Once the chicken coop was finished, Li Miaomiao untied the cords from the hens’ legs and tossed them inside. She washed her hands, walked over to Xiao Xian, and said, “Go ahead and strip all the cypress leaves off those branches; I’ll handle everything else here.”
Xiao Xian said nothing. He simply washed his hands, braced himself on his crutches, and made his way to where she had dragged the cypress branches.
Li Miaomiao watched him, shaking her head silently as he struggled to balance his crutches with one hand while dragging a branch with the other. That’s what you get for playing the martyr last night, she thought.
The pig offal, having soaked in salt water overnight and been scrubbed thoroughly with coarse flour, smelled much less aggressive. The lungs and other parts had been rinsed until they were clean and pale. She set the pork pancreas aside—she had noticed freshwater mussels in the fields during the early spring and planned to harvest some soon to make soap.
She carried the prepared offal into the kitchen. The large intestines went into the pot with a splash of wine to neutralize the odor, while she carefully cleaned the blood clots from the heart and other organs. Once prepped, she began working on the curing rub. She tossed Sichuan peppercorns and evodia fruit into a pan, toasted them with salt until fragrant, then ground them into a coarse powder.
She rubbed the mixture evenly over the pork liver and stomach. By now, the intestines had been parboiled; she set half aside for braising and used the rest to stew with white radishes.
She minced the leftover meat from yesterday, mixed it with crumbled tofu, and rolled them into meatballs to fry. Looking at the golden, sizzling meatballs in the pan, she sighed. “Actually, they’d be even more fragrant with some water chestnuts, but unfortunately, you can’t buy those in town.”
After rubbing the cure onto the parts destined for smoking, she went outside and saw that Xiao Xian had finished stripping all the cypress leaves. Not wanting to waste time, she headed out to collect a large stack of palm leaves.
The dilapidated fence actually proved useful; she threaded the wooden rack through the gaps in the wall and used other points to secure it. Once the frame was sturdy, she hung the cured meat on the wood, wrapped the entire thing in palm leaves to seal it, and placed a small pile of dry grass inside to ignite. Smoking meat was a delicate art—one had to maintain the smoke without letting the actual fire take hold. But for Li Miaomiao, this was second nature.
She topped it off with the cypress leaves. A thin, curling stream of white smoke began to rise, filling the courtyard with the crisp, clean scent of cedar. By the time she had finished cleaning up the surrounding mess, it was already noon.
Turning back, she noticed Xiao Xian sitting on the steps, his head bowed as he obsessively picked at his hands. Looking down, she saw that her own hands were covered in sticky tree resin. She immediately went into the kitchen to heat some water, ladled it into a bucket, added a splash of cold water, and carried it outside.
She set the bucket in front of him. “Put your hands in and soak them.”
Xiao Xian looked at her, his voice detached. “No need.”
He reached for his crutches, clearly intending to retreat to his room. Li Miaomiao didn’t buy his refusal for a second; she sensed he was just being stubborn. Without a word, she reached out, pressed down on his shoulders, and guided his hands into the warm water. Her voice was sweet, tinged with genuine concern. “You have to wash it off before the resin dries. If it sets, you might end up peeling off a layer of your own skin to get it off.”
Hearing her concerned tone, Xiao Xian stared at the water, watching her rough, calloused hands pressing down on the back of his own. He usually loathed anyone touching him, but at this moment, he felt no repulsion.
Seeing that he wasn’t moving, Li Miaomiao bit her lip, squatted halfway down, and turned his palms over. They were densely coated in thick, sticky resin. She began to carefully pick the resin off, paying such meticulous attention that she didn’t miss a single knuckle.
As she washed them, she couldn’t help but notice how beautiful his hands were. His knuckles were distinct, his palms were pale and slender like fine jade, and while there were thin callouses at the base of his thumbs, they didn’t detract from his appearance—they only added a touch of rugged masculinity that contrasted sharply with his otherwise gentle, scholarly demeanor.
As she worked, his sleeve slipped down. Li Miaomiao quickly caught it and, fearing it would fall again, rolled it up to his elbows.
Suddenly, her eyes fell upon a jagged scar on his left forearm; the rest of it was hidden beneath his clothing. Li Miaomiao wondered how far the scar extended, but before she could dwell on it, she felt a cold, sharp gaze fixed upon her.
She looked up, and their eyes met. Xiao Xian’s typically gentle, soft eyes were as calm and still as a stagnant pool. It was as if her previous observation had been nothing more than a trick of the light.
He had been vulnerable and indulgent last night, but now that his strength was returning, it was probably safer to act as if she had seen nothing. She shifted her gaze back to the bucket, rubbing his fingers softly, as if tickling them.
“Don’t go back to your room just yet. I’m going to heat up some more water so you can take a bath and change into fresh clothes.”
After handling the pig offal, there was bound to be a lingering, pungent odor on him. There was a room specifically for bathing that housed a wooden tub—she didn’t need to ask to know it was Xiao Xian’s private sanctuary. Given how fastidious he was, there was no way he could tolerate the smell for long.
Silence greeted her request, as usual. Li Miaomiao didn’t mind. Once the resin was scrubbed from his hands, she headed to the kitchen to boil the bathwater. Hauling water back and forth was exhausting and inefficient; she really needed to find the time to build a proper water pipe.
Just as she finished mixing the water to the right temperature, Xiao Xian emerged from his room with a set of clean clothes. Li Miaomiao poured the last bucket, and he arrived at the doorway exactly as she finished. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, shook out her aching arms, and gestured toward the room. “Go on, it’s ready for you.”
She had been running ragged these past few days; her shoulders throbbed, and exhaustion tugged at her eyelids. Seeing her state, Xiao Xian offered a rare, small gesture of kindness. “In the future, you can use this room to bathe as well.”
Li Miaomiao was stunned. Long after the door clicked shut, she stood there in a daze, unable to shake the feeling of unreality. She puffed out her cheeks like a pufferfish and blinked in disbelief.
He’s being that generous? Was he actually touched by my kindness?
It seemed that sincerity really was the ultimate weapon after all.
The radish and intestine stew still needed hours to simmer, so, with nothing else to do, she stripped the bark off the cypress wood, cut the smooth timber into segments, and fashioned two small, low stools. She set them aside and then went to check on the smoke for the cured meats.
By the time she returned, Xiao Xian had finished his bath. His black hair, dark as ink, cascaded down to his waist, the tips still dripping with water. Seeing him standing there, his handsome face framed by his loose hair, Li Miaomiao couldn’t help but think: If he dressed in women’s clothing, he’d be absolutely breathtaking!
As he walked past the entrance, Xiao Xian caught sight of the two new wooden stools sitting by the door. His eyes dimmed for a fleeting second before he balanced on his crutches and retreated into his room.
Li Miaomiao decided she would bathe later that evening. She was sitting on one of the small stools, working on the handles for her blades, when a familiar figure appeared beyond the tattered fence, heading straight for the house.
She furrowed her brow, whispering to herself in confusion: “It’s midday—why on earth is the scum Lin Dalang coming here?”
Suspicious, she continued whittling her tool handle while keeping a sharp eye on Lin Dalang’s movements. At this hour, almost every family in the village was eating lunch. Lin Dalang had intended to scout the terrain, hoping to find a good spot to keep Xiao Xian under surveillance.
Before he could even get close, he spotted Li Miaomiao sitting on the steps, staring him down.
He gave a haughty scoff. “That ugly woman! She’s still harboring delusions about me.” Just looking at her face made him feel sick. He peered through the fence to see if Xiao Xian was around, and seeing that the coast was clear, decided he would come back in the evening.
Li Miaomiao had no idea what he was doing there, and frankly, she couldn’t be bothered to deal with him. She set down her work, intending to add more cypress leaves to the smoker.
Lin Dalang, assuming that Li Miaomiao was simply heartbroken and desperate to talk to him, stood with his hands behind his back and launched into a sneering, mocking tirade. “Li Miaomiao, even if you begged me, I would never forgive you. You aren’t even worthy of being my concubine in this lifetime.”
What is this guy on?
Li Miaomiao stepped down from the platform, completely bewildered by his brazen arrogance. She looked at Lin Dalang with the eyes one might use for a person with a profound mental deficit. She couldn’t help it; she let out a sharp, mocking laugh.
“Lin Dalang, are you sick in the head?”