“Cut the chatter. If you don’t want it, I won’t leave you a single cent from now on.”
Fang Yao felt strangely flustered whether from the warmth of his laughter or the faint scent of spirits clinging to him, she could not tell. Realizing just how close he was, she shifted inward, making room for half the bed. “If you’ve had too much to drink, then go to sleep!”
Xu Qingzhou laughed as he tucked the money into his pocket, then stretched out comfortably across the bed, exhaling a warm breath laced with the smell of wine. “Ah… there’s truly no place like my own bed.”
He turned his head, his long, narrow eyes glistening with deep amusement. He simply kicked off his shoes and shifted his whole body toward her. “I’d half thought you’d send me to sleep on the floor again tonight.”
Fang Yao had already felt the bed grow crowded the moment he climbed in. Now, with him gazing at her so intently and making such idle, teasing remarks, she found it impossible to focus.
She set her knitting down at the foot of the bed and inched a little further inward until she was nearly pressed against the wall leaving a clear stretch of space between them like a dividing line. She then pulled the quilt up tight, wrapping herself securely within it.
Her voice came sharp with warning. “We may be husband and wife in name now, but we are still practically strangers. Letting you share this bed is already more than generous. Have some self-awareness and do not ever behave like those shameless beasts Xu Manjiang and Li Xuemiao.”
Xu Qingzhou looked into her wide, chattering eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. Yet beneath the amusement, his gaze held something deeper, darker.
Nodding slowly, he rose just enough to fetch the second quilt and draped it over himself. A low, knowing hum rumbled in his chest. “Still so cross even after collecting all that compensation? One would think their affairs matter a great deal to you.”
Fang Yao fell abruptly silent, a chill prickling down her spine. She had been about to insist she cared nothing for the couple when Xu Qingzhou simply turned his back to her, leaving her with nothing but a cold, distant view of his shoulders.
“After all,” he said evenly, “you were engaged to him for the better part of a year. Fine. I understand.”
That tone, that way of speaking… it reeked of long-simmering jealousy.
Fang Yao rolled her eyes. Even if she tried to explain everything from her past life, he would never believe her. He would likely think grief had unhinged her mind!
Better this way. She was far from ready let things remain simple for now, and give them both time to adjust.
Fang Yao turned over. She had slept poorly the night before and toiled all day besides; exhaustion soon claimed her, and she drifted off.
Sometime past midnight, the clink of the stove lid woke her faintly. She knew it was Xu Qingzhou tending the fire. She kept her eyes closed, yet sleep had slipped away.
Her thoughts drifted back to her past life. For five years married to Xu Manjiang, he had never lifted a finger about the house. Fang Yao had washed, cooked, and cleaned every day waiting on him as one might wait upon a spoiled child.
In summer, the work was bearable enough. But winter was cruel. Scrubbing through piles of heavy, sodden clothes left her hands raw and cracked with chilblains, the pain only soothed by melting snow. And tending the fire at night? That too had fallen to her. Shivering her way out of warm bedding into the freezing dark, then crawling back in only to lie awake, teeth chattering.
Now, the stove burned steady and true, holding the room in gentle warmth. And behind her lay a solid, reassuring presence. Fang Yao stayed perfectly still beneath the covers.
His voice came low and soft, barely more than a murmur. “Did I wake you? I’ll keep quieter. Sleep now.”
There was a weary kindness in his tone. Seeming to notice she might still feel cold, he reached over and pulled a portion of his own quilt across to cover her as well.
Fang Yao felt herself enveloped in warmth body and heart alike. A feeling swelled within her that she could not easily name.
She thought then: Li Xuemiao was truly a fool. She had cast aside a precious jade only to grasp at worthless rubble. Xu Manjiang beside Xu Qingzhou? One stood tall, honorable, and true a man of duty and backbone. The other… to call him a beast would be an insult to beasts everywhere.
Fang Yao could not say when she finally drifted off. When she woke again, Wang Hua’s voice carried across the courtyard, calling them to breakfast.
