19 – Saving the Village Demon
Sang Mohan’s hand holding the pen paused slightly, a chill flashing in his eyes as he said coldly, “Has no one told you that I despise other women approaching me?”
His voice was rigid as a straight line, devoid of any emotion.
“I’m not some other woman—I’m your lawfully wedded wife. It’s been over three months since I entered this household, and I haven’t cooked a single meal for you yet.” Qin Yue’s voice was soft and sweet, almost coquettish.
She’d heard men couldn’t resist women who acted coy—unless they weren’t real men.
Sure enough, the man slightly turned his head upon hearing this, holding the pen between his fingers as he snorted softly, “Oh? You certainly know how to talk. Pity I’m not hungry, so save your efforts.”
“Even if you’re not hungry, you should eat. An empty stomach in the morning is bad for your digestion…”
“Nagging.” The man cut her off harshly.
Qin Yue decided to push her boldness to the limit: “How about this—I’ll simmer you a bowl of nourishing stomach porridge, prepare a small side dish, and toast some mantou slices for you. Do you prefer them well-done or lightly toasted…”
“Are you quite finished?” The man frowned, clearly impatient.
“Since you won’t say, I’ll prepare them according to my own taste.”
Having said this, Qin Yue turned and left.
Watching the petite woman’s retreating figure, Sang Mohan’s lips actually curved into a faint smile.
He had suffered from a strange illness since childhood—whenever it flared up, he needed to drink fresh blood. Without it, his body would feel as if being torn apart by thousands of insects. Over the years, he had lost count of how much blood he’d consumed.
However, aside from the Sang family members, outsiders knew nothing about his peculiar condition. They only knew the Sang family had a son who never went out, and over time people began speculating he was an idiot. The rumors grew increasingly terrifying, spreading from ten to hundreds until every village within dozens of miles knew that the village chief of Sangyu Village had a son who was both stupid and ugly. No one was willing to marry their daughter to him.
A year ago, his condition worsened, and Sang Zhen Tian confined him because there was no more fresh blood for him to drink.
Three months ago, when he was critically ill, his mother said she would bring him a bride to ward off bad luck, eventually exchanging ten cattle and several cartloads of food for Qin Yue.
He understood perfectly well—his mother had secured him one final option. She wouldn’t let him touch this woman unless absolutely necessary.
In Sang Mohan’s eyes, Qin Yue was just a greedy woman who, for the sake of cattle and food, was willing to marry a fool like him. He despised such women most of all—even if she died, she’d deserve it.
Yet when the critical moment came last night, he found himself unable to sink his teeth into her…
Qin Yue arrived at the kitchen, added water to the pot, and gathered some firewood to start boiling water.
In her previous life, she had never even seen such a traditional stove, and since transmigrating, she hadn’t cooked either, so making fire posed a tremendous challenge for her.
“Cough! Cough! Cough!” She choked until tears and mucus streamed down her face, exerting immense effort before finally getting the fire blazing.
Though provisions were scarce, they were sufficient for several days. She rinsed some millet, tossed in a handful of mung beans, and put them together into the boiling pot.
With the millet simmering over low heat, Qin Yue used this time to step outside. The spring onions in the courtyard were growing well—she pulled up several stalks, picked some green chili peppers, and gathered some cilantro, planning to prepare a cold side dish.She discarded the dried leaves, washed the vegetables clean with water, then placed them on the cutting board and sliced them into thin shreds for later use.