Lin Suier leaned against the cool earthen wall.
After quite a while, the frantic “little deer” pounding in her chest finally began to settle.
The heat on her face faded a little, but the small patch of skin on the back of her hand where Jiang Liao had brushed her still seemed to carry a strange lingering sensation…
It was unfamiliar and unsettling, winding around her thoughts and leaving her heart in a tangled mess she couldn’t sort out.
Lin Suier shook her head hard, not daring to let her mind wander any further.
She had just poured the water into the large jar by the kitchen door when there was movement from the east room.
Her mother-in-law, Madam Zhou, shuffled out in a pair of old cloth shoes.
Her hair was pulled tightly into a bun at the back of her head, her eyelids drooping, the corners of her mouth turned downward—as if nothing ever pleased her.
Rubbing her lower back, she said, “Suier, I’ve just gotten up and my throat’s dry. Go, pour me a bowl of water!”
As she spoke, she walked over to the worn Eight Immortals table in the main hall and sat down on a bench, waiting to be served.
“Yes,” Lin Suier answered quickly, hurrying into the kitchen.
The porridge on the stove was nearly done, and the sweet potatoes had steamed soft and fragrant.
She scooped a ladle of water into a coarse porcelain bowl and carefully brought it to her mother-in-law.
“Mother, please have some water.”
Madam Zhou took the bowl, sipped it, and immediately frowned.
“This water… tastes off. Was the well dirty? How many times have I told you—draw from the swirling center, that’s where it’s cleanest!”
She set the bowl down with a critical look, her gaze sweeping over Lin Suier.
“You went out so early and dawdled this long, and only brought back this little water? Who’s that enough for? Washing, feeding the chickens and ducks—what doesn’t need water?”
Lin Suier lowered her head, twisting her fingers in her clothes. “Mother, I’ll go fetch more right away…”
“Enough, enough!” Madam Zhou waved her hand impatiently. “Is breakfast ready? Wenqi will be getting up soon to study—he mustn’t go hungry. The half block of fermented bean curd Aunt Zhang next door brought yesterday—still there? Bring it out for him to eat with his porridge!”
“Mother, the bean curd… my husband finished it last night.”
“Finished?” Madam Zhou’s voice shot up sharply. “You have no sense at all! Don’t you know how to save things? Wenqi studies so hard—how can he manage without a bit of oil and salt in his stomach? All you know is to eat everything clean!”
Grumbling, Madam Zhou got up and went into the kitchen herself, lifting the lid of the pot.
When she saw the thin porridge and the three not-so-large sweet potatoes, her face darkened further.
“Just this much? Only three sweet potatoes? Who’s that enough for?”
She turned and glared at Lin Suier.
Lin Suier hurried to explain, “Mother, there’s not much rice left. As for the sweet potatoes… I won’t eat. I’m not hungry.”
Madam Zhou snorted heavily through her nose and said nothing more.
She took a bowl and began serving porridge, deliberately scooping the thicker portion into one bowl, then picking the largest sweet potato to place beside it.
That was for her son, Chen Wenqi.
At that moment, the west room door creaked open, and Chen Wenqi walked out wearing a blue long robe.
He looked about twenty-four or twenty-five, with a lean face and fairly regular features, though his complexion was pale, with faint shadows under his eyes.
He habitually held a worn book in his hand, its edges frayed, his brows slightly furrowed.
“Mother. Suier.”
Chen Wenqi walked to the table, nodded to Madam Zhou, and merely lifted his eyelids at Lin Suier as a greeting.
There was a deliberate aloofness and pride in his manner.
“Wenqi, come sit! The porridge is ready!” Madam Zhou immediately put on a warm, attentive expression, pushing the fullest bowl and the large sweet potato toward him. “Eat while it’s hot! Then you can study—today’s weather is perfect, not too cold or hot, just right for hard work.”
Chen Wenqi gave a quiet “Mm,” sat down, and picked up his chopsticks.
He ate in a refined manner—taking small sips of porridge, chewing the sweet potato slowly, making almost no sound.
There was a scholarly air about him.
Madam Zhou also served herself a bowl and took the second sweet potato.
Lin Suier did not sit at the table.
She carried her bowl of thin porridge to the stove and sat on a small wooden stool.
“Wenqi,” Madam Zhou said while eating, “yesterday I ran into Uncle Li. He mentioned that Wang Tiezhu’s family at the west end of the village is looking for a clerk to do some copying work. The pay isn’t much, but it could help with household expenses. What do you think…?”