Xu Qingzhou answered clearly. He rose and dressed quickly, his tall, upright figure set off handsomely by his grass-green army uniform. He stepped out carrying a basin, returning shortly with cold water which he set atop the stove to warm.
“Wait until it heats up before washing,” he told her. “It’s bitter outside dress warmly when you come over.”
He had evidently already washed using cold water, no doubt. Tiny crystals of ice still clung to the hair at his forehead as he crouched before the stove, warming his hands.
Once again, Fang Yao found herself moved by his quiet thoughtfulness. All her life, she had been the one serving others. To suddenly find herself being cared for… it left her feeling almost awkward, as though she did not deserve such kindness.
“I can manage myself,” she muttered quietly. “I am not a child.”
She bent to dress, feeling the weight of her heavy cotton coat. Unlike the heartless Xu Manjiang, she understood well enough every kindness one receives is a debt that must one day be returned.
Yet Xu Qingzhou had only said, “You are five years younger than I. Beside me, you are still very much a child.”
Fang Yao fumbled one of her coat buttons into the wrong hole, making her look all the more flustered. Meeting Xu Qingzhou’s amused gaze, warmth flooded her cheeks.
“What are you laughing at? It’s only five years! I am hardly that much younger than you!”
His gaze dropped deliberately to the second button on her coat. His laughter deepened, rich and warm. “No. Hardly at all.”
Mortified, Fang Yao spun her back to him, face burning hot. “You… shameless rogue! Stare any longer and I shall pluck your eyes out!”
Seeing her truly flustered and fearing he had teased her too far, Xu Qingzhou smoothed his hair and grew serious once more. “The water is warm. Wash quickly, and I shall wait for you outside.”
Only after he had left did Fang Yao slip on her cotton trousers and step down from the bed. The water over the fire held just the right warmth. Gazing at her hands hands that had not yet known years of toil she saw them still smooth and rosy, growing softer still as she soaked them in heat.
Her face too, after a winter of careful tending and a light touch of vanishing cream, glowed with youthful freshness. Large dark eyes beneath clear double eyelids, a neat little nose, and sweetly shaped lips.
Though everyone complimented her appearance, Fang Yao privately thought herself plain pleasant enough to look upon, perhaps, but nothing truly striking. Set beside a genuinely beautiful woman, she would fade into insignificance.
Not wishing to keep them waiting, she quickly washed, smoothed cream over her face, braided her hair into two neat plaits, and hurried to Wang Hua’s room.
Upon the table sat steaming bowls of food. In the harsh northern winter, fresh greens were a rarity; meals relied heavily upon potatoes and turnips, which kept well through the cold. Yet Wang Hua spared no expense or effort in her cooking. Summer-dried greens lasted them through the season, and every dish was studded with tiny, savory bits of meat small luxuries meant to nourish and fortify them.
From the moment Fang Yao sat down, Wang Hua piled food generously into her bowl, telling her she looked too thin and needed to build up her strength. Fang Yao understood perfectly well: her mother-in-law was eager for the day she might hold a grandchild in her arms.
Unfortunately, things between herself and Xu Qingzhou had not yet reached that stage. She dared not speak of it, so she simply nodded obediently and ate her meal in silence.
After breakfast, rather than idle, Xu Qingzhou took an axe into the courtyard to chop firewood. Fang Yao brought her knitting over to Wang Hua’s room to continue her lesson.
She had only just cast on her second row when voices drifted in from outside raised, sharp, and quarrelsome. Recognizing Wang Cuilian’s tone, she instinctively looked toward the window.
Wang Hua too heard the shouting, loud and furious. She set down her needles and walked to the door.
Fang Yao followed close behind. Out in the courtyard, Xu Qingzhou had paused mid-strike. He stood with one foot propped upon a stone block, listening intently.
Fang Yao knew his hearing was exceptionally keen. She walked over and asked, “What is your Second Aunt shouting about now? Who is she quarreling with?”
Xu Qingzhou stood a full head and shoulders taller than she. He looked down at her from beneath heavy lids, his expression faintly exasperated.
“So curious? Why don’t you go over there and ask her yourself?”