Qing Luan herself was only sixteen. Back when she had asked him to call her “auntie,” it was merely an act of virtue to please Qi Zheng.
Now that everything was gone, hearing the boy address her that way stirred no emotion within her—it was just an empty title, no different from street urchins chasing after people and calling them “living bodhisattvas” or “great benefactors.”
She had no intention of correcting him. With the authority of this false relationship in place, she could speak the words “I’ll send you away” with more conviction in the future.
Now wasn’t the time to bring up sending them away, so she lifted the boy in her arms and bounced him playfully, making him giggle.
His little arms wrapped tightly around her neck, giving her a strange feeling of being relied upon by a young creature.
There was a time when she was lonely and helpless, wanting to keep a cat or a dog for companionship. But she was constrained by circumstances and couldn’t even keep a pet, so she could only curl up by herself and endure the unknown long nights ahead.
Now, holding a child in her arms, her mood wasn’t bad, except… the little thing smelled a bit, and his clothes were terribly dirty.
She had just returned from the shop, her clothes reeking of cooking fumes, so it was time to change and wash them.
Since she needed to change and it was still warm in the afternoon, with nothing to do before dinner, she decided to give the two children a bath.
“Yu-ge, go help me boil some water.”
Qi Yuchen wasn’t staying in the woodshed; he was following Qi Zhaoye’s instructions to behave well in front of his auntie. Hearing her ask him to do something, his little head nodded eagerly. Once put down, he immediately ran to the kitchen and skillfully lit the fire.
Qing Luan wasn’t idle either. She placed a large pot on the stove, fetched buckets of well water to fill it, and kept an eye on Qi Yuchen’s fire-tending: it was good for a child to be diligent and capable, but she also had to make sure he didn’t get burned.
“Yu-ge, what are your plans for the future?” she casually asked while busy.
The boy squatting in front of the stove looked up, his bright, watery eyes wide with innocence. “I want to work for Auntie and take care of her!”
Such a silly, naive remark made Qing Luan frown slightly.
“A real man should study, practice martial arts, and earn a fortune. He can’t just bury himself in work. Besides, I’m not your birth mother—why would you need to take care of me?”
Hearing this, Qi Yuchen’s empty little mind paused. He was only five years old—how could he have thought that far ahead? What he remembered and could say were things his brother had repeated to him over and over.
Seeing that Qing Luan wasn’t satisfied with his answer, the boy panicked and tried even harder to please her. “Brother said that the kindness of raising someone is greater than heaven. Auntie gives us food, so she’s even closer than a birth mother… If Auntie doesn’t like me working, then I’ll study, practice martial arts, earn a fortune, and give all the money to Auntie!”
Hearing this, Qing Luan sighed.
Why was she arguing with a little kid? At an age when he barely knew any characters, he saw whoever fed him as a mother. How could she expect him to have grand ambitions?
Putting down the bucket, she reached out and ruffled his hair, smiling as she agreed. “Alright, alright, Yu-ge is the most obedient.”
Qi Yuchen looked up at her, hearing her gentle reply as if he had received some extraordinary praise. His little face beamed with joy as he buried himself in his work again, stoking the fire in the stove even more vigorously.
This child’s mind was simple: a piece of candy, a meal, or a word of praise was the greatest happiness.
Qing Luan smiled with relief and left the kitchen.
Across the courtyard, the youth in the woodshed lay on a tattered quilt, resting with his eyes closed, almost permeated with the smell of medicine.
Qing Luan rose early to cook for them, brewed medicine for him, applied bruise liniment, and after finishing her chores outside, returned to continue tending to their daily needs… Qi Zhaoye felt deeply ashamed.
In the past, surrounded by countless servants, he had never realized how arduous tasks like washing clothes, cooking, and earning a living through labor could be.
He and his younger brother were still branded as criminals, a continuation of their father’s disgrace. In the future, they could neither sit for imperial examinations nor engage in proper work. Every coin she spent on them, every ounce of effort she exerted, was like pouring into a bottomless pit, destined to vanish into nothingness.
Qi Yuchen did not understand the meaning of “disgraced officials,” and Qi Zhaoye had no intention of letting him know, so he had not explained in detail. Thus, Qing Luan remained unaware of this matter for now.
