Lu Xiangbei stood there, his face dark.
In the end, he resigned himself. He hoisted up the iron pot—bigger than his upper body—and marched toward the well with an aggressive air.
Fine. He’d scrub it!
For tomorrow’s chicken!
…
Inside the room—
Su Ci shut the door, cutting off the noise outside.
She took out a full set of toiletries from her space.
The island climate was hot and humid—her body felt sticky and uncomfortable. Not bathing was unbearable.
But there was no shower here.
No bathtub.
Only that big iron pot—which, if not cleaned properly, might still have grease floating in it.
Su Ci sighed.
It’s easy to go from frugality to luxury—but hard to go back.
She lingered inside for ten minutes, estimating the pot should be clean by now, then stepped out with a change of clothes.
In the courtyard—
Lu Xiangbei crouched by the well, scrubbing the pot with straw dipped in plant ash.
The ferocity in his movements made it look like he was scrubbing an enemy’s skin.
To be fair—he was good at working.
The bottom of the pot shone so brightly it could be used as a mirror.
Su Ci walked lightly over in her cloth shoes.
Beside the well sat an old wooden bucket.
The rim was worn smooth, tied with a rough yellowing hemp rope.
“Ahem.”
She cleared her throat.
Without turning around, Lu Xiangbei muttered, “What? I haven’t finished washing the bowls yet.”
“I want to bathe.”
Su Ci said it matter-of-factly.
His hands paused.
He turned his head and looked at her like she was an idiot.
“Then go to the bathhouse! Why tell me?”
“I like being clean. I don’t use public bathhouses.”
She pointed at the well.
“Help me draw water. Heat it.”
Lu Xiangbei threw the straw to the ground and stood up.
At around 1.7 meters tall, though thin, he carried the pressure of a growing boy.
“Su Ci, don’t push your luck!”
he growled, like a cornered wolf.
“I ate your food, but I’m not your servant!”
“You did eat my food, didn’t you?”
Instead of backing down, Su Ci stepped closer.
She tilted her head slightly, her peach-blossom eyes shimmering with amusement.
“Since you ate mine, what’s wrong with doing a little work?”
“If you don’t want to…”
Her gaze shifted to the wooden bucket.
“I’ll do it myself.”
Lu Xiangbei snorted and crossed his arms, standing aside.
That bucket alone weighed over twenty jin.
Filled with water, it would be even heavier.
With her thin arms?
Who was she trying to fool?
Su Ci walked to the well.
She bent down—
Slowly, like a movie in slow motion.
Her hands grasped the coarse hemp rope full of splinters.
She inhaled.
Pulled.
The bucket lifted three inches—
“Ah—!”
A soft cry.
Her grip loosened. The bucket slammed back down with a dull thud.
She jerked her hands back as if burned, clutching them to her chest.
Her brows furrowed. Her eyes instantly reddened.
“It hurts…”
Her voice trembled, soft and delicate.
She turned and held her hand out in front of him.
“Look…”
Lu Xiangbei instinctively lowered his gaze.
His pupils shrank.
What kind of hands were those?
White like freshly peeled lychee flesh, tinged with pink.
Smooth fingertips—no calluses at all.
And now—
A red swollen mark stretched across her palm.
Against her pale skin, it looked shocking.
Like a flawless piece of porcelain marred by a deep scratch.
Lu Xiangbei felt like his throat was stuffed with cotton.
This was… too delicate.
Women in the village could carry loads for miles.
She lifted an empty bucket once—
And this happened?
“Are you made of paper or something?”
he mocked, though his body stiffened awkwardly.
He didn’t even dare breathe too hard, afraid he might blow this porcelain doll away.
Tears shimmered in Su Ci’s eyes, on the verge of falling.
She gently blew on her palm.
“It really is heavy…”
“Lu Xiangbei, my hand’s going to break.”
“Tomorrow… I probably won’t even be able to hold a spatula. Let alone cook chicken.”
A killing move.
The blade revealed at last.
Lu Xiangbei’s mouth twitched.
Threat.
Blatant threat!
He knew she was acting.
Knew she was being lazy.
But looking at that red mark—and thinking about tomorrow’s fried chicken—
The balance in his heart shattered.
“Alright, alright! Stop whining!”
He shoved her aside roughly, hiding his fluster.
“Move! You’re in the way!”
He grabbed the rope.
