The atmosphere froze for a moment.
Seeing this, Granny Zhou quickly stepped in to smooth things over, offering auspicious blessings like “A harmonious union lasting a hundred years” and “May you soon have a son.” She pulled a few shriveled red dates and peanuts from her pocket and pressed them into Qiao Wan’s hands, thus completing the final wedding rites.
Huo Yan seemed completely uninterested. His gaze lingered on Qiao Wan’s face for a brief moment before shifting away, as if merely confirming an item was in order.
He said to Granny Zhou, “I’ll see you back to the village.” His tone remained flat, even polite.
Without another glance at Qiao Wan, he turned and strode out of the courtyard: “There’s food in the kitchen. Fix yourself something to eat.” Before the words fully faded, he had already passed through the gate.
Granny Zhou watched Huo Yan’s retreating back—devoid of any attachment—then looked at Qiao Wan standing alone in the main room, clutching a few dried fruits in her hand, her wedding dress making her appear especially frail. She opened her mouth to speak but ultimately only sighed.
“Wan girl…” Granny Zhou patted Qiao Wan’s hand and said quietly, “Since you’re here now… just… make the best of it. Huo Yan… his nature is a bit cold, but… he’s not a bad person.” Even she sounded somewhat unconvinced by her own words.
Qiao Wan took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in her heart, and offered Granny Zhou a relatively calm smile. “Thank you, Granny. I understand. You’ve worked hard today.”
After seeing off Granny Zhou, who kept looking back every few steps, Qiao Wan stood alone in the empty main room. She glanced around, taking in the place where she would need to settle and build her life from now on.
Huo Yan’s courtyard wasn’t large. Facing south were the main bedroom and the central hall. To the west were the kitchen and a woodshed. On the east side was a wing room, its door half-open, revealing bows, arrows, some farming tools, and clay pots inside.
Qiao Wan changed out of her wedding dress, put her things away, and went into the kitchen.
The kitchen, much like Huo Yan’s courtyard, was sparsely stocked. There was only a sack of coarse rice, some salt, a piece of wind-dried cured meat, and little else. It couldn’t have been more basic.
Seeing how generously he had spent on marrying a wife, Qiao Wan had assumed his home would be fully equipped.
But there wasn’t even any oil, instantly dousing her enthusiasm to showcase her culinary skills.
Qiao Wan rinsed the rice and let it soak in the pot for about fifteen minutes until the grains could be easily broken between her fingers, then started steaming it.
While waiting for the rice to cook, she took a walk around the courtyard.
Qiao Fugeng had said Huo Yan’s yard had no obstructions in front or behind. Qiao Wan thought her father had been too understated.
In front of Huo Yan’s courtyard lay a vast stretch of wasteland, roughly three to four acres. The garden at the back was also sizable, though filled with vegetables, making its exact dimensions hard to gauge.
Qiao Wan had loved cooking since she was young—partly to ensure clean, healthy meals that would nourish her body, and partly to save money. The sight of this garden full of vegetables thrilled her.
She picked a handful of chili peppers and returned to the kitchen just as the rice was ready. After washing the cured meat and slicing it thinly, she prepared a spicy stir-fry with the meat and chilies.
When Huo Yan returned after escorting the cart, he caught a pungent, spicy aroma as soon as he entered the courtyard.
He paused mid-step, slightly surprised. The smell… strongly resembled the scents wafting from village households at dusk.
At the kitchen door, Qiao Wan emerged holding a bowl and happened to see Huo Yan standing in the yard.
Her clothes were clearly old garments altered from larger ones, and she had tied a strip of cloth around her waist as an apron.
A light sweat glistened at her temples, and her cheeks were flushed pink from the kitchen heat.
Their eyes met, and Qiao Wan felt somewhat uneasy.
She spoke first: “The meal is ready. Shall we eat outside or in the main hall?”
Huo Yan only paused briefly, his gaze sweeping over the plate of glistening, aromatic spicy stir-fried cured meat in her hands before replying in a low voice:
“Either is fine.”
“There’s still some lingering heat. Let’s eat in the main hall.”
