Chapter 11.1

When they got home, Zhou Yao said he had something to do and went out.

Left alone at home, Wen Yue took off the sheets and quilt covers from their room and threw them into a basin. They should have been washed yesterday, but she had forgotten.

The wooden basin was very large and heavy, and she struggled to drag it to the center of the yard. She went back and forth to the kitchen with a ladle to fetch water, until her legs ached from all the walking.

She really missed the fully automatic washing machine.

Supporting her aching back with her hands, Wen Yue sighed. Just as she was about to continue adding water to the basin, she caught a glimpse of Zhou Yao pushing open the courtyard gate and walking in, carrying a processed chicken in his hand.

She looked at the chicken curiously, “Where did the chicken come from?”

Zhou Yao replied lazily, “I specially stole it from someone else’s house to nourish you. How about that? Am I good to you?”

Wen Yue couldn’t be bothered to respond to him and turned back to the kitchen to fetch more water.

Zhou Yao took big strides into the kitchen, casually placing the chicken on the cutting board. Seeing her make several trips with the water, he couldn’t stand it anymore and snatched the ladle from her hand.

“Let me do it. You stand aside.”

He went straight to the wooden barrel, filled it with water, and easily carried the full barrel to the courtyard, pouring it into the basin. He squatted beside it, picked up the sheet, and gave it a few casual scrubs before planning to wring it out.

Wen Yue was shocked, “You’re done washing already?”

Zhou Yao raised an eyebrow, “A few scrubs will do.”

As a man, he never paid much attention to these things. When Grandma Zhou was still around, he would occasionally help with the laundry, but after she passed away, Zhou Yao’s life became quite rough.

Most rural men were like this. By comparison, he was already considered decent since he took a bath every day.

In the original owner’s memory, Uncle Wen Guoqiang only bathed once a week, and even in summer, he would only bathe every other day at best.

Wen Yue couldn’t accept this at all.

She pushed Zhou Yao gently, “Let me do it. You can just help me carry the water.”

Zhou Yao glanced at her, probably remembering her previous mention of being a clean freak. He stood up, shook his hands, and carried the bucket back to the kitchen.

He muttered in his heart, thinking that Wen Yue was more meticulous and troublesome than city girls.

But he didn’t say it out loud, afraid she would start crying again, which was very annoying.

Wen Yue squatted by the basin, holding a small bar of soap and rubbing it on the sheet, scrubbing back and forth with effort.

She washed very earnestly, but squatting for too long made her legs numb and uncomfortable.

Zhou Yao brought out a small stool from the kitchen and placed it beside her, “Sit down and wash.”

“Thank you.” Wen Yue was a bit stunned, then slowly stood up and sat on the stool. Her legs finally felt more comfortable.

With Zhou Yao’s help, Wen Yue managed to finish the washing fairly quickly. After rinsing twice, she called Zhou Yao over to help wring out the water.

Wen Yue intended for them to each take an end and wring in opposite directions.

Zhou Yao, finding it troublesome, grabbed the heavy, soaked sheet and gave it a firm twist, making the water gush out noisily.

His arm muscles bulged, straining his sleeves, and the veins on the back of his hand stood out starkly, though his face remained relaxed.

Watching the sheets and quilt covers sway gently in the breeze on the clothesline, Wen Yue nodded in satisfaction.

It was nearing noon.

Remembering the chicken Zhou Yao had brought back, she asked, “Chicken for lunch?”

“It’s up to you.” Zhou Yao replied nonchalantly.

Wen Yue thought for a moment, “Let’s have it for dinner. Half stewed and half braised. We’ll have braised pork for lunch, which is my specialty.”

This was her reward for Zhou Yao’s help in reclaiming the land.

Zhou Yao noticed her slightly proud expression and felt a bit of anticipation. Licking his lips, he said, “Sure, I’ll light the fire.”

Wen Yue said, “I remember there’s brown sugar in the cupboard. Can you get it for me?”

Braised pork was best made with rock sugar, but they didn’t have any. Brown sugar would do in a pinch.

“Okay.”

Zhou Yao agreed, but after taking a few steps towards the room, he stopped, “We should cook all the meat we have left, and leave half for Yeliang and Old Fang to try.”

Wen Yue didn’t mind and just asked, “Are they the two who came to the house the other day?”

“Yeah.” Zhou Yao stared at her, his eyebrows furrowing again when she didn’t say anything else, “Do you have a problem with them?”

Wen Yue was puzzled, “Why would I have a problem with them?”

She had just asked casually.

Zhou Yao lowered his eyes and scoffed lightly, “Because they have a bad reputation.”

Wen Yue was curious, “How bad? Worse than yours?”

Zhou Yao: “…”

After thinking for a moment, he said, “No, not really.”

Realizing that Wen Yue genuinely didn’t care, his expression returned to normal. He sat by the stove and said lazily, “They just have bad luck.”

Fang Shitao’s father died early.

When he was fifteen, his mother ran off with another man, leaving behind a sister who was not yet two years old and a grandmother in her fifties.

The teenage boy, as thin as a stick, often stole crops from villagers’ fields. Once, driven by hunger, he broke into Zhou Yao’s house to steal food and got beaten up.

Even while being beaten, he clung tightly to two sweet potatoes, saying they were for his grandmother and sister. Zhou Yao, seeing his pitiful state, only hit him a couple of times before letting him go, even throwing him a few sweet potatoes on his way out.

After that, Fang Shitao often followed Zhou Yao around. Though Zhou Yao seemed to disdain him, he frequently gave food to Grandma Fang and Fang Shitao’s sister in secret.

Ren Yeliang’s situation wasn’t much better.

The Ren family had three sons, and he was the middle one.

Their father favored the eldest, and their mother doted on the youngest, who was sweet-talking and smart, leaving Ren Yeliang in an awkward position. Neither parent cared for him, and both his brothers bullied him relentlessly, once nearly drowning him in the river. It was Zhou Yao who saved him.

From then on, Zhou Yao had two followers who stuck with him for years.

The three of them hadn’t done anything particularly bad in the village, but Zhou Yao’s temper was bad, Fang Shitao had stolen before, and Ren Yeliang’s brothers had blackened his name. They also didn’t work in the fields and often went out, which made them seem idle and suspicious to the villagers. Naturally, their reputation suffered. Parents sternly warned their children not to associate with Zhou Yao and his friends to avoid being led astray.

“Ah, they really are quite pitiful,” Wen Yue slowed her pace in cutting the meat, sympathy evident on her fair face.

Zhou Yao fell silent, his lips pressed into a straight line, his dark eyes showing a hint of confusion.

He didn’t understand why he felt the need to explain all this.

Did it matter if Wen Yue despised them?

Not at all.