The same rope that had nearly “killed” Su Ci now behaved like soft noodles in his hands.
Splash—
The bucket dropped into the well.
A flick of his wrist—water surged.
With a steady pull—
A full bucket landed firmly on the well platform.
Not a drop spilled.
He poured it into the big pot.
Again.
And again.
In less than five minutes, the pot was filled to the brim.
Sweat formed on his forehead, rolling down his sharp jawline.
He wiped his face and glared at Su Ci.
“It’s full! Firewood’s over there—do it your—”
Before he finished—
Su Ci handed him something.
A small oil-paper-wrapped package.
Even through the paper, a strange sweet aroma seeped out.
Not like the simple milky sweetness of White Rabbit candy.
It was richer, deeper—with a hint of bitterness.
“What is this?”
Lu Xiangbei looked wary.
“Your wages.”
She pressed it into his hand, her fingertips brushing his rough skin—cool and smooth.
He jerked back like electrocuted.
He opened the paper.
Inside was a dark brown square, studded with bits of hazelnut.
In this era—
That color usually meant bitter medicine.
But the smell… was irresistible.
“It’s called chocolate.”
Su Ci leaned against the doorframe, towel in hand, speaking casually.
“I don’t like owing people favors.”
“Heat the water to forty degrees. Too hot and my skin will peel.”
Then she turned and went inside—
Leaving behind a figure both elegant and ridiculously fussy.
Lu Xiangbei held the “black brick.”
Hesitated three seconds.
Then carefully bit off a small piece.
…!!!
The moment it touched his tongue—
His eyes widened.
Silky.
That was the first sensation.
Then came the rich cocoa flavor, mixed with the crunch of hazelnuts—
Exploding in his mouth.
A slight bitterness—
Followed by a long, intense sweetness.
Delicious.
So delicious it made him want to cry.
Even better than the braised pork.
It hit straight to his brain.
The sweetest thing he’d ever had before was brown sugar water.
Compared to this—
That was basically dishwater.
He didn’t dare chew more.
He let the rest melt slowly in his mouth.
The sweetness flowed into his heart—
Softening a corner of his resistance toward this “stepmother.”
He crouched by the stove, feeding in firewood, savoring the taste.
The firelight illuminated his still-youthful face.
He touched his burning ears.
And suddenly felt—
Having such a delicate sister-in-law…
might not be entirely bad.
At least—
This “free meal” tasted unbelievably good.
…
Dawn broke.
Seagull Island’s morning carried a damp, salty air.
Thud!Thud!
Heavy sounds came from the courtyard.
Su Ci frowned.
She buried her face deeper into the soft latex pillow.
But the noise persisted, like rhythmic drumming, slipping through the window cracks.
Who was it?
What time was it?
Couldn’t they let people sleep?
Annoyed, Su Ci reluctantly stretched an arm out from the covers.
Her pale skin glowed softly in the morning light.
She scratched her seaweed-like long hair and walked barefoot to the window.
Two fingers lifted the curtain.
The sight outside made her raise an eyebrow.
Lu Xiangbei was shirtless.
His back was thin, ribs visible, but faint muscle lines had begun to form.
Sweat trickled down his dark spine.
He swung a chipped axe—
Again and again—
Chopping stubborn firewood.
Beside him—
Lu Xiangnan held a broom taller than herself, battling dust.
Even Lu Xiangdong—
who could barely walk a few steps without panting—
sat by the well on a small stool.
He held a rag, carefully wiping the enamel basin from last night.
The three of them—
Silent.
Expressionless.
Like emotionless machines.
Their faces carried the numbness of forced labor.
Clearly—
The aftereffects of last night’s braised pork and chocolate were still there.
But the motivation was passive.
Even resentful.
Su Ci leaned against the window frame, tapping lightly.
Tsk.
This wouldn’t do.
As a mature capitalist—no, as the lady of the house—
She didn’t want a group that moved only when pushed.
She wanted wolves.
People with fire in their eyes.
Driven.
Motivated.
A one-time reward couldn’t raise loyal followers.
There had to be a system.
A “carrot” they could see, almost touch—
But only reach by striving.
A playful smile curved on Su Ci’s lips.
She turned back to the table.
Opened her large canvas bag—
Her treasure chest.
From it, she pulled out a stack of paper.
Snow-white and smooth—
In this era, where even rough paper felt like sandpaper—
It was luxury itself.