After finishing his tea, Zhou Song returned to the carriage to drop off some items. He didn’t let Shen Qingzhu come along—firstly, he could move faster on his own, and secondly, he didn’t want Shen Qingzhu to have to run back and forth.

When he returned to the tea stand, he was surprised to find Lin Erzhu and the others sitting with Shen Qingzhu. It was a coincidence—they, too, had wanted a break and a cup of tea and ended up at the same spot. The middle-aged couple had finished resting and gave them their seats, while the other man had already left.

Since they’d met up again, they decided to continue shopping together. Lin Erzhu also took the chance to head back and empty his basket.

By late afternoon, everyone had finally finished shopping. With the short winter days, any more delay would mean traveling home in the dark, which could be risky.

After a long day, everyone was tired. Lin Erzhu took over driving the carriage on the way back, setting a faster pace than on the way there, so there wasn’t much chatter.

By the time it was completely dark, they had finally arrived at the village entrance. Zhou Song lit the small lantern hanging outside the carriage, casting a soft glow over the front.

They dropped Wu Lanshu off first, helping her carry her things inside. She wanted to invite everyone to stay for dinner, but they all politely declined—they still had things to organize back home.

Besides, both Lin Erzhu and Aunt Qian were eager to see Xiaobao, whom they’d missed all day. With Liu Fang alone at home, they weren’t sure if she’d been able to handle him.

When they arrived at Lin Erzhu’s home, Liu Fang had already opened the door, having heard the carriage. Lin Erzhu brought the carriage to a stop and hopped down. “Why’d you come out? It’s freezing.”

“It’s nothing; I’ve been indoors all day and wanted some fresh air,” Liu Fang shook her head, indicating she was fine.

Seeing she was bundled up warmly, Lin Erzhu didn’t say more. “How’s Xiaobao?”

“He just finished eating and went to sleep.” Liu Fang opened the door wide, letting Zhou Song and Lin Erzhu bring in the bags.

Aunt Qian got down from the carriage and gently nudged Liu Fang back inside, saying, “Hurry, go inside before you catch a cold. It’s not worth it if you get sick.”

Liu Fang reluctantly went inside, not forgetting to nod in greeting to Shen Qingzhu, who was peeking out from the carriage curtains.

Shen Qingzhu returned her nod with a smile.

“Qingzhu, how about you and Zhou Song stay here for dinner before heading back? Save you from having to cook when you get home,” Aunt Qian offered as she saw Liu Fang disappear into the house.

“There’s no need, Auntie. We have quite a few things to organize at home. We’ll come over to visit another time,” Shen Qingzhu replied, politely declining.

Aunt Qian nodded in understanding. “Alright, then. Let’s get together another time.”

Just then, Zhou Song finished unloading the bags, gave a quick goodbye to Aunt Qian, and climbed back up to the driver’s seat. “We’ll be off, Auntie.”

Aunt Qian waved them off, watching them drive away before heading back inside.

Since their home was only a few steps away, the horse didn’t even pick up speed before they arrived. Zhou Song hopped down first, unlocking the main gate, which had been widened during recent repairs to accommodate the carriage. He planned to put the horse in the cowshed and return it to Wu Lanshu the next day.

Wu Lanshu had previously suggested they keep the carriage at their place for convenience, but Zhou Song figured that he already had an ox cart for transporting goods, and it would only be a short trip to pick up the carriage if needed.

Moreover, since Wu Lanshu lived alone, it would be useful for her to have a carriage, and the clever horse could keep her company.

After unlocking the gate, Zhou Song turned around to see Shen Qingzhu holding onto the side of the carriage, preparing to jump down. He quickly strode over to steady him. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

With Zhou Song’s help, Shen Qingzhu climbed down and straightened his clothing. “It’s not that high. I can manage on my own.”

Zhou Song frowned in disapproval. “Next time, call me.”

Shen Qingzhu didn’t argue and simply nodded with a smile.

Zhou Song gestured for him to go inside first, then took hold of the reins and led the horse through the gate.

They’d bought quite a few things today—both groceries and household items. Zhou Song focused on taking things to the kitchen, while Shen Qingzhu sorted out the ink and brushes, heading toward the study to put them away.

“Hold on, take the lamp with you,” Zhou Song said as he lit an oil lamp and handed Shen Qingzhu the small lantern they’d taken off the carriage. “It’s dark in there. Don’t trip.”

