As the last glow of the sunset faded, curls of cooking smoke rose from the He family courtyard, blending into the twilight.
He Yanchu placed the last silver fish into the steamer and covered it with a woven bamboo lid. Only then did she let out a long sigh of relief, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.
“This ‘Fish Kou Rou’ technique… I really have to thank those food videos I binged in my past life,” she murmured to herself. Suddenly realizing she had let a secret slip, she quickly looked around. Fortunately, only the crackling of the firewood in the stove answered her; no one had noticed her talking to herself.
Han Qingmo sat on a low stool under the pomegranate tree. While his hands were busy picking over the greens for tomorrow, his gaze kept drifting involuntarily toward the busy figure at the stove. Silhouetted by the firelight, Yanchu’s profile looked soft yet determined; the way she occasionally furrowed her brows while contemplating the spice ratios was particularly moving. He watched so intently that the vegetable leaves in his hands were rubbed into a shapeless mess.
“Have you seen enough?” Yanchu suddenly turned her head, a mischievous glint in her bright eyes and a slight tug at the corner of her mouth.
Han Qingmo felt his ears burn, but unexpectedly, he didn’t look away. “I could never see enough,” he said, his voice low and sincere, as if stating the simplest of facts.
Yanchu hadn’t expected him to be so blunt, and a flush of crimson instantly bloomed on her cheeks. Forcing herself to stay composed, she stirred the braised fish in the pot and said with feigned airiness, “Well then, take a good look. Do you want to see the playful and cute me, the intellectual and elegant me, or the bright and moving me? I can perform a bit of each for you.”
The moment the words left her mouth, she froze—wasn’t that the “girlfriend mode switch” meme from her previous life? Saying it here in the 1970s was a bit too ahead of its time.
Han Qingmo was clearly stunned. He blinked, then let out a soft chuckle. “That won’t be necessary. Just be your truest self.” His gaze was as gentle as water. “Even when you’re just sitting there in a daze, I find you adorable.”
“Smooth talker,” Yanchu muttered, unable to hide the upward curve of her lips. She turned back to stir-fry the fish chunks, her heart racing uncontrollably. Love in this era lacked the sweet nothings of a smartphone or meticulously planned romantic dates, yet it gave her a sense of reality and warmth she had never felt before.
As night deepened, Yanchu finally finished preparing the fish dishes for the banquet. She stretched, only to find Han Qingmo standing behind her at some point, holding a bowl of steaming brown sugar water.
“Drink some water and rest a bit.” He handed the bowl to her. Their fingertips brushed accidentally, and both pulled back as if scorched. Yanchu held the bowl and took small sips, the sweetness spreading from her tongue to her heart.
She looked up at the starry sky and suddenly remembered something. “By the way, where are my sister and Brother Xiang Yang?”
“They purposefully made some space for us to be alone. I think they went out, likely to discuss things with Second Uncle and Second Aunt.”
Yanchu rubbed her aching arms. “Well, they sure are ‘nice,’ letting this bride-to-be kill all those fish and fry them without coming to help share the load.”
The next morning, before dawn had even broken, the He family yard was filled with the clamor of voices. Yanchu rubbed her sleepy eyes and pushed open her door, only to be shocked fully awake by the sight before her. Over twenty villagers had gathered in the yard—some splitting wood, some fetching water, some setting up temporary stoves. It was as lively as a market fair.
“Xiaochu, you’re awake?” Second Aunt Yang Donghui hurried over, a long list in her hand. “Go wash up quickly! The aunties helping out are waiting for your instructions on how to prepare the fish!”
Yanchu remembered then that according to village custom, the whole village turned out to help with weddings and funerals. Since her parents had passed away early, these responsibilities naturally fell to her Second Aunt. It seemed her sister had indeed gone to settle these arrangements the night before.
“Second Aunt, thank you for your hard work,” Yanchu said sincerely. “My sister and I don’t really know how to handle these things…”
“Silly child, why are you acting like a stranger?” Second Aunt patted her hand, her eyes full of affection. “Your parents left early, and your Second Uncle was your father’s twin brother. If I, your aunt, don’t worry about this, who will?”
She turned and pointed to the busy crowd. “Look, I’ve arranged everything for you—Auntie Li and Auntie Wang are in charge of the main pots; their large-batch cooking is the best. Auntie Zhang is leading the younger wives to steam the rice, and the young men are running errands…”
Yanchu looked where she pointed and saw the yard was in perfect order: three temporary stoves were set up to the east with middle-aged women adjusting the heat; a row of wooden buckets stood to the west where young girls were washing rice; even the usually idle young men were dutifully moving tables and chairs.
“Xiaochu, girl!” Auntie Li’s booming voice rang out. “Come see how we should handle this fish! Your aunt says your Fish Kou Rou is a masterpiece—teach us how it’s done!”
Yanchu hurried over to find several aunties huddled around the silver fish she had prepared the night before, looks of anticipation on their faces. She rolled up her sleeves and began to explain patiently, “The key to Fish Kou Rou is to slice the meat thin without breaking it; every piece must have the skin attached…”
As she demonstrated, she quietly observed these simple village women. In her previous life, she was a city white-collar worker; she never imagined she would one day be teaching traditional recipes in the countryside. Yet strangely, standing here and teaching them felt grounded and gave her a sense of belonging she hadn’t known before.
“Oh, look at that knife work!” Auntie Wang exclaimed in awe. “When did you learn this, Xiaochu? You’re even better than your mother was!”
Yanchu didn’t stop her hands, laughing off the praise. “I just like to tinker with things… By the way, Second Aunt, how are the seats arranged?”
Second Aunt was immediately distracted. “According to the old rules, the village chief and the elders sit at the head table. Since no one from the Han family is coming, we didn’t set a table for them. Our He family will sit on the west side…” As she rambled on, Yanchu breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
As the sun climbed higher, the yard became even more crowded. Yanchu was run off her feet, checking the heat on the fish one moment and arranging chairs the next. Just as she was feeling overwhelmed, a warm, large hand took the heavy load from her.
“Let me.” Han Qingmo was standing behind her. Despite his injury not being fully healed, he insisted on helping move the furniture. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, but he gave her a reassuring smile. “Go take care of other things. My leg is almost better. Perhaps ‘spirits rise when joy arrives’—I feel like this injury is healing exceptionally fast!”
Hearing this, Yanchu rubbed her nose guiltily. “That’s actually possible. Once someone is in a good mood, pains and ailments tend to fade much quicker.”
Han Qingmo looked at her guilty expression and felt he had his answer. I knew it. That water she brought me in the canteen every night was definitely special. I just wonder what she added to it to make the wound heal this fast!