“Hurry and wash your hands to eat if you’re hungry.”
After working all afternoon, Qiao Wan was famished herself.
The main room was stuffy, so Huo Yan simply moved the table outside into the yard.
Qiao Wan brought the dishes to the table—a large pot of fragrant pheasant stewed with potatoes, and a plate of refreshing smashed cucumber salad.
Though there were only two dishes, Qiao Wan had prepared ample portions.
She had noticed yesterday that Huo Yan had a huge appetite, so today she deliberately made extra.
There were two palm-sized clay pots of coarse rice. Qiao Wan scooped out a bowl for herself and pushed the rest in front of Huo Yan.
“Let’s eat!”
As soon as she finished speaking, Huo Yan picked up the rice pot and began eating with his head down.
The potatoes were soft and soaked up the broth, the pheasant meat was tender and flavorful, and the cucumbers, unlike the day before, weren’t just salty.
Qiao Wan had added sugar, vinegar, chili, and minced garlic, making them exceptionally refreshing.
By the end of the meal, Huo Yan was sweating profusely, feeling deeply satisfied both physically and mentally.
Seeing Qiao Wan set down her chopsticks, he poured the remaining potatoes and broth into his bowl and devoured every last bite.
There’s nothing a cook loves more than seeing the food they prepared completely finished. Huo Yan’s hearty eating style filled Qiao Wan with a sense of accomplishment.
After the meal, Huo Yan took the initiative to wash the dishes, while Qiao Wan smashed the remaining wild apricots, mixed them with chili, salt, and sugar, and brought the snack to the table.
Drying his hands, Huo Yan saw this way of eating apricots for the first time and found it rather novel.
He picked up a piece and put it in his mouth, his eyes widening suddenly.
“Good, right?” Seeing Huo Yan’s rare look of surprise, Qiao Wan chuckled softly.
“Mm.”
Huo Yan quickly returned to his usual indifference, but his hands didn’t stop. He ate two more in a row, then stared at the three left at the bottom of the bowl and said, “When I go up the mountain this time, I’ll pick more of these.”
“You’re going up the mountain?”
Qiao Wan pushed the bowl closer to him. She herself could only eat one without her teeth aching; any more and she feared her stomach would be upset at night. Her belly had finally gotten a bit of nourishment, and she wanted it to rest peacefully for the night.
Seeing this, Huo Yan didn’t hesitate. He quickly finished the remaining apricots, washed the bowl, went inside, and brought out a money pouch, handing it to Qiao Wan.
“I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”
Qiao Wan, holding the heavy, somewhat old but clean coarse cloth money pouch, was taken aback.
Leaving tomorrow? So soon?
The pouch felt substantial in her hand; it clearly contained more than just a few copper coins.
Was he… giving all his savings to her just like that?
“How many days will you be gone?”
Qiao Wan looked up at Huo Yan and saw that he had already picked up a cleaver and started building the chicken coop. She followed him over to help pass the thorny branches.
“Hard to say.” Huo Yan didn’t look up, swiftly cutting the branches neatly at the base. “Quickest would be seven or eight days, slowest ten days to half a month, depending on the harvest.”
The mountain conditions were unpredictable—prey trails and weather changes were uncertain. Qiao Wan understood this.
“Then… I’ll prepare some dry provisions for you to take.” Qiao Wan stood up, brushing off her hands as she headed toward the kitchen.
“No need.” Huo Yan finally stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “I won’t go hungry in the mountains. Keep what’s at home for yourself.”
His tone was still flat, but it cut off Qiao Wan’s next words. He was accustomed to roughing it and didn’t think getting married should change that.
Qiao Wan fell silent, quietly continuing to pass him the thorny branches.
Huo Yan was efficient in his work and quick-witted. With just a simple description from Qiao Wan about the style of the chicken and rabbit coop she wanted, he built it without hesitation.
“Let’s keep it simple like this for now. When I return, I’ll use yellow mud to build a sturdier one for the chickens.”
Since Huo Yan had many preparations to make for tomorrow’s trip up the mountain, he lit an oil lamp in the east wing to check his bow and arrows and prepare medicinal powders. Qiao Wan went to bed early.
