Chapter 52

Sometimes, trying to attract someone doesn’t require whispering in a sultry voice or showing off an alluring figure. Sometimes, just sitting by the fire, calmly drying your hair and sharing your thoughts plainly, can resonate deeply with the other person. You can even speak in an even tone, as if discussing the most ordinary of topics.

When had he begun to understand so well what she wanted and didn’t want? Was it during those casual conversations on their journey? He always listened intently, so much so that she’d found herself opening up to him without realizing it, sharing more than she intended. Even when she ran away from her wedding, she’d barely talked about it with her closest friends. For the past two years, she hadn’t really unpacked that experience with anyone—except for now, in that hotel room, speaking into the darkness, where she had his quiet ears and steady gaze. She had finally spoken up, with someone there who was patient and grounded.

Ruan Qing bit her lip, suddenly at a loss for words. What he’d said felt too close to a confession, a situation that, if she directly responded, could easily put her on the back foot. In the end, she gave a knowing nod, like an experienced leader giving approval, and said, “Good attitude—very good.”

If you thought this man was just earnest and straightforward, you’d be missing something. After a few relationships, you’d learn not to listen to what a man says but rather watch what he does. Men are often quick to make impossible promises with sincerity in the early stages of courtship, even fooling themselves with their convictions. But Ruan Qing truly felt at ease with Nian Qi. There was a glimmer in his smile, an understanding that said, “I know this is what you’re after.” She appreciated his directness, how he didn’t dance around his intentions or subtly try to sway her to his way of thinking. Since he’d said it out loud, she decided to wait and see what he’d do.

Nian Qi finished drying his robe and draped it over her as a blanket. “I’ll be fine—this temperature doesn’t bother me.” They had two raincoats, using one as a mat and one as a cover. Although the material wasn’t breathable, it trapped body heat effectively. Their “pillow” was a stack of old religious texts they’d found in a chest, musty with an indescribable, stale smell. The kang bed was large, but the dry grass was sparse, so to make a thicker layer, he’d kept their sleeping area small. They lay shoulder to shoulder side by side, feeling no romantic spark given the uncomfortable conditions, simply lying quietly.

As they lay there, they mentally reviewed their cover story, making sure there were no weak spots.

“I’m guessing he passed away within the last ten years,” Ruan Qing speculated, “but it’s hard to say. Grandpa Qi only mentioned that when he was young, he remembered a young officer wanting to destroy the temple, and the master was already middle-aged then. He guessed the man might be thirty years his senior. Everyone who knew Master Zaojiao back then has passed, and the master himself stopped coming down the mountain, fully self-sufficient. Even Grandpa Qi never saw him again.”

“Not a problem,” Nian Qi replied. “I’ll play the part of an orphan raised by an old mountain hermit, never having ventured beyond. Grandpa’s old and forgetful of dates, so I’ll follow his lead. If anyone asks, I’ll just answer ‘I don’t know.’”

When did your grandfather pass? Don’t know, it’s been some years.

When was the will written? No idea, but he prepared it long ago.

And what about the smudges on the letter?

When he missed his grandfather, he would take out the letter to read it, and, sometimes, as he read, he’d start to cry, smudging the paper with tears.

A fire burned in the room, and although Ruan Qing was wrapped in a raincoat, she still felt the cold. When she turned over for the second time, Nian Qi called to her, “Ruan Qing.”

She looked back, and he raised one arm. Ah, warmth! On this chilly night, Nian Qi was radiating heat. His physical strength was truly impressive. Feeling her cold hands, he opened his robe and tucked her hands inside, then closed his eyes to sleep. After a while, he opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling beams, and finally gave a soft cough, saying, “Stop fidgeting.” Her icy fingers were anything but still.

Ruan Qing opened one eye and then closed it again, shamelessly saying, “This is my right as your girlfriend.”

“How do you say ‘dating’?” Nian Qi asked. “What are we considered?”

“What did they call it in your time?” Ruan Qing asked.

“If there was no marriage contract, and the relationship was clandestine or casual,” he explained, “we called it ‘a liaison.’”

She grimaced. “Ugh. Well, here, if a man and woman are in a romantic relationship, they’re called a couple. You’re my boyfriend, and I’m your girlfriend. If I introduce you to others, I’ll say, ‘This is my boyfriend, Nian Qi.’”

The fire cast an orange glow across the room, and in its light, his eyes sparkled with happiness.

“What is it?” Ruan Qing asked, surprised by his joy.

“I’ve never been anyone’s anything before. This is the first time,” he said with deep sentiment, smiling, “from now on, I’m yours.”

“Ugh,” she teased, “this makes for an uncomfortable pillow.”

He adjusted her head onto his arm, making sure she found a comfortable position. Lying there with the woman he adored in his arms, he couldn’t resist and gently kissed her forehead. If she had “girlfriend privileges,” then surely “boyfriend privileges” should apply too, right? He leaned in to kiss her cheek, only to have Ruan Qing press a hand to his mouth, “Too prickly!”

“No more kissing,” she scolded. “It’s scratching me to death! Shave that beard as soon as we’re back!”

“Alright,” he chuckled, “may I kiss your hair, then? Hair doesn’t scratch.”

She closed her eyes, “Fine.”

