Chapter 8  

On the third day of Xue Feifeng’s return, Shen Qingran’s vigilance waned, and he reverted to his old habits—sleeping in lazily, cocooning himself like a hibernating caterpillar until the sun was high in the sky.  

Shen Qingran had ample justification: there were no chickens, ducks, cows, or sheep to tend to at home, nor any fields to cultivate. Waking early would leave him with nothing to do.  

Winter was gradually setting in. The rice paddies had been harvested, and the loosened soil was now planted with rows of vegetables, set to ripen just in time for the New Year. Across the fields, the crops stood low, except for the tall, dense sugarcane fields still stretching skyward.  

Sugarcane, cool and sweet with abundant juice, could be eaten as fruit or pressed for sugar.  

The family that grew the sugarcane bore the surname Sun. They were outsiders who had settled here. Recently, a letter arrived from their hometown, informing them that a cousin had struck it rich in the silk trade and was inviting them to join the business. Sticking to these few acres of land, the letter argued, would never lead to a better life.  

Sun Lao Er found the reasoning sound. Back when famine had struck their hometown, his siblings had scattered to find new homes. In a moment of folly, he had chosen this impoverished backwater. While it offered stability, life was hard, and even well-grown sugarcane struggled to sell. He decided to return to his roots and reunite with his family. As one grew older, the yearning to return home intensified—Sun Lao Er couldn’t bear the thought of dying far from home in his twilight years.  

But the few acres of sugarcane in Li Family Village posed a dilemma.  

Sugarcane feared frost the most. A single cold snap would turn the leaves yellow and sap the sweetness from the stalks. This year’s early chill hinted at severe frosts ahead. The risks of cultivation deterred anyone from taking over.  

Sun Lao Er frowned in distress. Waiting for the sugarcane harvest would delay their departure until after the New Year. Yet, with the ongoing chaos of war—especially after the death of General Dingyuan, which had weakened the imperial army—the situation would only worsen. Traveling long distances demanded an early start.  

With Shen Qingran sleeping in, the task of cooking fell to Xue Feifeng, and buying groceries became his first priority. Leaning on his cane, he set out, intending to purchase vegetables directly from whoever was working in their fields.  

Passing by the sugarcane field, Xue Feifeng happened to overhear Sun Lao Er sighing as he patted his grandson’s head.  

The little boy gnawed eagerly at a strip of purple sugarcane, his teeth crunching through the tough fibers, juice dripping onto his clothes and leaving sticky trails. Sun Lao Er wiped the boy’s chubby chin. “You little rascal, enjoying yourself, huh? What if Grandpa sold these to buy you roast chicken instead?”  

Xue Feifeng paused, intrigued. Their home was destitute, and this couldn’t continue. They needed to stock up—not just for necessities, but also for the little luxuries Li Family Village could offer. If others here had it, why shouldn’t Shen Qingran?  

Buying from Aunt Zhang or Aunt Li every day wasn’t sustainable. If they were going to buy, they might as well do it in bulk—enough to last without running out.  

“How much for the sugarcane?” Xue Feifeng asked.  

Sun Lao Er’s eyes lit up, but upon noticing Xue Feifeng’s limp and worn clothes, his enthusiasm dimmed. “It’s not fully grown yet. Not for sale.”  

Xue Feifeng pulled a hefty silver ingot from his sleeve, its weight instantly capturing Sun Lao Er’s attention.  

“Sold! Sold!” Sun Lao Er’s attitude flipped instantly, his head bobbing eagerly. “However much you want, it’s yours!”  

Xue Feifeng’s lips parted, uttering the two words that would keep Sun Lao Er grinning all night:  

“All of it.”  

“Aiya!” Sun Lao Er beamed, his smile stretching ear to ear. He snatched the half-eaten sugarcane from his grandson’s hand and offered it to Xue Feifeng with reverence. “This one’s yours too.”

Xue Feifeng frowned at the sugarcane with several bite marks on it, his disdain evident.

Sun Lao Er, thinking Xue Feifeng was still hesitating, quickly covered his grandson’s cries and urged, “The price is absolutely fair—just twenty taels, and I’ll even leave you the stone mill in my backyard for pressing sugar… What do you think?”

A stone mill? Shen Qingran probably wouldn’t have the strength for that. Xue Feifeng shook his head inwardly. He just wanted to buy Shen Qingran some snacks to cheer him up. In Xue Feifeng’s mind, the more land one owned, the more secure one felt. Li Feng’s family only had a few barren plots. If he bought Shen Qingran several acres of sugarcane, wouldn’t he be happy?

He couldn’t let Shen Qingran suffer. This thought made Xue Feifeng forget all about keeping a low profile, and he spent dozens of taels without hesitation.

Sun Lao Er, keen on reading his expression, feared the deal might fall through and sweetened the offer: “Oh, and there are two fish ponds at the foot of the mountain. Though they haven’t been tended to in years, the water quality is excellent. Any fish raised there would be plump and fresh… I heard you just got married, Fengzi. If your wife gets pregnant someday, these ponds would be perfect for nourishing her and aiding lactation…”

Sun Lao Er was getting ahead of himself. Xue Feifeng cut him off: “Enough, let’s do it.”

The two went to the village chief to draft the deed and stamp their fingerprints. In the time it took Shen Qingran to sleep in, Xue Feifeng had bought him several acres of land.

“Fengzi, are you really sure about this?” the village chief advised. “Everyone knows your family’s situation. These sugarcane fields will need a lot of manpower in a month or two, whether for pressing sugar or transporting them to sell. It won’t be easy for your household.”

“I’m not selling,” Xue Feifeng said firmly. “We’re keeping them to eat.”

The village chief was baffled. Were they raising pigs or something?

“Fengzi, be honest—did your wife make you buy this? If you’re afraid of her…” The village chief spoke from experience. “Just buy a couple of bundles to placate her. Tell her you’ll buy more when these run out. Once she gets tired of them, she won’t bring it up again.”

Seeing Xue Feifeng remain unmoved, the chief wondered aloud, “Do soldiers really earn that much?”

Xue Feifeng casually made up an excuse: “Last year, I took an arrow for our general. Out of gratitude, he rewarded me with twenty taels.”

The villagers naturally glanced at Xue Feifeng’s disability and nodded—that seemed fair.

But that didn’t mean he should spend all his money just to please his wife!

The village chief grew increasingly worried. Soon enough, the village might have a pair of beggar spouses.

…

When Shen Qingran saw the deed Xue Feifeng brought back, he rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

Did the world change while I was napping?

Are we farming now?

Shen Qingran screamed internally, What are you doing?! I don’t want to farm!

Who dares to sleep in now?!

His face flushed with emotion, tears welling in his eyes. A profound sense of destiny washed over him—no one could slack off in a farming novel. No one.

This was the first time Xue Feifeng had given a “big gift” to someone, especially his nominal wife, and he felt inexplicably nervous.

Studying Shen Qingran’s expression, he asked, “You don’t like it?”

Shen Qingran saw something akin to hurt in Xue Feifeng’s eyes. Taking a deep breath, he wrote, “It’s not that I don’t like it.”

His younger brother went out of his way to buy land for his elder brother—shouldn’t he be moved? Shen Qingran was moved to tears.

“Good,” Xue Feifeng relaxed. “Sun Lao Er was in a hurry to leave, so he threw in two fish ponds. You can see them from the doorstep.”

Five acres of sugarcane and two fish ponds—Shen Qingran nearly fainted.

Shen Qingran didn’t realize that what Xue Feifeng had bought wasn’t land, but simply sugarcane. In his mind, owning land meant farming it—there was no way Xue Feifeng would let it lie fallow.  

But Xue Feifeng was a cripple!  

Could Shen Qingran, a perfectly healthy man, stand by and watch Xue Feifeng toil in the fields?  

No.  

So, in the end, he would be the one doing the planting.  

When was the female lead going to show up?  

At this rate, he might soon be divorced for refusing to farm.  

Xue Feifeng peeled two sugarcane stalks with a knife, stripping them clean until they gleamed like jade pillars carved from crystallized honey syrup—just looking at them made one’s mouth water.  

He chopped them into several sections, handing half to Shen Qingran and keeping the rest aside. “They’ll be sweeter in a few days. Sun Lao Er said steaming them with rice makes for a good texture. We can try it at noon.”  

Sun Lao Er had also mentioned that the fish pond could be stocked with fish, and fish soup could… Xue Feifeng cut off that train of thought. He and Shen Qingran wouldn’t need any of that.  

Shen Qingran was too dejected to cook for now. He took the sugarcane and crunched down on a few bites.  

Sweet juice instantly flooded his mouth, like snowmelt from an ice-capped peak drizzled with honey—perfect for a sunny winter noon.  

Shen Qingran sniffled, suddenly feeling a little less gloomy.  

This was the third food, aside from rice and boiled eggs, that he was actually willing to eat. It brought him a small measure of mental satisfaction.  

But he still didn’t want to see Xue Feifeng for the next two hours. The sight of him reminded Shen Qingran of those five acres of land, and the thought of farming exhausted him.  

After finishing the sugarcane, Shen Qingran picked up a basin of laundry and headed to the river.  

Xue Feifeng washed his own clothes after bathing, while Shen Qingran, like a true shut-in, only did laundry when the pile became unbearable.  

The basin held a colorful mix of men’s and women’s clothing. On the way, he ran into Aunt Zhang, whose eyes lit up with approval—at least Fengzi had someone to wash his clothes for him now.  

Little did she know, both the men’s and women’s clothes belonged to Shen Qingran. He occasionally borrowed Xue Feifeng’s outfits—the original owner’s fashion sense was simply not on the same wavelength as his.  

The weather was nice today, and the riverbank was crowded with women doing laundry.  

From afar, Shen Qingran could hear their chatter and laughter, but as he approached, they all fell silent. He lifted an eyelid—no doubt they’d been gossiping about him.  

Ignoring them, he found an isolated flat rock and clumsily spread out the clothes. The hems were so long they nearly knocked the wooden basin into the water.  

Soft giggles rippled around him.  

Unfazed, Shen Qingran mimicked the others’ washing techniques.  

Laundry was prime gossip time, and after a brief silence, the women couldn’t resist starting up again. After all, Shen Qingran was mute—they could say whatever they wanted without consequence.  

“I heard Fengzi spent twenty taels on five acres of sugarcane for her.”  

“Exactly! Sun Lao Er lost so much on sugarcane his face turned green. Who’d have thought he’d find a sucker right before leaving?”  

“Is Fengzi out of his mind? The village chief said those twenty taels were earned by taking a blade for the general, and he just threw them away without blinking.”  

“Was his leg crippled for nothing? If my son ever marries such a wasteful wife, I’ll break his legs myself!” This self-appointed mother-in-law grew so agitated that she slammed her washing stick into the water, sending up a splash that drew a chorus of complaints.

Taking advantage of their numbers, their voices grew louder, as if deliberately speaking for Shen Qingran to hear—either seeking confirmation or simply to mock him.

When Shen Qingran heard about the source of Xue Feifeng’s money, his breath hitched.

What difference was there between that and blood money? Was Xue Feifeng out of his mind, buying land when he knew there was no labor at home? Had the war addled his brain? Did he think crops would grow on their own if left alone?

He recalled how Xue Feifeng had to lean on a crutch every time he moved, the muscles in his arms taut with strain—just watching made Shen Qingran ache. At first, Xue Feifeng had resisted letting him write on his hand, but with nowhere to hide, he had no choice but to let him do as he pleased.

He also remembered yesterday’s heart-stopping moment with the sword scabbard. If Xue Feifeng’s legs hadn’t been injured, what kind of dazzling figure would he have been? Galloping across battlefields, pacifying the realm, earning titles and honors.

In both lifetimes, Shen Qingran had coincidentally been a proud military dependent. Now, his heart ached, and he couldn’t help but curse that general.

Xue Feifeng had paid such a steep price, and all he got was twenty taels?

Pah! What a stingy general.

Xue Feifeng sneezed at home.

Shen Qingran stared blankly, lost in thought. The land Xue Feifeng had bought with his blood money—if he didn’t farm it, his conscience would trouble him.

But farming it went against his life’s principles.

The gossiping women, seeing the person in question show no reaction at all—just silently scrubbing clothes—found it all rather dull. But someone as malicious as Cai Shi escalated the gossip with a single remark.

“Fengzi’s doomed to die because of women, isn’t he? Even his ancestors would rise from their graves in fury. His wife cheats on him, and he does nothing. She’s carrying a bastard, and he still does nothing. Don’t you think he’s just into that sort of thing?”

The others around her tittered awkwardly, not daring to respond, especially since the person involved was right there.

Shen Qingran kept an extra eye on Cai Shi. He didn’t want to engage with her—first, because the original owner of this body had indeed done wrong, and now that he was here, he had to bear the blame. A few harmless words wouldn’t kill him. Second, as a man, it wasn’t proper for him to physically confront an older woman, and he wasn’t any good at verbal sparring either.

Cai Shi picked up her laundry and deliberately walked behind Shen Qingran, bumping into him. “I say Fengzi’s just a coward, a spineless wretch!”

She could insult him all she wanted, but badmouthing Xue Feifeng was unacceptable. The man was just kind-hearted and even-tempered—why did he have to endure this? Fuming, Shen Qingran ignored the part about Cai Shi’s repeated mentions of a “bastard.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. As Cai Shi deliberately brushed against him, he suddenly crouched low, bracing his hands on the laundry basin, nearly flat against the ground.

Cai Shi had intended to shove Shen Qingran from behind, tipping his basin into the river so he’d have to scramble to retrieve his clothes, making a fool of himself. But suddenly, her bulky frame met empty air. Standing twenty centimeters taller than Shen Qingran, she lost her balance. Clutching her laundry basin, she let out a couple of startled cries before toppling right over Shen Qingran’s back and plunging into the river with a huge splash.

She hadn’t even touched him.

Shen Qingran cooperatively joined the others in feigning shock.

Cai Shi flailed like a drowning dog. Someone on the bank extended a bamboo pole under her armpits to help her climb out.

Shen Qingran watched coldly. The force that had sent her tumbling—if she’d used it to push him… Hah.

Amid the chaos, he calmly gathered his laundry and headed home.

He set the wooden basin down in front of Xue Feifeng, clasped his hands together, and gave him an imploring look.

Resigned, Xue Feifeng picked up the sopping clothes one by one, wrung them out, and handed them back to Shen Qingran.

Finally, only one item remained—a Dudou embroidered with a festive Mandarin ducks playing in water pattern.

Shen Qingran reached out absentmindedly—why wasn’t he wringing it?

Xue Feifeng coughed, turned his head, and picked up the thin dudou. He wrung it dry with his eyes closed, veins bulging on the back of his hand, clearly unfamiliar with such a task.

Shen Qingran: “…” How could he have forgotten about this one!

He usually didn’t wear it—after all, the clothes were thick this season, and the difference between men and women wasn’t noticeable. To keep up appearances, he would symbolically include a dudou whenever he washed his clothes. The same one, in fact, nearly worn out from all the scrubbing.

Careless.

Would Xue Feifeng think he did it on purpose? That he couldn’t even wring out two pieces of fabric?

Shen Qingran feigned composure as he unfolded the crumpled dudou. As he hung it up, something felt off. Upon closer inspection, he realized Xue Feifeng had wrung it to shreds.

Xue Feifeng saw it too.

A long, suffocating silence filled the air.

Xue Feifeng broke the silence. “My apologies.”

Shen Qingran’s face flushed red. They were both men—better to forget this quickly!