking his lips, he nodded.
“Alright. I’ll tend the fire.”
“I remember there’s some brown sugar in the cupboard. Can you get it for me?”
Rock sugar would have been ideal, but they didn’t have any.
Brown sugar would have to do.
“Sure.”
Zhou Yao took two steps toward the room, then stopped.
“We should cook all the pork. Save half afterward.”
He glanced at her.
“I’ll take some to Yeliang and Old Fang so they can try it.”
Wen Yue didn’t mind.
“The two men who came over the other day?”
“Mm.”
Zhou Yao stared at her.
When she didn’t say anything else, his brows furrowed again.
“You got a problem with them?”
The question caught her completely off guard.
“Why would I?”
She’d only asked casually.
Zhou Yao lowered his gaze and let out a short, mocking laugh.
“Because they don’t have good reputations.”
Wen Yue blinked.
“How bad? Worse than yours?”
Zhou Yao: “…”
After giving it some serious thought, he replied,
“Not quite.”
Seeing that she genuinely didn’t care, his expression relaxed.
Leaning lazily against the stove, he said,
“They’ve just had bad luck.”
Fang Shitao’s father had died young.
When Fang was fifteen, his mother ran away with another man, leaving behind a younger sister who wasn’t even two yet and a grandmother in her fifties.
At fifteen, Fang Shitao had been skinny as a bamboo pole.
He often stole crops from village fields just to survive.
One time, driven by hunger, he snuck into Zhou Yao’s house looking for food.
Zhou Yao caught him and beat him up.
Even while getting beaten, Fang clutched two sweet potatoes tightly against his chest, insisting he wanted to bring them home for his grandmother and little sister.
Feeling sorry for him, Zhou Yao only hit him a couple of times before kicking him out.
Before Fang left, Zhou Yao even tossed him a few extra sweet potatoes.
After that, Fang Shitao started following him everywhere.
Zhou Yao acted annoyed on the surface, but secretly he’d often bring food to Grandma Fang and Fang’s younger sister.
Ren Yeliang hadn’t had it much better.
There were three boys in his family.
The eldest was his father’s favorite.
The youngest was his mother’s favorite because he was clever and sweet-talking.
That left Ren Yeliang awkwardly stuck in the middle.
Nobody particularly cared for him.
His brothers worried he’d steal their parents’ affection, so they bullied him relentlessly.
Once, they nearly drowned him in the river.
Zhou Yao had been the one to pull him out.
And just like that, Zhou Yao ended up with two followers trailing behind him for years.
In truth, the three of them hadn’t done anything especially terrible.
But Zhou Yao had a bad temper.
Fang Shitao had stolen before.
Ren Yeliang had been smeared by his own brothers.
And the three of them rarely worked in the fields, constantly disappearing off somewhere together.
To the villagers, that was all the evidence they needed.
Idle troublemakers.
Naturally, their reputations suffered.
Parents constantly warned their children not to associate with Zhou Yao’s group, afraid they’d be led astray.
“Wow…”
Wen Yue’s knife slowed as she cut the pork.
“They really are pitiful.”
Sympathy was written plainly across her fair face.
Zhou Yao fell silent.
His lips pressed into a thin line.
A trace of confusion surfaced in his dark eyes.
He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d told her all that.
Did it really matter whether she looked down on them?
Whether she looked down on him?
Not at all.
At least, that’s what he concluded.
So he abruptly changed the subject.
“When are we starting the fire?”
“Now’s fine.”
Wen Yue finished cutting the pork and transferred the chunks into a yellow enamel basin before setting them near the stove.
Once the wok heated up, she began caramelizing the sugar.
When the syrup turned the right color, she added the pork and started stir-frying.
“More fire.”
Zhou Yao immediately stuffed two bundles of dry firewood into the stove.
The kitchen temperature climbed rapidly.
Tiny beads of sweat formed on Wen Yue’s face.
Sitting closest to the flames, Zhou Yao was even worse off.
He stripped off his dark blue jacket, leaving only a white undershirt.
His strong arms were fully exposed.
Whenever he turned to grab more firewood, the muscles along his shoulders and arms flexed naturally beneath sweat-dampened fabric.
His hair had clearly gone uncut for quite some time.
Long bangs hung over his eyes.
With an impatient motion, he shoved them back.
Dark brows appeared beneath them—thick, slightly unruly, perfectly suited to his rugged features.
His lowered gaze carried an untamed sort of handsomeness.
Wen Yue happened to glance over.
Then glanced again.
And again.
For some reason, the heat and irritation she’d been feeling suddenly eased.
This was where the benefits of having a handsome husband became apparent.
