Da Wa’s eyes were full of longing. “Of course it’ll be the same. But honestly, Aunt treats you far too well.”
Shen Xihe lowered his head. “It’s not the same.” Gu Xiao truly did treat him well.
That answer displeased Da Wa. “How is it not the same?”
Shen Xihe said, “You haven’t married yet—you don’t understand.”
Perhaps it was because she always found ways to surprise him—bringing food, saying things shamelessly sweet. Gu Xiao’s kindness toward him was unique in all the world.
Da Wa: “…” Well, that wasn’t much fun to hear. He would understand someday.
After closing the stall, Da Wa went to the butcher and bought two jin of pork belly and a set of pig liver. Whatever Gu Xiao asked him to buy, he bought—nothing more, nothing less.
Back home, Madam Zhou glanced at the goods but didn’t scold him. “Put them in the well first. Be careful not to let them spoil.”
Yesterday they had eaten meat pies. This time, the stew would wait for Shen Xihe. Madam Chen happily placed the meat in a bucket and lowered it into the cool well water with a rope.
Afterward, Madam Chen quietly asked, “Xiao Xiao, how should we cook the meat?”
With the taste of meat still lingering, she felt stronger already. Tomorrow the academy would be on holiday, so Madam Chen wouldn’t need to run the stall—she could stay home to tidy and cook.
They had eaten stewed meat before, and stir-fried meat twice. The Shen family mostly ate noodles, except for that one time Shen Xihe had come home and cooked rice.
Gu Xiao said, “Why not have rice? Diced pork fried with rice.”
Madam Chen had eaten stir-fried dishes before, but stir-fried rice was something she had never heard of. “Fried rice?”
Gu Xiao didn’t realize Madam Chen had never made fried rice. Thinking about it, it made sense—feeding such a large family, there was never leftover rice to fry.
In the backyard garden there were radishes and cucumbers, and in a few days there would be beans and other vegetables—perfect for fried rice. The pork couldn’t be cured in time, but if only there were diced cured meat.
Gu Xiao swallowed at the thought. “Sister-in-law, you’ll see tomorrow.”
She remembered how, in the past, she had eaten fried rice, flatbreads, and other quick, tasty foods most often—spicy hotpot, mala stir-fry, soup dumplings. Made well, they could even be sold outside.
“Then tomorrow I’ll help you,” Madam Chen said. She had come to realize Gu Xiao’s cooking was excellent. Learning more from her could only be a good thing.
Having decided what to cook the next day, Gu Xiao spent the afternoon making umbrella handles. Perhaps from sitting too long, she felt a dull ache in her lower abdomen. The pain came in waves—bearable, but it had lasted several days.
Gu Xiao suspected her monthly cycle was coming, but since there was no bleeding, she ignored it.
Tomorrow Shen Xihe would return. Gu Xiao glanced around her room—bamboo tubes and wood stacked in the corner, a pile of paper on the table, paint still wet on the brush tip, bamboo strips, carving knives, folding fans. Without realizing it, the room was filled with her things.
All of it would have to be hidden. Once she left the Shen household, she wouldn’t need to be so cautious anymore. She hid some items first. Tomorrow morning she could still work a little, then tuck everything directly under the couch.
After a good night’s sleep, the next morning Madam Chen and Madam Li began tidying early. They washed clothes, cleaned the house, and then the old master Shen took his two grandsons to the fields to weed.
Madam Chen hung the laundry on bamboo poles, then glanced at Gu Xiao. “Xiao Xiao, why do you look so pale?”
Gu Xiao touched her face. “My stomach hurts a little; it’s nothing.”
Madam Chen didn’t think further. “If you’re uncomfortable, go lie down in the room. Tell me how to cook the meat—I’ll do it.”
Gu Xiao thought it might really be her monthly cycle coming. She had never had pain before, but now her back was damp with cold sweat.
“Steam the rice first, then pick some vegetables—cucumber, radish. Sister-in-law, cut the meat into small cubes. I’ll cook it later.”
