Chapter 51 Fashionable Collar

Zhang Shuying tried to talk her son down, her phoenix eyes watching him—Xie Yan, wearing a sweater with a shirt collar tucked inside. For a moment, she felt like she didn’t recognize her own son. All the young people on the street were dressing like this now, and her son was following the trend too. Unbelievable. Just like his father—when he pursued her back then, he always dressed sharp and spirited, which indeed made him quite attractive. The son truly takes after the father.

But Daidai didn’t seem to spare him a second glance. Zhang Shuying held back a laugh and hugged their little mutt with even more enthusiasm.
Xie Yan’s dark eyes lingered on Xue Qingdai for a moment before shifting away.
“Mom, you’re overthinking. I don’t mind. If you have time, maybe knit something for Yan Yan—he gets cold.”

“You really don’t mind?” Zhang Shuying remembered how aloof her son had always been as a child. Like a little adult, with his own thoughts and ideas. Gradually, they even stopped calling him by his nickname. When she gave birth to Xie Yan, his name was something his father spent a long time thinking about. He had placed high hopes on Xie Yan, teaching him to read and write from a young age—something the eldest son never got. As a mother, she admitted to being selfish; she wanted to give Xie Yan the best of everything.

She had married a man much older than her and had endured endless snide remarks. But their life together had been the best. That was enough.

Zhang Shuying’s hand was suddenly licked by the dog Yan Yan, pulling her attention back to it.

Xie Yan looked at Xue Qingdai’s pursed red lips. “Don’t mind…”
Even if he did, what use was it? It’s not like he hadn’t resisted before—but the more Daidai talked, the more animated she became.

Xue Qingdai’s crescent-moon eyes focused solely on Xie Yan, as if her whole world revolved around him. She tugged at his sleeve and happily said,
“Then let’s make a little home for Yan Yan too. We can use those old wooden planks from before.”

Xie Yan opened his mouth, trying to remember what he was going to ask, but her tender gaze washed away all thought.
“Alright!”

Done! First, build a doghouse for their furry son.

Xue Qingdai added, “Let’s make it look like a tiny house, with a triangle roof. Bigger, so Yan Yan can live in it for ten years or more.”

Xie Yan listened seriously, his eyes drifting toward the corner of the house where the planks were—mossy and likely unusable.

“Xie Yan, didn’t you just change clothes?” Zhang Shuying asked. In front of Daidai, her son’s brain always turned to mush.

“It’s fine,” he replied.

Xue Qingdai just remembered he’d showered earlier. She grabbed his slightly calloused hand—it was so warm. The man’s palm gently closed around hers.

“Xie Yan, let’s build it when we get back. I feel bad—you must be tired from moving bricks earlier.”
If the doghouse turned out ugly, she’d be annoyed just looking at it.

Xie Yan’s voice went hoarse. His phoenix eyes softened as he looked at her. His heart felt like it was floating in warm water, completely relaxed. That kind of task was nothing for him.
“Alright. I’ll listen to you.”

Zhang Shuying shook her head helplessly. Her son was hopeless. Whatever she said now didn’t matter. She teased,
“Son, your collar looks pretty good—where’d you learn that?”

Not to brag, but her son had inherited all the good looks from both her and his father. His features were sharp, with a tall nose and phoenix eyes full of expression. He looked good in anything. No one in the neighborhood was more handsome than her son.

After joining the army, his pale skin had tanned, and his personality grew more composed. His appearance had become the least impressive thing about him. Now, he was almost ready to get married. Time flew. If only she could have a grandchild—but that was impossible. Her tears had long dried up. She only wished for her son to be with someone he loved.

“Mom, I used to dress like this before too,” Xie Yan said, not wanting Xue Qingdai to realize he was trying too hard.

Zhang Shuying gave a faint smile and took the little dog to warm up by the fire. Her son’s words were better left unsaid. Back then, he just rotated through the same few clothes and never bought anything new.