If he were ugly…
Wen Yue didn’t even want to imagine how much crankier she’d be.
She quickly looked away.
“Turn it down.”
Then she covered the pot with a lid.
“Another half hour of simmering should do it.”
By now, the aroma could no longer be contained.
The scent slipped through the gaps around the lid and filled the entire kitchen, drifting straight into their noses.
Even Zhou Yao’s appetite had been thoroughly awakened.
“Another half hour?”
He frowned.
“Yep. The longer it simmers, the better it tastes.”
Wen Yue blinked at him.
“Hungry already?”
Smiling, she added,
“Want a rice cake to hold you over?”
When she smiled, her eyes curved into crescents.
Sweet dimples appeared at the corners of her lips.
Zhou Yao paused.
“…No.”
He looked away.
“It’s only half an hour. I can wait.”
That’s what he said.
But his expression somehow looked even more miserable than before.
Wen Yue nearly laughed.
Besides the braised pork, she also prepared mapo tofu and stir-fried greens.
The rice had already finished cooking.
Busy as they were, thirty minutes passed in the blink of an eye.
The neighbors on both sides had returned from the fields.
They seemed to be talking rather loudly.
Wen Yue vaguely heard both her name and Zhou Yao’s mentioned.
She ignored it.
Lifting the lid off the pot, she was immediately greeted by a rich burst of fragrance.
The scent of braised pork surged outward.
Even she couldn’t help swallowing.
Picking up a pair of chopsticks, she poked a piece of meat.
The chopsticks slid right through.
“Turn the fire up a little more. A few extra minutes should do it.”
Zhou Yao tossed more firewood into the stove.
Suddenly, a piece of glossy, red-brown pork appeared in front of him.
He raised his eyes.
Wen Yue was smiling at him.
Holding the meat between her chopsticks, she spoke in the same tone someone might use to coax a child.
“Try it.”
Zhou Yao scoffed inwardly.
What does she think I am, a three-year-old?
Then his body betrayed him completely.
He leaned forward and took a bite.
Juice flooded his mouth.
The meat was so tender that it practically dissolved the moment his teeth touched it.
Slightly sweet.
Not greasy at all.
A spark flashed through his dark eyes.
Keeping a straight face, he said,
“It’s alright.”
The gesture had been completely unconscious on Wen Yue’s part.
Back in her previous life, whenever she cooked and someone was nearby, it was usually her best friend.
Her friend always insisted on sampling whatever was in the pot.
Eventually, Wen Yue had gotten used to feeding her a bite.
The moment she extended her chopsticks, she’d actually frozen.
But seeing Zhou Yao remain perfectly calm, she pretended nothing unusual had happened and withdrew her hand.
“Just alright?”
She raised a brow.
“Then I won’t make this again. You don’t look like you enjoy it much anyway.”
Zhou Yao: “…”
After a long pause:
“It’s really good.”
Wen Yue’s eyes curved into a smile.
“So you like it?”
“If you don’t, I won’t make it anymore.”
Zhou Yao fell silent.
Several seconds passed.
Finally, he forced out two words.
“…I like it.”
His expression twisted slightly, as though someone were holding a knife to his throat and forcing the confession out of him.
Wen Yue nearly burst out laughing.
This man is unbelievably awkward.
Fortunately, she knew when to stop.
Instead of teasing him further, she focused on finishing the meal.
Once the pork was done, she quickly stir-fried the remaining dishes and had Zhou Yao carry everything inside.
After tidying the stove, she poured several ladles of water into the pot.
The fire hadn’t gone out yet.
Perfect for heating water to wash dishes later.
Carrying bowls of rice, Wen Yue stepped out of the kitchen—
And nearly ran into Lin Fang and Liu Cuicui.
Ignoring Lin Fang entirely, she gave Liu Cuicui a friendly smile.
The other woman looked at her with a somewhat complicated expression before returning the smile.
Beside her, Lin Fang practically rolled her eyes into the sky.
Resentment and jealousy radiated from her face.
Wen Yue simply turned and went inside.
Lin Fang was furious.
“Look at that brat’s attitude!”
she complained to Liu Cuicui.
“I’m her elder! She doesn’t even greet me anymore!”
Liu Cuicui sighed.
“What can you do? Just let it go.”
Then she added meaningfully,
“Unless you want Zhou Yao dealing with you again.”
Lin Fang’s expression remained sour, though her voice lowered.
“Hey, did you hear?”
She held up one finger.
“The bride price Zhou Yao paid was this much.”
“A thousand yuan.”
Her eyes widened.
“A whole thousand yuan!”