Chen Wenqi immediately frowned, as if hearing something offensive.
Setting down his chopsticks, he said proudly, “Mother, don’t bring this up again! Your son has studied diligently for years, aiming for the imperial examinations. I am to serve the court in the future! How could I lower myself for a few coins to do trivial copying work alongside rustic villagers? That would disgrace a scholar’s status! As for household expenses… we can endure for now. Once I pass the provincial exam, everything will naturally improve.”
He spoke with firm certainty, as if success were already guaranteed.
Lin Suier was not surprised to hear this.
Her husband had indeed shown early promise—he earned the xiucai degree at eighteen.
But since then, he had failed the provincial exam twice.
And the exam was only held once every three years.
The next chance would be in two more years.
After being lectured by her son, Madam Zhou fell silent, afraid of hindering his lofty ambitions.
“Sigh… I’m just worried… the household expenses—our rice jar is nearly empty, and the oil and salt are running out…”
Lin Suier lowered her head further, swallowing quickly, feeling a tightness in her chest.
Her husband prided himself on being a scholar, unable to carry or lift anything.
He never did any farm work, spending his days reciting from books.
As for her mother-in-law, she always said she was too old, with aching back and legs, unable to do heavy labor.
So everything in the household—inside and out, cooking and farming, feeding chickens and ducks, washing clothes—fell entirely on Lin Suier.
Not wanting to listen anymore, she quickly finished eating and cleaned her bowl.
“My husband… Mother, please take your time eating. I’ll go check if Little Cao is awake.”
Chen Wenqi was picking at the last grains of rice in his bowl. Hearing her, he didn’t even look up, merely humming in acknowledgment.
After a moment, as if recalling something, he glanced at her and said instructively, “Suier, I’ve told you many times—now that you’ve married into the Chen family, you must observe proper etiquette. ‘Head of the household’ is what village women say. You should address me as ‘husband’ instead, so as not to lose decorum.”
Lin Suier lowered her gaze and replied softly, “Yes, husband. I’ll remember.”
In the village, most wives called their men “head of the household.”
But Chen Wenqi considered himself a scholar, someone destined to become an official, so he insisted on proper forms of address.
Thus, he always made Lin Suier call him “husband.”
Madam Zhou chimed in immediately, glaring at Lin Suier. “Exactly! Wenqi is a scholar, a future official. The household must have rules! Suier, you need to learn more—stop being so muddleheaded all day and dragging down Wenqi’s reputation!”
Lin Suier acknowledged softly and turned to walk quickly into the inner room.
Inside, Little Cao was already awake, sitting obediently on the kang, rubbing her sleepy eyes.
A few strands of hair stuck up adorably on her little head.
When she saw her mother, she broke into a wide smile, stretched out her short arms, and called in a sweet, childish voice, “Mama! Hug!”
Lin Suier hurried over, scooping the soft little body into her arms and kissing her milk-scented cheek.
“Little Cao is awake? Did you sleep well?”
“Yes!” Little Cao answered brightly, pointing outside the window. “Mama, look—the sun is out!”
“Yes, the sun is out. That means Little Cao should get up, wash up, and eat.”
Lin Suier gently dressed her in small clothes and put on the cloth shoes she had made herself.
Little Cao was very obedient—raising her arms when told, stretching her feet when asked—her big grape-like eyes blinking as she watched her mother.
She babbled softly, then said, “Mama, tummy hungry.”
After dressing her, she patted her belly and looked up at Lin Suier expectantly.
“Mother saved some sweet potato and porridge for you. Our Little Cao is the best girl, right?”
Holding her small hand, Lin Suier led her out and fetched water to wash her face.
In the main hall, Chen Wenqi had finished eating and was pacing in the courtyard with his book, murmuring as he recited.
Madam Zhou was clearing the dishes. She only glanced at them and said nothing.
Lin Suier went straight into the kitchen, brought out the small bowl of thicker porridge and sweet potato she had set aside, and let Little Cao sit on a small stool to eat.
“Eat slowly, be careful, it’s hot,” she said, patting her daughter’s head.
Little Cao nodded obediently, holding the bowl clumsily in her small hands, sipping the porridge little by little.
Then she grabbed the sweet potato and took a big bite, her cheeks puffing out like a little squirrel as she chewed contentedly.
Leaning against the stove, Lin Suier watched quietly for a while.
When Little Cao finished eating, Lin Suier quickly cleaned up, wiping her daughter’s mouth and hands.
She saved the remaining rice soup in the pot, then carried a basin outside to feed the two scrawny hens in the yard.