He kissed the top of her head and, feeling content, closed his eyes, ready to sleep. A moment later, Ruan Qing shifted again.

“Don’t move,” she suddenly whispered.

He stayed still, and then his lips felt a sudden warmth—a soft warmth pressed against him. Opening his eyes, he saw Ruan Qing had already turned over, her back snug against his chest, nestled in his arms.

He slipped an arm around her waist, his grip letting her know she had definitely riled him up. Stifling a laugh, she pried his hand away, pulling his arm around her, “Sleep! Stop moving around, it’s uncomfortable.”

His breathing came a bit heavier, but he stayed put, slowly calming down. With her own personal heater next to her, Ruan Qing, exhausted from the day, soon drifted off.

In the middle of the night, she felt a sudden chill and opened her eyes in a drowsy haze. It turned out the fire had died down, and Nian Qi had gotten up to add more wood. He returned quickly, wrapping his arms around her again. Warmth seeped back in, and Ruan Qing went back to sleep. The hard ground and dry grass made for a rough night’s rest, so she felt groggy when she woke the next day.

Nian Qi was already gone when Ruan Qing woke up groggily, slipped on her shoes, rubbed her eyes, and stepped outside. The sunlight was brilliant, but the air was chilly. She rubbed her face to wake herself up a bit, stretched, and took in the courtyard around her, stopping in surprise.

Last night, before bed, the yard had been overgrown with waist-high weeds that obscured everything, making it look eerie in the dark. But now, all the weeds were gone. The whole yard had been transformed into a green…lawn? Although, on closer inspection, it looked a bit rough. A cool morning breeze hit her, and she sneezed.

Just then, Nian Qi appeared as if from nowhere. “Mornings are chilly, maybe put on your raincoat.” He went to grab it for her, and it did feel much better once she put it on.

“Just wait a bit, and it’ll warm up once the sun gets higher. That’s how it is in the mountains—like several seasons in a day,” he explained.

Ruan Qing rubbed her nose, pointing at the “lawn.” “What happened here?”

“The weeds had deep roots, and pulling them out would have taken too long,” he said. “So I took a shortcut. They keep lawns in neighborhoods just like this.”

Nian Qi had seen how lawns were kept, trimmed into neat, green stretches, so he decided to abandon the hoe and cut the weeds with a sickle instead. After he fixed the axe handle yesterday, his efficiency improved significantly.

This morning, he’d replaced or repaired most of the tools and had carefully sharpened the sickle, making it sharp as a blade. He cut the weeds smoothly, inch by inch along the ground. Afterward, he piled the clippings in a corner near the chicken coop, where the chickens eagerly scratched through for food. Now, the yard looked green and orderly—like a lawn, though a bit rougher. These weeds had thick stems and weren’t as soft as city grass. He’d treated both the front and back yards this way.

“Well, it’s definitely a clever solution,” Ruan Qing said, pointing again. “And what’s that over there?”

Outside the row of cottages in the courtyard, there were clusters of flowers now, grouped together and bordered by neatly stacked blue bricks from a fallen house, creating a rustic-looking flower bed. This wasn’t there yesterday.

“Just some wildflowers from outside,” he said. “I went to fetch water by the stream and brought back a basketful to replant here. Thought it would add a little life.” He pointed to several water bottles on the windowsill. “Want some water? It’s been warming in the sun, so it shouldn’t be too cold.”

Ruan Qing looked over, noticing the sun-warmed bottles, then turned back to him. “You’ve been busy this morning, haven’t you?”

He smiled, “I also tidied the vegetable patch. It had gone to waste, with weeds everywhere, and there were just a few plants left. I picked whatever was usable yesterday. Your uncle and the others will likely ask all kinds of questions when they get here, probably wondering what I eat. I’ll just say Grandpa passed, and I’m not much of a gardener myself, so it slowly went to waste. Just enough to get by.”

“Go ahead and wash up, and then come to the back for breakfast,” he said.

After freshening up, Ruan Qing went to the back courtyard to find him. She was surprised—there was a big winter melon leaning against the kitchen wall, corn strung up with grass rope, and baskets filled with potatoes, eggplants, and cucumbers. A few eggs sat on the windowsill, though she couldn’t tell if they were raw or cooked. It all looked like a cozy little farmyard.

Nian Qi handed her a baked potato and a warm egg. “When you call your uncle later, ask him to bring a thick rope—one that can handle a good amount of weight. We’ll need at least seven or eight zhang.”

She did the math: at eight zhang, that’d be about 26 meters. “What for?” she asked.

“This morning, I scouted the area and noticed a ravine in the direction of the village. It’s not too wide, but it’s deep, and an average person wouldn’t be able to cross it. To go around it would be a detour of dozens of miles, from what I could see from up high.”

Ruan Qing was shocked. “Just how much did you do this morning? What else?”

“Nothing much,” he said casually. “The place has plenty of tools, so I fixed the doors to the main hall, repaired some windows in the front and back courtyards, and found some old clothes, which I washed with wood ash and hung on the roof to dry.”

Ruan Qing was in awe—was he some kind of all-around master? How had he done so much in one morning? Knowing she wasn’t fond of the outdoor toilet, he’d even built her a new, clean restroom!