If she knew…
The young man closed his eyes bitterly, his mind filled with cold, disdainful faces—kicking, beating, and humiliating them, driving them away like plague carriers.
He dared not gamble on the kindness or malice of others again, wanting only to bury this secret deep within himself, for as long as possible.
Perhaps because of this dark calculation, his hands and feet grew cold, his wounds throbbed faintly, and the bitter taste of medicine surged in his stomach, tormenting him with restlessness and pain, leaving him no moment of peace.
In a daze, he heard the cheerful banter between Qing Luan and Qi Yuchen. Though he knew he had urged his brother to win her favor, a sour ache still welled up in his heart: Yuchen, innocent and adorable, could easily earn her affection… while he could not.
In truth, there was no need to spend money on medicine for him. As long as she was willing to raise Qi Yuchen to adulthood, he could die here without regret.
The sensitive thoughts of youth tangled together, impossible to untangle for a long time, forming an unsolvable knot. Like crashing into a southern wall, no matter how he looked or moved, it seemed a dead end.
“Creak—” The suddenly opened door interrupted his silent turmoil.
“Zhaoye, are you awake?” The woman’s voice was gentle and bright, like a beam of light piercing the tightly shut darkness before his eyes.
Qi Zhaoye, with his eyes closed, suddenly grew tense.
His rigid posture, lying flat under the quilt, made it obvious to Qing Luan that he was not asleep. She crouched down and studied his furrowed brow for a moment.
So young, yet his brow was so deeply creased? Nothing about him had fully developed, but those eyebrows—they truly resembled his father’s.
“Can you stand up yet?” she asked, resting her chin in her hand.
Qi Zhaoye swallowed, opened his eyes, but dared not meet her gaze, murmuring, “If I stand up, I’ll feel dizzy.”
“Then don’t move. I’ll help you undress.” As she spoke, Qing Luan rolled up her sleeves and reached for his collar.
“!” The young man arched his back like a dog guarding its food, tugging at his wounds and gritting his teeth in pain. In that moment, Qing Luan steadied the back of his neck.
Frowning, she helped him sit up on the bedding. “Behave and don’t move around.”
This older one, unlike the younger who was guileless, seemed rather unwelcoming toward her. Still, he was thin-skinned and easy to handle.
Qing Luan said lightly, “It’s warm today, so I heated some water for you two to bathe. Your clothes need changing too. If you refuse to wash, staying this dirty will only make you smell worse. Lice will grow in your hair, and you’ll itch all over. Let’s see how long you can bear it.”
Sure enough, Qi Zhaoye flushed red instantly.
Though he knew how filthy he was, hearing it from someone else’s lips was utterly humiliating.
“If it weren’t for Yu-ge’er calling me Auntie, I wouldn’t bother with whether you’re clean or not.” She pretended not to care while reaching to strip off his dirty clothes. Catching sight of the boy’s awkward and indignant expression—like a snarling dog whose threats prove ineffective, forced to maintain a posture of resistance while enduring humiliation—she couldn’t help but think:
No wonder his father doesn’t like him.
This child is deep-thinking and stubborn.
Qing Luan clicked her tongue in disapproval but deftly peeled off his grimy cloth garment, its original color long lost beneath the dirt. Seeing his emaciated frame hidden beneath the blanket, she frowned.
Bruises, scars, sunburns… While both had been homeless, Qi Yuchen was merely thin, without any injuries. But this one…
Not daring to dwell on what he must have endured, Qing Luan let out a soft sigh and asked curiously, “You and your brother only wear one layer of clothing, without even undergarments? Doesn’t it chafe?”
The boy’s stiff, slender body tensed further, as if he’d been exposed in his shame. He bit his lip, looking wronged and aggrieved.
What he said, however, was, “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Fine, fine, I won’t worry about you,” Qing Luan replied casually, scooping him out of the blanket and hoisting him over her shoulder.
With his bare skin exposed to the air, Qi Zhaoye felt utterly uncomfortable. Clutching the fabric of her back, he flustered and embarrassed, protested, “Put me down! I can walk!”
