Exiting the Xichun Restaurant, Song Bo found his robes weighted down with a significant amount of silver. The shop owner had been incredibly prompt with the payment, exchanging the silver for the goods immediately. Song Bo’s simple pouch was far too small to hold such a sum, so he had to ask the owner to help him wrap the silver in a bundle, which he then tucked securely into the front of his robes.
Carrying such a large amount of money for the first time was a sweet burden. The weight was so substantial that his clothes felt as though they might slip.
With a sudden influx of twenty-five taels, Song Bo felt free to shop without restraint. Today was already meant to be a day for major purchases, and with this wealth, he no longer had to be frugal or limit himself to only the bare essentials.
He purchased the materials needed to repair the window, ordered several more sets of custom clothes for himself and Jiang Jinxi, and bought the ingredients for the meal he planned to cook the following day. With several large bags of goods, it was impossible for Song Bo to carry everything back to the village on his own.
He decided to rent a donkey cart in town to transport his purchases.
The donkey cart moved at a leisurely pace while the driver engaged Song Bo in casual conversation. By the time they reached his home, the sky was completely dark. Fortunately, the streets were mostly empty of villagers. Although he did not fear being seen, such a large delivery would surely have sparked unwanted gossip.
Song Bo first tucked the newly won brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones under the bed. Since these items were currently of no use, hiding them saved him from having to explain their origins to Jiang Jinxi or his aunt. Next, he divided the silver into several small bundles, hiding them in various places, such as under the bed and on his person, to keep his wealth distributed. Only after organizing everything and putting his new purchases away did Song Bo head to Song Chazai’s house to fetch Jiang Jinxi.
Picking up Jiang Jinxi had become something of a habit.
As Song Bo walked through the village with a lantern, that uncomfortable sensation returned. It felt as though hundreds of caterpillars were suddenly crawling over his skin. The feeling had disappeared for a few days, and he had hoped that those watching had finally moved on.
It was no wonder that in the original story, the protagonist only found Jiang Jinxi after a year. With this level of intense surveillance, it was a testament to Jiang Jinxi’s resourcefulness that he managed to leave any clues at all.
Song Bo entered Song Chazai’s courtyard to find Jiang Jinxi standing before a medicine cabinet. One drawer was open; he held herbs in one hand while flipping through a book with the other.
Song Bo did not disturb him and sat down beside Song Chazai. “Aunt, I would like to invite you and my uncle to my house for dinner tomorrow evening.”
Song Chazai was busy organizing her medical prescriptions for the day. She looked up, considering the date, and realized it was neither a birthday nor a holiday. “What is the occasion that warrants an invitation to dinner?” she asked.
“I have tomorrow off, and I simply thought it would be a good time to host a meal,” Song Bo replied.
“Have you hired a cook?”
“Of course not. I shall be cooking myself.”
Song Chazai paused and cleaned her ear with a finger, certain she had misheard him. “You are cooking yourself?”
“Indeed. I have already bought all the ingredients. We only need to start the fire tomorrow,” Song Bo said.
Hearing this, Song Chazai hesitated. “I believe I am busy tomorrow evening.”
“Aunt!” Song Bo called out.
Jiang Jinxi turned at the sound of Song Bo’s voice. Seeing that he had arrived, Jiang Jinxi returned the herbs to the cabinet and walked out from behind the counter to join them. “What is happening?” he asked.
“Your husband is planning to cook a meal for us tomorrow,” Song Chazai said with a shrug. “I am afraid of being poisoned.”
Song Chazai’s concern was justified. The original host had reached adulthood without ever stepping foot in a kitchen. He could barely boil an egg, let alone prepare a full meal.
Jiang Jinxi could not help Song Bo with the cooking, as he had only learned how to start a fire a few days prior. However, he did not share Song Chazai’s skepticism. Instead, he felt a strange confidence in Song Bo. Given their interactions over the past few days, nothing Song Bo did would surprise him.
Jiang Jinxi smiled slightly. “Aunt, you are a doctor, are you not? You will not be poisoned.”
“Well, look at you two, of one mind,” Song Chazai said, looking from Song Bo to Jiang Jinxi.
“Just try it. If it is truly terrible, I will not ask you again,” Song Bo said, striking while the iron was hot.
Song Chazai sighed. “Fine, I shall come.”
As they left the courtyard, that same skin-crawling sensation crept over Jiang Jinxi’s shoulders. Those watching would never leave him be until they saw him suffering.
Just as he was wondering how to react, Song Bo’s large hand gripped the back of his robes, pulling him toward home in a dragging motion. It looked rough, but only Jiang Jinxi knew that Song Bo was barely using any strength.
Once they were safely inside the bedroom, Song Bo released him. He casually lit the candles in the room without saying a word. Jiang Jinxi could not tell what the purpose of that pulling motion had been.
Since Song Bo did not mention it, Jiang Jinxi did not ask. His father’s enemies were formidable, and he would eventually return to face them. There was no need to drag Song Bo into those dangerous waters.
The next morning, birds sang from the withered branches outside. Song Bo opened his eyes as sunlight hit his eyelids, prompting him to roll over.