Taking the lantern, Shen Qingzhu made his way to the study. He pushed open the door, and the dim light illuminated the room. He put away the ink and organized the desk, tidying up the used items.

Zhou Song’s progress in his studies had been impressive lately. In addition to copying poems, Shen Qingzhu had started explaining their meanings to him. Zhou Song, with his sharp mind, was quick to grasp everything and diligently wrote down what Shen Qingzhu taught him, even reading it over in his spare time.

He was a student any teacher would be proud of.

With a soft smile, Shen Qingzhu carefully arranged the sheets with Zhou Song’s copied poems.

When he finished in the study, Zhou Song had also wrapped up his tasks, even lighting the furnace to warm up the room. He dusted off his hands and asked Shen Qingzhu what he’d like to eat.

Shen Qingzhu wasn’t too hungry, but knowing Zhou Song’s appetite, he figured lunch was long gone. If he didn’t eat, Zhou Song might be reluctant to eat on his own. “Let’s see what’s in the kitchen and make something simple.”

After thinking for a moment, Zhou Song recalled the vermicelli noodles they’d brought back from Aunt Qian, which he’d been meaning to turn into a soup. “How about vermicelli soup?”

Shen Qingzhu wasn’t sure what vermicelli soup was, but he remembered enjoying the vermicelli at the village’s pork feast, so he nodded.

Zhou Song quickly went into the kitchen, washed his hands, and set some vermicelli to soak. He then took out the pork belly Aunt Qian had sent over yesterday.

Shen Qingzhu followed him into the kitchen, intending to help wash vegetables.

Zhou Song stopped him. “I haven’t put away everything we brought inside. Could you handle that? I’ll be quick in here; there’s no need to help.”

Since he insisted, Shen Qingzhu left the kitchen.

Ever since their marriage, Zhou Song barely let Shen Qingzhu handle any household chores. They’d discussed it once, and Zhou Song had held his hand, saying, “I didn’t marry you to make you work. If being with me changes the life you’re used to, it would make me sad.”

Both Wu Lanshu and Zhou Song wanted him to continue being the carefree young master he once was, with nothing to worry about beyond reading and writing.

Shen Qingzhu knew this was their way of caring for him, and though he felt a bit helpless, he didn’t want to reject their kindness.

He reached out and lightly touched Zhou Song’s cheek, saying, “I’ll go inside, then. Call me if you need anything.”

Zhou Song leaned into his hand, rubbing it affectionately. “Alright.”

After Shen Qingzhu left, Zhou Song focused on cooking. These were tasks he was accustomed to, so he moved quickly.

When Shen Qingzhu returned to the main room, the candle was already lit—Zhou Song must have done it earlier. The furnace was warm, dispelling the chill that had settled in the room during the day. Shen Qingzhu took off his cloak and hung it up.

The table wasn’t piled with much, just the clothes and fabric they’d bought. He suddenly remembered they hadn’t distributed the items for Wu Lanshu and Aunt Qian, making a mental note to do so the next day.

With New Year’s Eve only two days away, he’d need to write the couplets they’d bought red paper for. Zhou Song had initially wanted to buy pre-made ones, as he’d done every year, but Shen Qingzhu thought it would be more meaningful to write them himself, just as his mother had done with him in the capital.

Thinking of this, a pang of sadness hit him. Last New Year’s Eve, he hadn’t realized it would be his family’s last gathering.

And his sister—alone in that bitter, cold place—he wondered if she had new clothes for the holiday…

Lowering his gaze, he found himself unconsciously rubbing the smooth fabric, lost in thought.

Zhou Song entered and saw him standing still by the table, lost in his own world. “Qingzhu?”

His voice brought Shen Qingzhu back to reality. He turned, his expression unreadable. “What are you doing here?”

“Dinner’s nearly ready.” Zhou Song walked over.

Shen Qingzhu blinked, realizing he’d been standing there, lost in thought, for a while.

Seeing the table still cluttered and Shen Qingzhu staring off into space, Zhou Song asked with concern, “Are you alright? You’re not too tired, are you?”

“No,” Shen Qingzhu shook his head, “I was just thinking about delivering the items to Auntie and writing the couplets tomorrow. My mind wandered.”

Seeing that his face showed no signs of discomfort, Zhou Song relaxed, reaching out to touch his cheek. “There’s still time. No need to worry about it.”

Shen Qingzhu nodded with a smile, then noticed how warm Zhou Song’s hands were. “Why are you so warm?”