Since her ignoring him the first time hadn’t worked, repeating it wouldn’t make her listen either.
Calmly, she replied, “Keep squirming, and I’ll spank your bottom.”
The boy froze, his face flushing crimson, and finally settled down.
Stepping outside, warm sunlight bathed them, illuminating the entire courtyard. Near the kitchen, a half-person-high bathtub stood in the open space. Hot water had been poured in, steaming warmly.
Beside the tub, Qi Yuchen had clumsily stripped naked, removed his hair tie, and was shaking out his unruly hair. Like a skinny monkey with a bird’s nest on its head, he ran barefoot around the yard.
Seeing Qing Luan carrying Qi Zhaoye, he immediately changed direction and dashed toward her. “Auntie, are you washing Brother first?”
A bit silly, but truly adorable.
Qing Luan freed one hand to ruffle his hair. “The tub is big enough for both of you to bathe together.”
Hearing there was no order, Qi Yuchen grew even happier, toddling on short legs toward the tub. His carefree, unselfconscious demeanor only made Qi Zhaoye seem more fussy and awkward.
Biting his lip tightly, Qi Zhaoye feared Qing Luan would disdain him for it. Yet she said nothing, simply placing him into the tub before picking up Qi Yuchen, who had eagerly stretched out his arms, and settling him inside as well.
The two brothers sat facing each other in the tub. The warm water reached just below their chests, and the gentle sun shone overhead. Their stiff bodies gradually relaxed, the chill dispelled, and even the gloomy thoughts in their minds briefly vanished.
“This feels so good,” Qi Yuchen murmured, burying his face in the water and blowing bubbles.
Qi Zhaoye sat quietly, his gaze unconsciously fixed on the hem of Qing Luan’s robe.
“Soak for a while first; the grime will come off easier then. No jumping around in there—if you break the tub, you’ll have to pay for it,” she instructed before turning and heading toward the main room.
When she emerged, she had changed into a clean indigo dress, carrying the soiled clothes she’d taken off. She also gathered the brothers’ dirty garments and left the house.
Qing Luan took the dirty clothes to a neighboring woman for washing, paying her two extra coins to borrow two sets of children’s clothing.
Back home, she first hung up the clean clothes, tossed the cloth towel into the water, rubbed soapberries into a lather, and washed the two brothers from head to toe, scrubbing every crevice.
A bucket of water poured over their heads, smoothing their hair and cleansing their bodies, leaving the water murky and dark.
Qi Yuchen treated it like play, laughing joyfully.
Qi Zhaoye kept his head lowered, wet hair clinging to his neck like a soaked puppy.
Occasionally, through the misty steam and his lowered lashes, he stole glances at her. Beneath her rolled-up sleeves, her forearms were as fair as jade, bathed in a soft glow by the warm sunlight; her palms, pinkish-white, moved gently through his hair with a light touch.
The warm water stirred by her fingertips flowed over his body, reminding him of the sensation of being lifted by her—weightless yet supported—making his heart inexplicably soften.
She didn’t seem so bad after all.
It was his own narrow-mindedness and arrogance from before, his inability to see right from wrong, that had led him to judge her unfairly…
“All done, clean as can be!” Qing Luan’s relieved sigh and the sudden smack on his buttocks interrupted the boy’s reflection.
He looked up, his eyes brimming with humiliation, his lips nearly bitten through.
Under his gaze, Qing Luan felt a vague sense of unease.
“What’s wrong with you?” she said, patting Qi Yuchen’s little bottom on the other side. “Yu-ge, stop playing now. Lift your arms and stay still—let me dry you off.”
Turning away, she lifted Qi Yuchen out of the tub, placed him on a sun-warmed chair, dried him, dressed him, and ruffled his still-damp hair.
She only had two hands and one pair of eyes—attending to one meant neglecting the other.
Qi Zhaoye was left behind in the now-cool water.
Hugging his knees, he watched Qing Luan’s focused back as she tended to his younger brother. The frustration lodged in his chest swelled into a sour ache.
He couldn’t tell whether this discomfort stemmed from her casual, dismissive slap or from her choosing to care for Yuchen first instead of him…
Author’s Note: