Today, Jian Jia had no plans to tidy the courtyard. But while airing the bedding, she spotted a large black rat. The rat was outrageously bold. It paused right in front of her, raised its tiny paws in a mocking gesture, and stared at her with beady, glinting eyes as if daring her, then twisted its rear and slipped into the pile of debris.
The dormant “Scroll King” in Jian Jia stirred. Who could tolerate being taunted by a rat? She could not. Today, she would root out the rat nest, or she would not sleep.
Fueled by determination, she grabbed a small saw and began clearing the debris with maximum efficiency. Within just an hour, she had captured a notable haul, several nests of mice.
The mice were at different stages of growth. Some were tiny pink balls, others already had gray fuzz. Inside the boxes, they bobbed their heads with eyes closed, emitting tiny squeaks. More than thirty of them pressed together, a spectacle both impressive and unsettling.
Qin Lang squatted by the wooden box, poking the soft, warm bodies with slender fingers, occasionally glancing at Jian Jia with bright, curious eyes. Jian Jia, under his gaze, sat obediently on a small stool by the low table, lips pressed together, head bowed, like a child who had done something wrong.
She had thought tidying the yard was helpful, but when Qin Yi returned, she learned the branches and debris were actually firewood Qin Father had prepared for Qin Lang before his death. Qin Yi had been serving in the military at the time. Knowing his days were limited, Qin Father had stockpiled food and dragged down heaps of firewood from the mountain, ensuring his young son would have provisions after he was gone.
Qin Father had been meticulous; even a single stick of firewood had to be neatly arranged. But he passed before finishing the task.
What Jian Jia had considered messy and disruptive was actually the last memory of Qin Father preserved by the Qin brothers. She had disturbed it without permission.
She wished she could crawl into a hole. If anyone had touched her grandparents’ things, she would have thrown them out without hesitation.
Qin Yi was cleaning a mountain chicken, scalding its feathers in hot water to remove them easily. Pausing after partially processing the chicken, he glanced at the droopy Jian Jia and reassured her, “Don’t worry. I intended to organize it myself, but these past days were hectic. I just had not found the time.”
“The food he stored was mostly eaten by mice. The firewood would rot if not sorted. He did this to make life easier for his descendants, not to complicate ours. So do not blame yourself, and do not dwell on it.”
Qin Yi added praise, “You did well catching so many mice. If they had grown, who knows how much food they would have destroyed.”
Jian Jia’s guilt eased. She glanced at the Qin brothers and at the wriggling mice. Her teeth itched again. “I am going to feed them to the snakes.”
Qin Yi paused and said apologetically, “I released that snake.” As a hunter, he had often caught snakes in the mountains, but this one had been found in their courtyard. There was an old belief that snakes in the house were protective spirits and should not be killed, so he let it go.
Jian Jia quickly changed her mind. “I will feed them to the dogs then.”
The dog, Jiang Jun, immediately stood up and nudged Jian Jia’s hand with its furry head, letting out a coaxing whine.
Qin Yi gave the dog a glance and said, “I will feed them later. You do not need to worry.” He then stood up with two plucked mountain chickens, “Would roasted chicken be okay?”
At the mention of roasted chicken, Jian Jia’s mouth watered. After skipping meals for several days, she nodded eagerly, “Yes.”
Qin Yi worked quickly. Soon, he had a fire going in the courtyard. Jian Jia’s eyes brightened as she and Qin Lang dragged small stools closer to the flames, eager to watch him roast the chickens.
When Jian Jia wondered how Qin Yi would cook them, he adjusted the fire and placed the two chickens into the flames after removing the wings, feet, and head.
Jian Jia stared wide-eyed. She had expected marination or seasoning. The chickens were roasted directly on the fire. The skin quickly changed from white to yellow and then blackened, oil sizzling as it dripped.
Jian Jia pressed a hand to her forehead. She had tasted Qin Yi’s rustic cooking before and should have known better.