Zhou Song’s hands were always warm, but today they seemed even warmer than usual.

“It’s probably from standing near the stove for so long,” Zhou Song said, clenching his hand. “I feel a bit hot.”

“Make sure you’re not getting sick.” Shen Qingzhu touched Zhou Song’s forehead but didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary.

“Impossible. I’m as healthy as an ox,” Zhou Song said, pulling his hand down and holding it in his.

He did look quite healthy, so Shen Qingzhu didn’t press further, though he still suggested, “Let’s rest early after dinner. You must be tired after today.”

Zhou Song wasn’t tired at all; he even felt he could run up a mountain. But he appreciated Kun Ze’s care, nodding obediently. “Alright.”

They ate without the usual fuss in the main hall, instead setting up a small table in the kitchen, enjoying the warmth of the stove as they ate hot vermicelli soup.

The pork belly Zhou Song had fried beforehand, rendering it with just the right amount of oil, was flavorful but not greasy. The fresh cabbage from their garden was an excellent addition.

Shen Qingzhu wasn’t too hungry and only finished a small bowl, sitting with Zhou Song until he was done. Then they cleared the table together.

Perhaps from the hot soup, Zhou Song seemed flushed, even loosening his collar.

He poured some warm water for Shen Qingzhu to wash up, and once everything was ready, they finally lay down to rest around midnight.

After lying down, Shen Qingzhu quickly began to doze off from the day’s exhaustion. But just as he was about to drift off, he felt Zhou Song shift beside him, careful not to disturb him.

A few moments later, Zhou Song shifted again. Even though he tried to be quiet, Shen Qingzhu felt it on the shared bed.

Half-asleep, Shen Qingzhu opened his eyes, his voice groggy. “Can’t sleep?”

Zhou Song stopped mid-turn, looking over at him in the dark. “Did I wake you?”

Shen Qingzhu shook his head, realizing he wouldn’t see it, and replied, “No. When I couldn’t sleep as a child, my mother would read to me. Do you want me to read you a story?”

Hearing the teasing in his voice, Zhou Song hesitated, then shuffled closer, pulling him into his arms and inhaling his orchid-scented hair. “Go to sleep. I’ll fall asleep soon too.”

Zhou Song’s body was warm, almost like a human heater. Shen Qingzhu, naturally drawn to the warmth, nestled in closer and closed his eyes.

At first, he didn’t notice anything unusual, but as the faint scent of pine intensified, Zhou Song’s grip around him tightened. Shen Qingzhu’s eyes flew open. “Is it…is your rut starting?”

Zhou Song was silent for a while before finally answering, “No.”

“No?” Shen Qingzhu frowned, pressing closer. Sensing the heat radiating from Zhou Song’s body, he raised a brow. “Still insisting it’s not?”

“It really isn’t…” Zhou Song’s voice sounded a bit aggrieved. “I think it’s from all that lamb at lunch…”

Shen Qingzhu blinked, realizing that lamb was indeed a warming food. With his constitution, it wasn’t an issue, but for a hot-blooded man like Zhou Song, it would indeed have such an effect, especially since he’d eaten most of the lamb and even finished off the noodles.

For some reason, Shen Qingzhu found the situation amusing, especially hearing Zhou Song’s slightly embarrassed tone.

Apparently, Zhou Song felt awkward as well, staying silent.

Resting his hand on Zhou Song’s chest, Shen Qingzhu traced slow circles with his fingertip. Feeling Zhou Song’s body tense, he asked, “Do you want me to help?”

Zhou Song’s abdomen tightened, and he grabbed Shen Qingzhu’s hand to stop his teasing. “You should rest; it’s been a long day.”

Though Zhou Song spoke seriously, he was clearly trying to hold back, judging by his body’s response.

Shen Qingzhu leaned close, whispering into his ear, “Husband, satisfying you is part of my duty.”

His warm breath tickled Zhou Song’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine as he clenched his teeth. It had been a long day out, and he didn’t want to tire Shen Qingzhu further.

But Shen Qingzhu was relentless. With a soft chuckle, he cupped Zhou Song’s face, the orchid scent intensifying. “Husband, let me take care of you.”

Then he leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on the corner of Zhou Song’s mouth.

If Zhou Song could hold back after that, he wouldn’t be himself. He closed his eyes, rolling over and capturing Shen Qingzhu’s teasing lips, silencing any further words.

In the darkness, their breathing grew faster, mingling with the quiet sound of fabric rustling and tearing.