The next morning, before dawn, Qiao Wan was already up.
She washed her hands and went straight to the kitchen, lighting the fire to boil water. She poured all the coarse flour bought from the county town the day before into a basin, added half a spoonful of salt, poured in hot water, and mixed it into a smooth dough.
Huo Yan had worked late into the night and originally planned to set off early. To his surprise, when he woke up, the sky was already bright, and the room was filled with a faint, tantalizing aroma of oil.
Noticing the long-cold bedding beside him, Huo Yan paused as he dressed.
Could it be that this girl, afraid he’d go hungry on the journey, had gotten up early to cook for him?
Following the scent, Huo Yan entered the kitchen. Qiao Wan was scooping the last golden, crispy pancake from the pan and placing it on a small stack of pancakes nearby.
The kitchen was steamy, and fine beads of sweat dotted Qiao Wan’s temples. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the heat of the stove.
Hearing footsteps, Qiao Wan turned and saw Huo Yan standing at the door, a rare look of surprise in his eyes.
“Awake?” Qiao Wan wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve and smiled at him. “The hen laid an egg this morning, so I made a vegetable and egg soup to go with the pancakes.”
Huo Yan’s gaze swept over the stack of pancakes—the portion was generous, far more than she could eat alone in one meal. Then he looked at the bowl of soup, and a corner of his heart seemed softened and tinged with a bittersweet warmth by the gentle steam.
He was used to being alone, used to leaving home to a cold stove and empty pots, and even used to venturing into the mountains hungry to forage for food. No one had ever gotten up early specifically to prepare him a proper meal before he left home.
“What are you standing there for? Eat quickly before it gets cold,” Qiao Wan urged when she saw him motionless. She picked up a pancake herself, took a bite, and mumbled, “I used a bit of lard in the last few pancakes, thinking something savory in the morning would keep you fuller longer.”
Huo Yan silently walked to the table, sat down, and picked up a pancake.
The pancake was crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, with the simple fragrance of wheat and just the right amount of salt. Finely chopped wild scallions were kneaded into the dough, making each bite burst with flavor.
As Qiao Wan nibbled on her pancake, she stole glances at him.
Seeing him enjoy the food, the slight regret she felt from waking up early and using up their stored provisions faded away.
She believed in showing gratitude. Since Huo Yan had given her all his savings, Qiao Wan wanted to repay him in some way.
From a young age, she knew that favors were the hardest to repay. Her marriage to Huo Yan was out of necessity, and since she believed they would part sooner or later, she tried to make up for it as much as she could within her means. That way, when the time came to separate, it would be cleaner.
Huo Yan ate five or six pancakes in a row before slowing down. Finally, he drank the last of the egg soup from the bowl.
“I’m heading up the mountain!”
Huo Yan stood up, slung the bow, arrows, and firewood knife he had prepared the night before over his shoulder, and was about to leave when Qiao Wan hurriedly handed him a cloth bundle.
“These are scalded dough pancakes I made for you. They won’t harden even when cold. Take them with you to eat when you’re hungry.”
Just as Huo Yan had suspected, Qiao Wan had indeed gotten up early to prepare provisions for him.
He stared at the cloth bundle still steaming with heat, recalling his childhood when his father took him up the mountain with the villagers. Everyone else had food prepared by their families—only he and his father had nothing.
Back then, he was young and complained to his mother about why she hadn’t prepared food for him and his father.
What had she said back then?
“You don’t deserve it!”
For so many years, those three words had been like a thorn piercing Huo Yan’s heart. Every time he faced unfairness, he felt it was because he didn’t deserve better.
But now, someone had actually prepared provisions for him.
Huo Yan’s jaw tightened. He pushed the cloth bundle back. “I don’t need it!”
“It was made for you. Just take it when it’s given to you,” Qiao Wan insisted, shoving the bundle into his arms. She continued earnestly, “Make sure to boil the mountain spring water before drinking it. If you encounter wild beasts, don’t stubbornly confront them—run if you have to. There’s no shame in it. Your life matters most.”
Qiao Wan chattered on and on, truly like a young wife seeing her husband off on a journey.