Gu Xiao lay on the bed for a while, then got up to cook. Madam Chen and Madam Li could have done it, but with such precious meat, if it weren’t cooked well, it would be a waste.
Gu Xiao first removed the odor from the pork belly, then stir-fried it until fragrant. The alternating fat and lean cubes glistened with oil; the outside browned. Gu Xiao tasted a piece—the lean meat was firm and stringy, the fat melted in her mouth.
Fried rice had to be quick. Over high heat, she scooped in a spoonful of lard, sprinkled scallions, then cracked in four beaten eggs.
The steamed rice, cooled so each grain was separate, was poured into the egg mixture. Each grain was coated in egg, then she added chopped cabbage, cucumber shreds, and radish strips. The diced pork was added last. A splash of soy sauce, then vinegar and salt—the aroma burst forth.
There was a lot of rice. Sweat beaded on Gu Xiao’s forehead. Seeing her pale face, Madam Chen took the spatula. “Just stir it through? I’ll do it.”
Gu Xiao sighed in relief. “Just mix it evenly, that’s all.”
Gu Xiao was truly feeling unwell. As she stepped out of the kitchen, she saw someone at the gate. It took her a moment to recognize who it was.
Shen Xihe stood there with a bundle in hand, frowning. “What’s wrong? You look dazed.”
“Third Brother, you’re back.” Gu Xiao pressed her brow. “The meal will be ready soon. Go wash your hands first.”
Shen Xihe looked at her quietly, then suddenly reached out and touched her forehead. Gu Xiao instinctively tried to pull away…
“Don’t move.” He stepped closer. “Why do you look so pale?”
Her forehead wasn’t hot—his touch found it cold.
Still unused to being so near, Gu Xiao edged back. “I’m fine.”
Shen Xihe paused. “…Really fine?”
Gu Xiao forced a smile. “Truly fine.”
Shen Xihe clasped his hands behind his back, tapping his fingers lightly. “If you feel unwell, tell me.”
Gu Xiao thought, *What’s the use of telling him? He’ll only tell me to drink more hot water.* “I’m really fine. Let’s eat.”
The midday meal smelled wonderful even before it was served. Since the Shen family rarely ate rice, this rice dish was enjoyed with great relish. The eggs were tender, the vegetables richly flavored, and the rice grains distinct yet not hard—every bite was full of savory juices.
After eating, Gu Xiao returned to her room. Shen Xihe lingered outside for a while, then pushed the door open.
Gu Xiao was sewing—if her monthly cycle did come, she needed to prepare a few more cloths.
Shen Xihe closed the door and coughed lightly into his fist. “Doing needlework?”
Gu Xiao was in a poor mood, her temper short. She answered casually, “Mm, just sewing something.”
“This is a handkerchief?” Shen Xihe didn’t realize what it was. He didn’t understand such things, but he admired her skill—his cuffs embroidered with bamboo leaves were beautiful—so he praised, “It looks very nice.”
Gu Xiao set down the needle and thread and lifted her head. “Have you ever seen a handkerchief that long?”
Shen Xihe: “If it’s not a handkerchief, then what is it?”
Usually, being asked such a thing would bring embarrassment. But looking into Shen Xihe’s eyes, Gu Xiao thought of all the days she had been cautious, secretly saving money. Shame gave way to irritation.
“Why do you care so much? Don’t you have anything better to do?”
Shen Xihe was startled. “I—I do have things to do. I’ll go out now.” He changed his clothes, glanced back at Gu Xiao, but she didn’t even lift her head.
Gu Xiao’s anger made her stomach ache. She finished what she was sewing, then went out to change. Afterward, she curled up on the couch to lie down. Half-asleep, she dreamed of her stomach hurting, and when she woke, she was drenched in cold sweat.
The sky wasn’t yet dark when Gu Xiao gasped, gritting her teeth as she sat up. She rested on the couch for a while, but the pain was unbearable. At last she called out for her husband.
The door quickly opened, and Shen Xihe came in. “Xiao Xiao, you called me?”
Gu Xiao said, “My stomach hurts. I want some hot water.”