Xie Yan tugged slightly at his collar, feeling a bit hot under Xue Qingdai’s curious gaze.

“Xie Yan, is your wound healed?” she asked, accidentally brushing his Adam’s apple.

His body jolted as he pulled back and said in a low voice,
“It’s healed.”

That scratch had healed in two or three days. But the bite mark on his shoulder still lingered, itchy and maddening.

Xue Qingdai didn’t press. It had been Xie Yan’s fault last time—he bit her lip a little too hard.

“The wood in the corner’s damp,” he said. “In a few days, I’ll buy some good timber and build a doghouse for our son.”

She unbuttoned his collar to check his neck—sure enough, the scratch was gone. She thoughtfully buttoned it back.
“Then let’s go together?”

She really liked shopping with Xie Yan.

He looked down at her beautiful, smiling face and replied in a deep voice,
“Mm.”
He really wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her tight.

Xie Yan clenched his fists, trying to hold back. Just wait a little longer—until she was of age and they could get married…

At Jiren Hall, more and more people came specifically to see Xue Qingdai for treatment. You couldn’t rely on “repeat patients” in medicine, so she hoped fewer people would suffer from illness. Most of her current patients were referrals from people she had cured in the past.

Although things were busy, Xue Qingdai and her senior brother and sister had a natural kind of unspoken teamwork. Perhaps their personalities aligned; they all thought and acted as one.

After today’s work, they followed through with their plan for a little private dinner.

Senior Sister Fan Hua brought her secret egg sauce, and Xue Qingdai brought potatoes and eggplants gifted by a neighbor. Senior Brother Yang Lin, skilled with his hands, wrapped large rice rolls using vegetable leaves.

Fan Hua brought out freshly fried peanuts. Everyone gathered around the table and watched Yang Lin wrap the rice rolls.
Xue Qingdai held the one he handed her and ate with great satisfaction.

“Senior brother, senior sister—you two really are a divine duo. Not only can you work at the clinic, you’re great in the kitchen too!”
“Little junior sister, don’t go pairing me and Yang Lin up—we’re way too familiar with each other. That would never happen,” Fan Hua said. She and Yang Lin were busy: one wrapping the food, the other seasoning it. They wanted to make extra to send to their master, Shen Shichun, and also bring some home.

Yang Lin’s smile faded a little.
“Senior sister just doesn’t want to cook for me—she saves all her dishes for little junior sister.”

Fan Hua lowered her head and didn’t respond. Yang Lin’s roundabout way of talking always confused her.

“Exactly! Our junior sister eats my cooking and showers it with praise. You’re the only one who always nitpicks.”

“Oh, you actually did add too little salt to the egg sauce this time,” Yang Lin muttered after finally finishing up and taking a bite.

“Yang Lin! I knew it—you’ve got a problem with me! Even your steamed white buns come out sour!”

Xue Qingdai: “…”
That familiar bickering again. It happened nearly every day, and she was more than used to it by now.

She took a few rice rolls home—she had to let Xie Yan try her senior brother and sister’s cooking.

On her way home, she ran into Zhao Meiqin hesitating by the roadside. She really wanted to pretend she didn’t see her. After all, Zhao Meiqin was bad news. Fighting in winter took effort, and Qingdai’s light build didn’t give her an advantage. As clothes got thicker, her throwing needles weren’t as accurate either.

After a quick tactical analysis of strengths and weaknesses, Xue Qingdai decided to lay low and endure.

Zhao Meiqin stepped in front of her bike.
“What do you want? Trying to stage an accident? Great timing—my Yan-ge’s brother’s on duty today. Want me to take you for a visit?”

Xue Qingdai rang her bell a couple of times—ding-ling-ling—and tilted her chin defiantly, pretending she wasn’t someone to mess with, even though her palms were sweating.

“Xie Yan, isn’t that your girl over there?” Li Xinren had invited Xie Yan out for a meal. Though Xie Yan reluctantly agreed, his mind clearly wasn’t in it.