After about fifteen minutes, Qin Yi pulled the chickens from the fire. They were blackened lumps, but he removed the charred exterior, revealing the tender pink meat inside. He tore off a leg for Jian Jia and one for Qin Lang, “They taste better with soy sauce.”
The meat was flavorful and near the bone still had some blood. Jian Jia chewed a piece, while Qin Lang quickly gnawed on his leg, leaving only deep teeth marks.
Jian Jia felt a strange sense of balance in her heart.
Qin Yi had not marinated the chickens, relying solely on soy sauce for flavor. Too much soy sauce made it salty, too little made it bland. Jian Jia struggled with the rustic taste. After finishing her leg, she and Qin Lang quickly moved away from the fire.
On her first night in the Qin household, Jian Jia had some discomfort. The mice she caught earlier had stirred up the larger ones. They ran along the beams, their scuttling noises unusually clear in the quiet night.
The stables were north of her room, separated by only a wall. At night, every sound of the horses was amplified. Occasionally a horse snorted loudly, scaring her nearly out of her skin.
The animals caused some disturbance, but that was not the main reason for her discomfort. From nightfall, she had already made several trips to the toilet. Her weak stomach could not handle Qin Yi’s rustic food.
The northwest door quietly opened. Legs sore, Jian Jia carried a lantern toward the kitchen, the dim light casting her pale face. The night was deep in the mountains, and the candlelight illuminated only a few feet ahead. Shadows beyond seemed full of unseen creatures waiting to leap out.
Even though she was not timid before, walking alone through dark alleys late at night, she felt fear creeping up her spine.
Suddenly, she felt the hairs on her back stand on end. She spun with the lantern, and a pale face appeared in the candlelight. Two bright eyes stared at her without blinking.
Fear consumed her. Her heart clenched, hair standing on end, and a scream stuck in her throat.
Qin Yi’s deep voice called out, “What is it?”
Realizing it was him, Jian Jia still trembled, eyes brimming with tears, voice sharp, “You scared me to death. Why are you following me at night instead of sleeping?”
Seeing her panicked face, Qin Yi realized he had frightened her. He pursed his lips, apologetic, “I saw you carrying the lantern and thought you needed help. We rarely use lights at night, so I must have startled you.”
Jian Jia’s heart slowly settled. She patted her chest, feeling her heartbeat return to normal, though still weak and exhausted. “I am a little thirsty and want some hot water.”
Qin Yi took the lantern from her and quickly headed to the kitchen, “I will boil some water.”
In the kitchen, candlelight glowed. Jian Jia sat on a small stool, leaning against a shelf. Qin Yi worked at the stove, the flickering flames illuminating his face as he occasionally glanced at her, “Are you all right?”
Jian Jia, exhausted and drooping, forced a nod, “I am fine, maybe just not used to it yet. I will be better in a couple of days. By the way, why are you still awake?”
Qin Yi did not look up, eyes fixed on the fire, “I am feeding the horses.”
She had heard the saying, “No night feed, no fat horse.” The horses were well-fed and strong, a sign of how attentive Qin Yi was. She admired him.
Jian Jia said, “Do you feed them every night? That is impressive.”
Qin Yi’s eyes were distant, “Not every night. Just these past few days I wanted them to eat more.”
Jian Jia guessed, “Because they traveled a lot and are tired?”
Qin Yi did not answer, only stirring the fire. Jian Jia adjusted her clothes, feeling the atmosphere grow tense. As she considered starting a conversation, Qin Yi emerged from behind the stove. He reached onto the shelf and retrieved a black clay jar.
Removing the lid, a strong aroma of liquor wafted out. Jian Jia looked at him, puzzled. Then he placed a small wooden spoon of light brown liquid before her.
Jian Jia was confused, and then shocked.
How did he know she needed it? She blushed fiercely.
It was so embarrassing. Qin Yi, really.