Li Sanniang stared at the village chief in disbelief, her face filled with shock.
“What? Village Chief, you’ve eaten it?”
“Mhm.”
With his hands clasped behind his back, the village chief said kindly to Li Miaomiao, “Miaomiao, could you ladle me another bowl? I’d like to bring some home for my family. Most people don’t want pig offal anyway. I want my wife to taste it—maybe then she can cook it herself at home from time to time.”
Li Miaomiao couldn’t figure out the reason for the village chief’s sudden concern, but she suppressed her doubts.
“Of course, Grandpa Village Chief.”
There was such a big pot to begin with—she and Xiao Xian couldn’t possibly finish it all.
She was about to fetch a clean bowl, but the village chief felt it was too troublesome and said directly, “Just use the bowl I ate from.”
But that was his used bowl. “Is that really alright?”
Seeing how thoughtful she was, the village chief tapped his cane lightly. “When young, a father doesn’t mind his child; when old, a child doesn’t mind his father. It’s fine.”
Li Miaomiao pressed her lips together, thought for a moment, then went into the main hall to get the bowl.
There was only one used bowl left on the table. As she came out, she glanced toward the bedroom.
As soon as Li Miaomiao left, Li Sanniang hurriedly questioned the village chief.
“Brother-in-law, you really ate it? Is your stomach alright? At your age, an upset stomach is no small matter. What were you thinking? And you even want to bring some back for my second sister?”
In the face of her earnest persuasion, the village chief stroked his beard and laughed heartily.
“Sanniang, you were bitten by a snake once and now you fear ropes for ten years. If you taste it, you’ll know how delicious it is.”
The fragrance drifting from the kitchen filled the air. Seeing how cheerfully he was laughing without any signs of stomach trouble, Li Sanniang felt a faint urge to try it.
But after eating it years ago, every time she recalled it, it felt as if a foul smell rose in her throat.
She simply couldn’t bring herself to take a bite.
When Li Miaomiao brought the bowl over, her slight obsession with cleanliness got the better of her—she couldn’t resist washing it first.
The village chief and Li Sanniang stood at the doorway watching her fetch water and wash the bowl, their expressions filled with pity.
“This child has such a hard life. Brother-in-law, you must look after her more.”
The village chief responded thoughtfully, “Mm.”
Even without Sanniang’s reminder, he would do so. To cut off his eldest granddaughter’s feelings, he had not stopped Li Miaomiao from marrying Xiao Xian. His conscience couldn’t rest easy.
He had already suffered several sleepless nights.
Helping Li Miaomiao a little more would ease his guilt.
He only wondered whether Xiao Xian, once a high-ranking official in the capital and now exiled, might one day be banished somewhere else again.
Li Miaomiao washed the bowl clean and filled it with a generous portion of pig intestine and radish soup.
“Grandpa Village Chief, we don’t have a lunchbox at home, so you’ll have to carry the bowl back.”
“No matter.”
Since they were all family, Li Sanniang directly took the bowl from her hands.
“Brother-in-law, your legs aren’t steady. I’ll carry it for you.”
Li Miaomiao knew that Li Sanniang’s husband was the village chief’s youngest brother. Their extended family had always been close and never cared about gossip.
“Auntie, shall I ladle you a bowl too?”
Li Sanniang quickly shook her head. “Please don’t. I can only look at that stuff—I don’t dare eat it.”
Seeing how frightened she was, the village chief said to Li Miaomiao, “Miaomiao, she appreciates your kindness.”
“Yes, yes, your thoughtfulness is more than enough.”
After walking them to the gate, she called softly, “Grandpa Village Chief, Auntie—take care!”
Watching them disappear around the bend, Li Miaomiao puffed out her cheeks and let out a big breath. Closing the door, she skipped back toward the kitchen.
Humming a tune, she continued slicing the large intestines.
“One portion for later, and this portion for smoked intestines.”
She bustled about in the kitchen all afternoon, not sparing Xiao Xian a single glance.
That evening, she steamed rice. Not wanting to waste the starchy rice water, she poured it into a basin to drink as soup, stir-fried a dish, and added another bowl of intestine soup.
One dish and two soups—the meal was ready.
By the time she set the food on the table, dusk had fallen, and little light remained.
Standing at the doorway, she saw Xiao Xian leaning against the headboard, staring unblinkingly at his legs.
His gentle eyes held neither joy nor sorrow—who knew what he was thinking.
Though Li Miaomiao didn’t know what he had gone through, she often saw him staring at his legs.
She could imagine how devastating losing the use of them must have been.
Xiao Xian had long noticed her standing there. When she remained silent for a while, he lifted his gaze toward her.
For some reason, when he looked over, Li Miaomiao felt flustered and quickly shifted her eyes away from his legs.
Clearing her throat, she said, “Dinner.”
Neither of them spoke while eating. If someone passed by outside and didn’t see the tung oil lamp lit in the main hall, they would probably think the dilapidated house was empty.
The man ate with refined manners—every movement graceful and noble.
As she ate, Li Miaomiao kept stealing glances at him, her mind wandering about what his identity had been before his legs were crippled.
Even the way he ate seemed aristocratic. He must have studied, right?
After putting down her chopsticks and pondering for a moment, she asked, “Xiao Xian, did you study before?”
His eyelids lifted slightly as he cast a calm glance at her, trying to read something from her face.
Mistaking his silence for indifference, Li Miaomiao shamelessly repeated the question.
“Did you attend a private school?”
She had been staring at him for so long just to ask whether he had studied. He was curious about her intention.
“ I did,” he answered succinctly.
Hearing that, Li Miaomiao’s brows arched. With her own little calculations in mind, she pressed on, “How’s your handwriting?”
“Not fit for refined company.”
She didn’t quite believe that his handwriting was poor. Wasn’t it said that good-looking people also wrote beautifully? With his elegant appearance, his handwriting should match.
After dinner, Li Miaomiao washed the dishes and returned to her room.
In the past few days, she had collected river clams from the fields, removed the shells, burned them until brittle, ground them into powder, mixed them with plant-ash water and oil rendered from pig pancreas to make several bars of soap. Wild chrysanthemums bloomed in March; she picked some, dried and ground them into powder, and added them in.
The soap carried a faint fragrance. Once dried, it could be used for washing clothes.
She hadn’t been idle on other days either—she had made several multifunctional wooden boxes in different styles and even crafted some clothes hangers out of bamboo.
In this era, clothes were draped over wooden racks; there was nothing like modern hangers.
She set aside the best-looking design, planning to take it to Shopkeeper Wang at the market to test the waters and see if anyone would buy it.
As for the remaining hangers, she carried them into Xiao Xian’s room.
Sitting on the bed, Xiao Xian looked up at the sound of her footsteps and noticed the strange objects in her hands.
Putting aside his thoughts, he asked calmly, “What is that in your hand?”
Having barely spoken all day, his voice sounded slightly hoarse. Li Miaomiao gestured at the item.
“A clothes hanger. For hanging clothes.”
A clothes hanger?
Xiao Xian frowned almost imperceptibly. Bamboo could be shaped so flexibly?
Li Miaomiao originally planned to hang up his clothes. But when she opened the wardrobe, she found that the lattice compartments had no horizontal beam.
She placed the hangers on the bed, stroked her chin in thought, then said to the man, “I want to move the wardrobe outside and modify it. We’ll need to take everything out first.”