“I’ll boil it right away.” Shen Xihe turned to leave, muttering under his breath, “Why does your stomach hurt… is it very bad?”
The Shen family never drank hot water, only cool well water. Perhaps because of that, Gu Xiao’s stomach hurt all the more.
Water couldn’t be boiled instantly, so Shen Xihe stayed by the stove, feeding in plenty of firewood. The bigger the fire, the faster the water boiled.
It wasn’t even evening yet, but the stove was blazing hot. Madam Zhou came out of her room and saw her youngest son boiling water in the big pot. “Why are you boiling water in broad daylight?”
Shen Xihe turned his head. “Xiao Xiao’s stomach hurts. She wants hot water.”
“Stomach hurts?” Madam Zhou frowned. “How can her stomach suddenly hurt…”
Madam Chen came in from outside. “I noticed Xiao Xiao looked pale this morning.”
Madam Zhou stood there for a moment, then suddenly understood. “What good is hot water? She asked you for hot water and you really went to boil it?”
Shen Xihe coughed, choked by smoke. “Then what should I make?”
Madam Zhou went back inside and returned with brown sugar. “Slice some ginger into fine shreds. Eat all the ginger, and the stomach pain will go away.”
A big piece of ginger boiled into brown sugar ginger tea left the whole drink tasting of ginger. Even Shen Xihe found the smell overwhelming. With plenty of water added, it filled two large bowls.
He carried one inside. Gu Xiao sat up, clutching her stomach. “What is this?”
Shen Xihe said, “Brown sugar ginger water. Eat all the ginger and the pain will go away.”
Gu Xiao had never suffered cramps before, so she had never drunk this. Ginger was for removing odors in cooking—cut into slices for stewing meat, and even then she worried about mistaking it for meat. To eat it plain? Her stomach hurt so badly she felt nauseated. “Plain hot water is fine. I don’t need this.”
“You have to drink it all. Be good—drink it and the pain will stop.” Shen Xihe stirred the bowl with a spoon. “Xiao Xiao, will you drink it yourself, or should I feed you…”
Gu Xiao leaned back. Was this some miracle cure? If drinking it would help, she’d rather do it herself than be fed by Shen Xihe. She took the bowl and sipped. Sweet and spicy, the taste was strange in her throat, hard to swallow. She managed half a bowl, but the rest she couldn’t finish.
Wiping her mouth, Gu Xiao said, “I feel much better. If I sleep a while, I’ll be fine.”
Shen Xihe insisted, “No, you must drink it all.”
“Try it yourself and you’ll know what it tastes like.” Gu Xiao turned her back. “Anyway, I’m not drinking it.”
Shen Xihe tasted a spoonful. The flavor was indeed odd, but since Gu Xiao had already drunk some, he found it not so unbearable. “I’ll drink half, and you drink the other half?”
Gu Xiao: “…”
As night deepened, Madam Zhou saw that Gu Xiao would not be coming out for supper. She said, “Let’s eat first. When Xiao Xiao wakes, we’ll cook her a steaming bowl of porridge.”
After the meal, Shen Xihe returned to the room to check on Gu Xiao. She was curled up on the narrow couch, sweating heavily, perhaps from discomfort.
Thinking the couch too small and the quilt too thin, Shen Xihe lifted her onto the bed. She was light in his arms, almost weightless. From now on, Gu Xiao would sleep on the bed, and he on the couch—after all, he only came home once every five days. He tucked the quilt around her, then sat on the couch for a while. He tried lying down there; it wasn’t so bad. As he rose, his eye caught a slip of paper peeking out from beneath the mat. The sky outside was already pitch black, with only the chirping of insects. Shen Xihe paused, then picked it up. The room was dim, and he squinted hard to make out the writing.
The handwriting was neat: “Selling oneself, five taels of silver. Three years’ food and lodging, two taels.” Below were scattered accounts—crossed out, added again, then crossed out once more. At the end was a final tally: “Current savings: one tael, nine qian, thirty-one wen.”
Shen Xihe stared at it for a long time, not understanding what it meant.