Qiao Wan was never one to hesitate. Since Huo Yan said either was fine, she took charge directly. While he washed his face and hands, she wiped the table and brought the food into the main hall.
“Just bring two bowls of rice over,” Qiao Wan arranged the chopsticks and called out to Huo Yan.
Huo Yan raised an eyebrow toward the main hall before turning to enter the kitchen.
At the dining table, the two sat in silence.
Huo Yan picked up his chopsticks and took a piece of cured meat. It was perfectly cooked—the fatty parts rich but not greasy, the lean parts tender and not dry. The spiciness of the chili balanced perfectly with the savory saltiness of the cured meat.
Having spent years roaming the mountains, he mostly ate game roasted with a sprinkle of salt just to fill his stomach. Though he often ate it, that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.
He couldn’t even remember how old he was the last time he had a home-cooked meal like this.
Huo Yan ate quickly but not rudely, focused and silent.
Qiao Wan kept her head down as she ate, secretly observing Huo Yan’s reaction. Though his expression remained neutral, the speed at which he reached for more food reassured her slightly.
As long as he wasn’t picky, she wouldn’t need to resort to her embroidery needles.
His bowl was soon empty. Huo Yan went to refill it and, noticing Qiao Wan’s bowl was also clean, asked:
“More rice?”
Qiao Wan shook her head. “I’m full.”
As she finished speaking, Huo Yan took his bowl and left again, soon returning with a heaping portion before sitting down to continue eating.
“We need to restock the seasonings in the kitchen. There’s no oil either,” Qiao Wan murmured, listing what was missing.
Other things could be managed, but not food. Qiao Wan had never been one to deprive herself when it came to eating.
Huo Yan merely grunted in acknowledgment before immersing himself in his meal, saying nothing more.
After the meal, Huo Yan took the initiative to clear the dishes and wash them in the kitchen. When Qiao Wan moved to help, a glance from him stopped her.
He scrubbed the pot and washed the bowls with practiced ease, as if accustomed to such tasks.
Once everything was tidy, Huo Yan dried his hands and turned to Qiao Wan, his tone returning to its earlier flatness: “Rest first. I’ll be back before dark. As for what’s missing at home…” He paused before continuing, “We’ll go to town tomorrow to buy it.”
Without waiting for her reply, he pushed open the door to the east wing, took down his bow and arrows from the wall, and left, leaving Qiao Wan alone in the empty main hall.
Qiao Wan stood watching Huo Yan’s back disappear into the golden sunset light, then let out a sharp exhale.
Tonight was their wedding night, and she had been somewhat nervous.
Seeing that Huo Yan didn’t seem concerned about it, her tension vanished, replaced by a complicated sense of relief.
Just as well—it saved them both the awkwardness.
The sky gradually darkened, and the mountain breeze brought a slight chill.
Qiao Wan tidied the main hall and kitchen, then went to the backyard to pick some fresh greens for porridge the next morning.
After washing up, she hesitated at the main bedroom door before stepping inside.
She wrapped herself in the cotton wedding quilt, extinguished the lamp, and soon drifted into a hazy sleep.
Suddenly her body went weightless as she was pressed into the bed by a scorching, firm chest, carrying the intense scent of a man.
The tightly wrapped quilt had somehow been thrown open, and the slightly cool air instantly sent a shiver through Qiao Wan.
Her eyes snapped open, only to meet Huo Yan’s bottomless gaze, startling her so deeply that her heart trembled.
“Beast!”
Overwhelmed by shock and fury, it was almost instinctive—Qiao Wan raised her hand and swung.
A sharp slap echoed, startlingly clear in the silent night.
Her wrist was seized abruptly, the grip so forceful it felt as though her bones might shatter.
Fury surged in Huo Yan’s eyes, his darkened face appearing even more menacing in the faint light. He leaned in closer, his cold, oppressive aura completely enveloping her.
“Beast?” Huo Yan’s voice was dangerously low, each word seeming to grind out from between his teeth. “Qiao Wan, did you really think I married you just to have you sit around and look pretty?”