After lingering in bed for a while, he finally got up. Although he did not have to work, there was still much to be done. After washing his face, Song Bo placed the buns he had bought the previous day onto the stove to steam.
The aroma of meat buns wafted from the steamer, waking Jiang Jinxi.
Jiang Jinxi emerged from the room with a yawn and saw Song Bo busy in the kitchen. “Do you not have to work today?” he asked.
“I forgot to tell you, today is my day off,” Song Bo replied. He used a cloth to lift the lid of the steamer, and a cloud of steam instantly filled the air, intensifying the scent of the meat buns. Using chopsticks to remove the hot buns, he told Jiang Jinxi, “Go and wash up. Breakfast is ready.”
“Alright.” Jiang Jinxi entered the kitchen, intending to use the heat from the stove to warm some water, only to find that Song Bo had already prepared a basin of hot water for him right next to the hearth.
Looking at the rising steam, Jiang Jinxi felt an inexplicable sensation, as if the warmth from the water had traveled through his eyes to wrap around his heart.
Whenever Song Bo was around, he did not have to worry about anything.
The morning sun shone through the window onto the two of them as they sat facing each other, each holding a meat bun.
Breakfast at his aunt’s house was usually plain rice porridge and vegetables, which was quite bland. This was the first time Jiang Jinxi had eaten meat buns for breakfast. The savory juices burst in his mouth, making it incredibly delicious.
Seeing Jiang Jinxi eat with his eyes narrowed in satisfaction, Song Bo knew he loved the buns. He made a mental note to buy them more often after work so that Jiang Jinxi could steam them for himself in the mornings.
After breakfast, Song Bo brought out the window repair materials he had left in the courtyard. The wooden slats were of a fixed length, so he needed to measure the height and width of the window and use a saw to cut them to size before they could be installed.
Jiang Jinxi ate much slower than Song Bo. He saw Song Bo’s face appear by the window, his eyes focused intently on a ruler. “What are you planning to do?” Jiang Jinxi asked.
“I am going to fix the window,” Song Bo replied. Fortunately, he was tall enough that he could reach the top of the frame by standing on his toes.
Hearing this, Jiang Jinxi quickly stuffed the last bit of his bun into his mouth, chewed it a few times, and swallowed. After washing his hands, he went outside to find Song Bo still measuring the frame.
Since there was no paper or ink in the house, Song Bo used a piece of charcoal from the kitchen to record the measurements on the ground.
Jiang Jinxi walked over and looked at the markings, finding the handwriting quite intriguing. He had seen Song Chazai’s writing, which was small and elegant, but it seemed to pale in comparison to Song Bo’s script.
Watching Song Bo’s busy silhouette, Jiang Jinxi felt a surge of doubt. This man claimed to be illiterate, yet his handwriting was more fluid and graceful than that of many scholars. Could he have been an educated man in the past?
Upon further reflection, Jiang Jinxi thought it unlikely. Scholars were typically full of pride; why would one be willing to work as a common laborer? Since he had started the job, Song Bo had been rising earlier than the roosters and working harder than an ox. His body was covered in bruises, yet he never uttered a single word of complaint. He used his small earnings to support the household rather than buying paper and brushes, which were the lifeblood of any scholar. He truly did not seem like an educated man.
“Help me record these measurements.”
Song Bo’s voice pulled Jiang Jinxi from his thoughts. He gave a quick response and knelt on the ground, using the charcoal to write down the dimensions Song Bo provided.
Once all the measurements were recorded, Song Bo brought over a small stool and prepared to saw the wood right there.
Sawing wood would inevitably create flying sawdust. Considering Jiang Jinxi’s comfort, Song Bo suggested he go to Song Chazai’s house.
“No, I will stay and help you,” Jiang Jinxi said.
This house was his temporary home. Since Song Bo was working to fix the window, he could not bring himself to leave and simply enjoy the results of Song Bo’s hard labor.
Song Bo did not insist. “Then stay back a bit so the sawdust does not bother you.”
Jiang Jinxi nodded and took several steps back.
Song Bo placed his left foot on a wooden slat to steady it, held it with his left hand, and used his right hand to saw along the marked line.
Physical labor easily led to sweating. Feeling the heat, Song Bo rolled up his sleeves, revealing his sturdy arms. As he applied pressure, the muscles in his arms tensed, showing beautiful, defined lines.
Jiang Jinxi could not take his eyes off Song Bo’s arms. His muscles were not overly large, perhaps because the original host had been physically depleted by his gambling habits, so they were not as impressive as those of other laborers. Yet, that combination of lean strength and masculine energy caught his attention, making it hard for him to look away.
After sawing through one slat, Song Bo wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Jinxi, take this slat and see if it fits the frame.”
Startled by Song Bo suddenly speaking to him, Jiang Jinxi hurriedly averted his gaze. He stood up, picked up the wood from the ground, and held it up against the window.
Song Bo could not help but laugh. “That is for the long side. If you try to fit it against the short side, it will not match.”
Jiang Jinxi’s ears turned red as he quickly adjusted the position of the wood.
Song Bo did not know what was wrong with Jiang Jinxi, but he found these slightly clumsy movements unlike his usual self. Over the past few days, Jiang Jinxi had always given him the impression of a dignified and composed young master.